“You did it, because your words have become a balm to my soul and soothing me better than the ones spoken to me by my mother just before I boarded. Don’t tell her, though.” Her laugh causes my chest to expand as I watch her face brighten while giving me a drunk feeling from watching her so closely.

  “No worries. It’ll be our secret.”

  If I ever get the fortune of meeting your mother, the last thing I will discuss with her is the difference in our prayer mechanics or effectiveness.

  “I really appreciate you. I’m unsure what it is about you, but I feel calmer in your presence. Where were you when I took the flight to get out here?”

  “Waiting for you to let God know that you needed me.”

  Smooth, real smooth, with your corny ass. I bet she thinks you’re lame.

  Her face turns a reddish hue as a smile spreads across her lips before she opens her mouth and begins speaking.

  “Dang, my bad. Next time, I’ll make sure I send an earlier signal.”

  Oh shit! Maybe your corny statement doesn’t turn her off, but don’t move too fast with this one. Something about her seems like she needs a gentler touch than the women you usually engage with.

  Dominique

  Lord, you did your good creating when you made the likes of this handsome stranger. Lance is fine as aged liquor. If Lance’s sexy brown eyes didn’t captivate and regulate my erratic heartbeat alone, this nigga has been blessed with the ability to pray. Whew.

  Lance is sporting a full beard that looks like it’s been moisturized with pussy and beard oil. His bushy brows have the ability to make my ninth-grade teacher, Ms. Sparks, envious because she let her black magic marker create the illusion of fullness on her face. The masculine contour of his facial structure is magnificent, as I try hard not to stare at him too long. I’m also trying not to acknowledge the python lying dormant on his thigh in his joggers. For a minute, I forget that he’s still holding my hand or that I’m on a plane. However, I should have known not to get too comfortable when the plane dips twice.

  “Oh shit!” I shout.

  “Yeah, that definitely didn’t feel good, and I don’t have a fear of flying,” Lance says.

  The plane begins swaying like there’s some kind of musical note; it’s trying to get in sync with that, and my pulse is increasing. The comfortable feeling I had minutes ago begins receding as another dip has me squeezing Lance’s hand again. My breathing becomes deeper as I close my eyes and struggle to keep from having a meltdown. My mind instantly flashes to the billows of smoke filling the field after my father’s plane fell from the sky. That image causes my heartrate to begin a rapid rhythm in my chest as tears slip from the corners of my eyes just as the pilot’s voice sounds over the speaker.

  “I’m sorry about the heavy turbulence we’re experiencing. The winds have picked up and are causing us to make an emergency landing at Peters County Regional Airport in Lima, Ohio, because we won’t be able to make it to Ribax,” the pilot says as my heart skips a beat.

  “Oh my God,” I cry.

  My free hand cups my mouth as I struggle to contain the sob bubbling on the surface at the announcement. My trembling lips and chin give an impression of a winter night where temperatures have dipped to the low twenties. The muscles in my legs tighten, and I feel like running, despite my sitting posture.

  “I-I-mm…” My words jumble together as I try to string a sentence together in my foggy mind.

  “Come on, Dominique. Breathe for me. You’re fine. We’re fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Releasing Lance’s hand, I lift slightly to take in the faces of the other passengers, but another dip and sway of the plane forces me to drop back into my seat.

  “We-we-we’re gonna die on this plane, just like my daddy died on his when I was a kid. I haven’t lived long enough to die,” I say as tremors fill my voice seconds before an uncontrollable sob shoots from my esophagus.

  A sharp pain begins radiating in my chest as chills flow throughout my extremities, and my pulse magnifies within my ears. Fanning my face with my hand, I desperately attempt to quell the feelings of helplessness.

  “Nah, come on, little mama. Stay here with me. Don’t give in to this shit.” Lance’s voice sounds far away despite his close proximity.

  The rapid falling of my tears makes his face blurry as I squeeze my eyes shut while cramps cause my stomach muscles to tighten and release. All the while, the winds seem to be leading the plane toward our destination as it begins its descent from the sky.

  “Hang on, folks. We’re doing our best to lighten the intensity, but these winds are—” the pilot begins before his words sound like a radio going off air as static fills the air, increasing the torment I’m experiencing.

  “Look at me, Dominique. I’m right here. You’re not alone in this.”

  Lance’s voice causes me to open my eyes to see the concern stretching across his face as the guy beside him sleeps like he’s in a five-star hotel bed. Looking across the aisle, I see a mother comforting her minor child whose discomfort matches mine. Although we’re experiencing bad winds, the sound around the aircraft isn’t as bad as it could be. It seems like between me and the upset child across the row, everyone else is handling this incident without falling apart.

  It doesn’t matter, because I’m sure if they saw their parent die the way I did, they would understand my torment.

  Twenty minutes later…

  The way I want to kiss the ground in this rinky dink airport right now would be just as shameful as my nearly knocking over an older lady trying to run off the plane. I damn near broke the strap of my backpack after unceremoniously snatching it from the seat in front of me. Poor Lance had been standing behind me instead of exiting the plane before me based on how we were sitting. He only caught my backpack in his abdomen as I put it on my back and ran like a track star off the aircraft. The only sound in my ears had been the ringing from my level of torment coinciding with my need to vacate quickly. Now that I’m off the plane and able to breathe slightly better, I will take in the surroundings of this airport.

