The plane didn’t land in Verona. But it landed, and at the
moment that was all the passengers really cared about. There was a lot of
screaming and smoke and a few rescue vehicles thrown in for show. I couldn’t
believe my eyes. The experience seemed unreal to me; it was too much like
something I’d watch on a bad soap opera. The plane had been falling apart at
the seams, ready to break loose and send us all to a horrible end, when
suddenly, like a ray of light from heaven, the shores of Cádiz appeared on the horizon. We smashed down in a
cloud of smoke and steam and were henceforth transformed from being normal
travelers to heralded heroes: survivors of a near plane crash. The pilot was
cheered and toasted for weeks in every major airport across the globe. But I
wasn’t so eager to call him a hero. It was all too odd.
I found her after the Cádiz
equivalent of the ER
waved me out with nothing but mild injures: a sprained wrist and a small burn,
along with multiple bangs, cuts and bruises. My high school Spanish came back
to haunt me, but I understood that I’d likely live for a few more years. I shuffled
outside, glad to be away from the chaos. And there she was standing on the
steps, staring up at the sky with her arms wrapped childishly around her waist
and her short-cropped curls blowing teasingly in the breeze.
“Well you were right,” I remarked, startling her. “We’re alive.
I don’t know how but we are.”
She shook her head wistfully. “I’m glad everyone made it through
alright.”
Strolling forward, I stood next to her, examining my watch, only
to find its familiar face cracked. “It certainly was some luck.”
“Bad luck.” She shuddered.
“And then good luck.” I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. I was
deliriously happy to be alive in a world where a hundred and some odd human
beings could hurdle through the air in a flying machine, crash, burn, and still
somehow make it out alive. “How did you manage that?” I asked. She turned her
eyes up towards me, her brow narrowing in confusion. I noticed for the first time
how deeply black they were.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it’s a history with you isn’t it? How do you manage to
have such bad luck and such good luck all at the same time?”
She laughed, relaxing. “Oh that. Well, like I said before, it’s
a very long story.”
I remembered her words up in the air and wondered. “Is it the
same story?”
“No story is the same, stranger.” She closed her eyes, breathing
deeply.
I grinned, starting to
feel the reality of the day hit me. “Where are you going now?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll see if I can make it to Paris by
train. If not, I think I’ll find an ocean liner and head back to the states.
Where will you go?”
“Well, flying seems to have lost its appeal for me too. I think
London may have to wait a few days until I’ve recovered.”
“Well, that shouldn’t be hard here in a place like this. I think
I’d be happy to stay in Cádiz forever. Just listen to the
waves. And there. Look up there. All those stars up there in that indigo sky.”
She sighed. “It is a night designed to make one forget.”
“Forget what?” I murmured.
“I don’t know. I’ve already
forgotten it.”
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