"Ha-ha, smart-ass. I meant, why aren't you in Woodfalls?"
"Wait, this isn't Woodfalls?" he teased.
"Hilarious. Are you ever serious?"
"Not if I can help it. I was out of town for business. Man, how crazy is it that we end up on the same flight?" he threw back at me.
"Yeah, crazy. Of all the planes in all the world," I said, tapping my foot nervously as the engines began to roar louder. The plane slowly backed away from our gate. This was by far the worst part of flying for me. Taxiing down the runway followed by the instant acceleration and the ascent into the air always makes my stomach drop to my ankles. I wanted to run down the aisle and flail at the door until they let me out, but instead I dug my nails into my thighs. Once we reached our cruising altitude, I would be fine. Continuing the death grip on my legs, I clamped my eyes closed and silently sang my favorite Mumford & Sons song in my head. It was a ritual that helped me cope with my nerves. Usually, by the time I hit the last line we were well into the sky.
"You okay, Jams?" I faintly heard Grant ask. I was too busy singing in my head to give him any real acknowledgment. I merely nodded without opening my eyes and continued with my internal concert. I could feel my body reacting to the high revving engines. The worst part was upon us. We were putting our fate in the hands of someone we had never met. The plane picked up speed, pushing me back into my seat and I felt the tires lift off the tarmac.
Grant reached for my hand, but I didn't have the willpower at the moment to jerk away. I just wanted us to get in the air. The song in my head was finishing its last chorus, and at any moment I could breathe again. Then maybe I would remove Grant's hand, which was resting on top of mine.
The thought had no sooner filtered through my head when a sudden earth-shattering bump made our plane lurch forward. The seatbelt bit into my stomach as my body was thrown forward like I was a rag doll. Some of the overhead compartments flew open, sending bags shooting out. A poor old man in the aisle seat two rows up held his nose with blood dripping from behind his fingers after a small rolling suitcase dropped from the compartment across from him. Grant's hand dug into mine as he gripped the arm of the seat. Panic-filled screams echoed through the plane as we took a sudden nosedive toward the runway we had just left. The toddler in front of me shrieked. I wanted to join him, but I couldn't muster the breath from my lungs. The nose of the plane slammed hard against the tarmac and the deafening sound of metal grinding against asphalt overtook the screaming passengers. All my senses rose to a fever pitch. We were going to die. It was my worst fear. I was stuck in this metal death trap, about to meet death and I was still single. The plane continued to race down the runway as more luggage fell from the overhead compartments. Grant twisted his body to protect me from the falling debris. Eventually, the plane's momentum stalled and we finally shuttered to a stop. Gasps of pain by those who had been hit by flying luggage could be heard throughout the aircraft, but the sighs of relief that we were not going to die was much louder.
Chapter 2
A moment of silence settled over the plane as we ground to a stop. Even the crying baby in front of me seemed to take a breath. The fleeting moment quickly erupted to mayhem as passengers began standing. One of the two flight attendants tried to calm everyone, asking if anyone was seriously hurt or in need of medical attention.
"Are you okay?" Grant asked, cupping my face in his hands so I would have to focus on his words. It was only at that moment that I realized I was shaking from head to toe. "We're okay," he said, removing an article of clothing that didn't belong to me from my lap. He tossed it in the aisle that was now slanting toward the front of the plane.
I didn't answer as I spotted the wound on his forehead. I watched with morbid fascination as the blood trickled down his face in a slow stream. It began to pool on his shoulder, changing the light blue material of his shirt to more of a plum color. The crimson stain continued to grow as more blood collected there.
"Jams, are you okay?" Grant repeated with concern clouding his voice. I finally pulled my eyes from his shoulder. I was surprised he seemed so concerned about me. He hardly looked in my direction the entire time we were in high school, and now suddenly he was looking at me like I was the most important person in the world to him.
I wanted to nod my head, but at the moment, I was anything but okay. My head refused to move. I couldn't focus and everything around me looked like a kaleidoscope. I was only seeing fragments of what was really in front of me. I knew I should move. I wanted off this death trap, but I couldn't seem to will my body to make it happen. Things became hazy after that. Grant stopped asking if I was okay, and instead took matters into his own hands. I don't remember much about getting off the plane. One minute, I was buckled in my seat, and the next I was in some holding area in the airport with all the other passengers from the flight. Medical personnel were working and taking stock of various injuries from the accident. For the most part, everyone was okay except for a flight attendant who had suffered a broken leg and a concussion from a food cart that had gotten away.
"Miss, do you need to go to the hospital?" a kind paramedic asked, breaking through the haze in my mind. He shined a light in my eyes to check my pupils. "Hey, can you hear me? Are you hurt?"
It took me a moment to find my voice. "No, I'm fine," I answered. It came out as more of a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again as he wrapped my bicep to check my blood pressure.
"Just relax while I check you over a little," he said.
"I'm okay," I repeated, looking up at Grant, who was still hovering over me. His head now sported a bandage where they had treated his wound. I was surprised they weren't taking him in for stitches. "What about you?" I asked him, looking at the stark white bandage.
"It was more superficial. No stitches necessary," he answered, looking relieved that I was no longer comatose. "Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?" he asked, looking to the paramedic for confirmation. "Do you think she's in shock?" Grant asked, like I wasn't there.
"Probably a little, but her vitals are okay. Did she pass out?"
"No, but she's been pretty foggy since the crash," Grant answered.
"Well, her skin is not clammy and her breathing seems normal, but we can bring her in if you're concerned."
"I'm fine," I answered, done with them acting like I was a child.
The paramedic looked at Grant like my opinion didn't matter. I was tempted to kick him since he was still kneeling in front of me, but I figured that wouldn't help my case. Grant nodded hesitantly, even though he had no right to be making judgment calls on anything to do with my health or my body. I refrained from pointing that out since my brain was finally beginning to sort through what had happened.
First, I thought I better call my mom to let her know. The last thing I needed was for the accident to make national news and for her to find out before I had a chance to call her. I reached for my purse to grab my phone, only to realize my purse was still stowed under the seat on the plane. "Damn," I said. Why didn't I grab it before we left the plane? My oversized purse had everything important in it—my phone, my wallet and my iPad. The thought of functioning without my stuff even for a moment filled me with a whole new sense of panic.
I rose to my feet, intending to find it. I swayed slightly from the sudden movement.
"Whoa, where you going?" Grant asked, reaching a hand out to steady me.
"My purse. I need it," I answered, not caring that I sounded like some junkie looking for her next fix. I wanted my purse, like NOW.
"You'll have to wait. They said they'll be moving all the bags and luggage into a holding area as soon as the plane is safe enough," Grant said, plopping down on the seat I had just vacated. He stretched out his legs and yawned loudly like he had nothing better to do than wait.
Now would have been a good time to have my purse since I had the urge to hit him upside the head with it. "Did they say how long it's going to be?" I asked, steadying myself with the arm of the chair.