  “I know you’re fucking lying,” I say.

  The inside of the airport looks like a lounge at a business office, and I use the term extremely loosely. The quaint and intimate atmosphere causes my heart to sputter instead of providing the relaxing vibe I’m sure they’re going for. My eyes dart around, connecting with the homely feel that puts me in the mind of a covert government office. Looking outside the endless glass windows, I notice the small runway where our massive plane sits idle.

  “Are you good? Your ass was gone in sixty seconds of our landing,” Lance asks, popping up seemingly out of nowhere as my eyes dance around the small area.

  “Where the hell did they drop us? This doesn’t seem big enough to fly a toy plane, let alone one as large as what we were just on.”

  “We’re in Lima. It’s only about an hour or so away from Ribax.”

  “Welcome to Lima, passengers of Flight 3494. Sorry for the delay in your destination. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to serve you. Provided the weather conditions improve, you should be back on board your plane and headed to Ribax in no time.” A cheery male voice begins speaking before I have a chance to reply to the information Lance has just given me.

  “That’s good news. Let’s grab something to help calm you down while we wait this out.” Taking me at my elbow, Lance and I begin walking to a destination not yet made clear to me at the moment.

  During our journey, I take note of the various terminal numbers, which are simply different rooms for multiple purposes. For instance, terminal eight houses a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall with a table with puzzle pieces scattered about as if someone had been working on it. There is also a cart under the TV that holds books on the bottom shelf and paper cups in a rack with what I’m assuming are tea or coffee bags. A couch is against the windows, with decorative pillows resting against each end. As we continue walking, I can see that Lance is guiding me to terminal three, otherwise known as a kitchenette. This particular space has a refrigerator, dishwasher, toaster, and hot plate with a microwave above it.

  “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto,” Lance says, causing a slight upturn in my lips as we enter the room completely.

  “Hell, the way those winds raged in the sky, I’m unsure if we’re in Lima or some foreign destination. I have never been to a place like this before, and I think they need to get it rezoned, because it’s far from any airport I know.”

  “Nah, this is specific to private jets and people who want to come under the radar and drive to one of the neighboring cities.”

  “Hm. Maybe. But why would you go to all that trouble? This little shoebox can’t possibly offer anything spectacular for landing here.”

  “Sure, it can. I’m sure most celebrities seek exclusivity when they visit various destinations.”

  “Interesting viewpoint. You’re talking like you know from experience. What do you do for a living? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

  “I make things more beautiful than they already are.”

  My brows wrinkle as I blink continuously while waiting to see if he’s going to elaborate on his very vague and mysterious response.

  “I’m a freelance photographer,” he says, smirking.

  Leaning against the dishwasher, I cross my arms over my chest and begin digging a little further as his conversation is helping to settle my frantic nerves.

  “Mm. That’s interesting.”

  Giving him a once-over, I take in his black T-shirt, joggers, socks, and black slides, wondering how someone like him could have chosen this particular field.

  “Don’t overthink it.”

  “What made you choose photography?”

  “Let’s find somewhere else to discuss this so we can at least be comfortable while you probe into my career choice.” His irresistibly devastating grin incites the beginning of a smile to tip the corners of my mouth as I follow him out of the kitchen.

  I don’t know what it is about Lance, but his energy allows me to ease into a comfortable disposition I haven’t felt since his prayer before takeoff. As we walk in search of somewhere to sit and talk, I see a small food court area, which seems out of place given the size of this airport.

  “Hm. That seems like it was an afterthought for the designer who built this place,” I say.

  “Or something that came about later because they saw a need for it. I mean, who wants to cook during their travel? The kitchenette is nice but completely a waste of space that could have been utilized for something else,” Lance adds.

  “That’s true. I wonder how they came up with the establishments to put in here. Granted, pizza, wings, and coffee will never be worth the investment regardless of where its available,” I say, taking note of the three separate options amongst several others in the food court that’s only big enough to house six places.

  Four places are busy with passengers from our flight, and various conversations sound around the area as Lance and I continue walking.

  “Oh, my bad. Do you want to grab something to eat before we keep going?”

  “Maybe later,” I say.

  Although I have been allowing Lance to keep my mind off our reason for being here, my stomach is still in knots, preventing me from thinking of nourishment. Just below the surface of my calm is a thin layer of unease and my need to get home to what I know. No matter how I’m making small talk with Lance, something sitting idle in my stomach won’t allow me to stop remembering what happened with my father all those years ago.

  “Hello, folks. According to weather reports we’ve just received, a massive storm system is heading our way, so you won’t be able to reboard the plane. A decision has been made to ground all planes until further notice. We’re sorry for this inconvenience. Please let us know if there’s something we can do to make your stay more bearable.” A voice comes over the surround sound seconds before thunder damn near rocks the building we’re in.

  “Oh my God! We’re stuck here. Nooo!” I shout as my stomach drops to my feet, instantly halting my steps. Static vibrates in my ears seconds before everything goes black.

  Lance

  “Shit!” I shout before diving like a baseball player to catch Dominique before her head hits the ground.

  The muscles in my side pinch as my knees protest from the quickness I didn’t know I would be making at this moment. Kneeling, I cradle Dominique’s head in my hands as my heart beats wildly in my chest. My body is awkward, yet I don’t move to straighten myself because my eyes are on the woman who dropped like a sack of potatoes. I can only thank God for my ability to think quickly because her head is in my hands as the rest of her sprawls out on the floor.

  “Oh my God! Is she okay?” someone asks, yet I’m unable to answer as my eyes focus on the beauty in my grasp.

  The rise and fall of her chest lets me know that she’s still breathing and only dealing with information overload.

  “Young man, let me help you so you can get her somewhere comfortable. I saw the whole thing unfold, and it seems she only passed out. Is she sick? Diabetic?” Someone else walks up, talking a mile a minute, instantly irritating me from the rapid-fire questions I don’t have the answer to.

  “If you can come to grab her head for a second, I’ll lift her up and take her somewhere quiet before I attempt to wake her,” I say with my eyes on Dominique, who has yet to stir or move, causing me to begin praying.

  God, you know all things, can do all things, and are able… Please stop by here and bring this beauty back. Right now, I ask that you would be her comforter. I also ask that when she wakes, there will be no backlash from her fall.

  Feeling hands slip under mine at Dominique’s head, I look to see a middle-aged man with kind eyes nodding for me to shift positions to get Dominique off the floor. A small crowd of onlookers are standing around with varying expressions as I sigh before moving to pick her up.

  “Umph.” Her body, while slim-thick, feels much heavier with her dead weight as I position her comfortably before carrying her bridal style away from where we are.

  The vein in my neck is pulsing out of control with every step I take in search of a quiet place for me to sit with Dominique to stir back into consciousness. This morning, I had no idea that my day would be going this way, or I might have taken a minute to have a cup of coffee or an energy drink. My self-employment allows me the flexibility of being able to roll with the punches, which is why today’s flight disaster didn’t cause me any stress or duress. I’m also pretty laid-back, so most things don’t rattle my cage or cause me to fall apart. Despite my desire to be in the comforts of my home, working on developing the images I’ve taken on this trip, the detour is fine with me. I understand that weather is fickle and can sometimes cause a bump in the road or turbulence in the sky from an impending storm.

  Loud and earth-shaking thunder sounds around the building as a heavy pelting of rain hits, alerting me and everyone here that grounding the plane had been the right decision. Seeing a room with lounge on the door, I move toward that direction, hoping it’ll give me the quiet atmosphere I’m seeking. A sigh of relief escapes my lips when the middle-aged man from a little bit ago steps in front of me and turns the knob for the lounge. Giving him a nod of appreciation, I enter the room and see that it's empty, allowing me to exhale as I step further in and move to the couch sitting against the wall. This room has no windows and looks like an employee lounge where people come to unwind, sleep, or sit with their thoughts. It’s perfect for what Dominique needs to regroup once she wakes up.

  “All right, take care of your wife, young man. I’m praying for you both,” the man says seconds before closing the door, instantly ushering in silence.

  Sitting on the couch, I shift Dominique so her head rests on my chest as I push the loose braids out of her face. Staring at her, I can see the worry lines on her forehead, making me think of ways to ease her mind. Pangs in my chest spread at the distress I’m witnessing, which is weird because I have no connection to this woman to be feeling anything. My mind also chooses this moment to recall the man’s single word of title assignment, causing my breath to quicken.

  Wife.

  The crazy thing about him calling her that name didn’t cause me to react or move to correct him on the inaccuracy of his word association. Maybe Dominique isn’t the only one with an out-of-body experience, because I have never found a woman worthy of that title in all my years of dating.

  Okay, what’s going on here, God?

  An undetermined time later…

  “Mm,” Dominique moans while stirring in my arms as I look to see her coming out of the deep sleep she’s been in since the announcement of our inability to leave this location. “Wh-Lance? What’s going on?” Dominique asks, her eyebrows squishing together as she looks around the room.

  “You fainted and have been out of it since I brought you in here, so you can rest until you wake up.”

  “W-Wow,” she says, slowly climbing out of my lap, making me feel the void of her body as I fight the frown wanting to escape from her separation.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired in a way I have never been before. Where are we?”

  “Inside one of the lounges at the airport.”

  At hearing the location of where we are, Dominique immediately frowns, standing from the couch and heading toward the door.

  “Where are you going? I think you need to take it easy.”

  “I gotta get out of here. I need to rent a car so I can drive home. I can’t stay here.” Pulling the door open, I quickly stand and follow behind her as she moves faster than I expect after her previous state.

  Seeing the crowd forming around a customer service desk causes me to bite my bottom lip because I can imagine that Dominique isn’t the only one with thoughts of renting a car.

 

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