Calming Faith
Two sisters, Precious and Faith, were
traveling home from California where their parents had immigrated to twenty
years ago.
They were on the final lap of their flight which would take them
from Miami International Airport to their destination, St. Thomas, US Virgin
Islands.
Finally on board, after the one-hour layover, they pulled their
carry-ons in a slowly moving line down the narrow aisle.
Upon reaching their
designated seats, they settled in and soon began to browse through magazines as
they waited for the plane to take off.
Soon the captain’s voice
interrupted the quiet rustle of passengers flipping through newspapers and novels
and put an abrupt stop to those conducting get-acquainted conversations.
“Howdy, ladies and
gentlemen, this is Captain Jeb O’Mally speaking. My crew, from the American
Airlines’ Texas International Hub, will be at your service during this flight.
Looks like I’m gonna be flying some mighty nice folks down to St. Thomas. I tried on the wedding dress in that box near
my cabin. But it was a teensy bit small. So whoever it belongs to, I’m givin’
it back to ya. Looks like we’re gonna have smooth sailing. The forecast is sunny
and it’s 84° Fahrenheit. Now, we’re just waiting for the OK and we’ll scoot on
outta here.”
Faith patted the bottle
of prescribed Prosac in the side-pocket of her handbag before she replaced it
under her seat. Two tablets had gotten her across the continent so far. She squeezed
her eyes shut, braced herself for take-off.
Going up in a metal hulk again. Wish my parents hadn’t convinced me to visit
great-grandma. But it’s her eighty-fifth birthday. Said she” wan’ see us before she go join Jesus.”
Her
older sister’s voice was an annoying bee buzzing in her head.“ Do you know
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are separating?”
“Rumor,” Faith answered.
“Well, that’s what it
says here,” Precious replied. “And it says he’s going back to what’s-her-face.”
“Jennifer Aniston?”
“Yea!”
“Don’t believe that
crap.”
“What magazine are you
reading, Precious?”
“The National Enquirer.”
“Now, you know you don’t
believe anything they print.”
“They’ve written some
stuff that turned out to be on the nose.
“Like?”
“Britney Spears’ divorce. Maybe,
they’re on to something.”
“Everyone saw that coming, duh!!”
“Whatever!”
Faith opened her eyes
and turned her head to the window. Men were still busy outside the plane. Thought this damn plane would be off the
ground by now. I want it to be over with. The sound of the captain’s voice, preceded
by static, burst in on the passengers’ private worlds again.
“Sorry for the delay folks. I know you’re eager to get on down to St.
Thomas, put on your bikinis and slather sun-tan lotion all over your bodies,
but we have a little problem. There’s a teeny-weeny little old hole that they
just found in the luggage compartment. It will take about ten minutes to fix
up. We’ll be high-tailing outta here in no time.”
Faith could feel a blotch
spreading on her face. She decided not to scratch it and breathed deeply
instead. “I don’t like the sound of this,” she whispered, turning to Precious.
Precious saw blotch on Faith’s face and held her hand. Faith closed her eyes again and tried to
remember the chants Buddhists sang to relax themselves. Was it ram, ram, ram or mmmmmmmmm?
“Let’s change seats,” Precious said.
Faith got up and switched places with her sister and closed her eyes again.
“Do you know what the
new must-have-accessory is in Hollywood? Precious quizzed.
“A tattoo?”
“No!”
“Somebody’s husband or
wife?”
Precious laughed out loud. “That’s
always in.”
“Well, what?”
“A baby.”
“A baby? Really?”
“Yep.”
“Where did you read
that? The National Enquirer?”
“I heard that on CNN.”
“Oh my God. They are so
right. Well that Angelina Jolie’s got
six of them. She started the new trend.”
“You’re right about
that. They made millions when the first baby photos were taken.”
Faith opened her eyes and stared at Precious. Her long, brown face, and neck
always reminded her of a Somalian princess. “Have I ever told you that you look
like Iman, the former Somalian model?” Faith asked.
“No.”
“Well, you look like
her. Have you ever thought about modeling?”
“No. I’m 25. In the
modeling business that’s old. But I wouldn’t mind finding a David Bowie like
Iman did to look after me for the rest of my life.”
“You know Precious,
when I was younger, I used to be jealous of you being tall, light-skinned and
all.”
“And I used to be
jealous of you, Faith. You were the brown-skinned one, but you had the long,
curly hair, the good hair, I always wanted.”
They laughed.
“We’re never satisfied
with who we are, aren’t we?” Faith said. Static filled the air again. “Oh God! What
now?” she groaned.
“Here’s captain O’Mally
again, folks. Sorry to disappoint ya’ ll.
Looks like that little old hole’s gonna take longer than expected. It’s
ten minutes of repair but a lot of paperwork. So we’re gonna be here another
forty minutes. We’re gonna put on some info on the screen. Please listen to the
instructions. If you have any questions, the flight attendants will hurry on
down and answer them for ya. I wanna take you safely down to St. Thomas so you
can enjoy your rum punch, dance the limbo and go snorkeling. The sooner
everything’s done, the sooner we scoot on outta here.”
Groaning filled the air.
Instructions on what to
do in case of an emergency rolled across the TV screen. Precious barely looked
at the video. “I don’t pay attention to that stuff anymore. I’ve made up my
mind long ago that in case of such an event, I’d make the sign of the cross and
prepare to meet my maker.”
“I’ve seen the instructions and still follow them,” Faith said. “But I
know I’d panic when the time came and I’d have to depend on the selflessness of
another passenger to save me.”
And why are we still talking
about this?” Precious asked.
Faith shrugged and stared at Precious. “Thinking out loud?”
“Well, stop thinking. You know what happens when you do that.”
Some passengers began
to walk around, inquire about each other’s destinations and plans while others
pulled out reading materials bought to stave off boredom during the flight.
Precious reached up
into her carry-on and extracted copies of People, Us Weekly and In
Touch, light reading she usually
engrossed herself in at airport lounges, or while waiting for the plane to take
off and settle into a steady cruise. After that, she and Faith would pull out
the serious stuff. Faith had bought
Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth and Precious, Alexander
McCall Smith’s, The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency.
Faith looked around. Some passengers were already indulging in books
three times as voluminous as theirs. She came to the conclusion that they were
seasoned fliers and had already flown across several continents. Her face was
red with prickly heat and itching but, still, she resisted scratching and setting
herself off in panic. She tried to fight off the vision of men mending holes in
the plane. Reaching into her bag, she extracted her bottle of Prosac and
swallowed a pill.
The flight attendant
passed by handing out white plastic cups of water. Faith took one and sipped
slowly. She couldn’t concentrate, didn’t care that Sarah Palin’s daughter’s
“baby-daddy” was on TV talking about how her mother knew that he frequently
slept over. Faith stuffed the magazines in the pocket in the seat in front of
her. She closed them and soon succumbed
to sleep.
But the dream filled her head
frightened her. She turned to Precious. “I
just had the weirdest dream. I dreamt I had booked a flight, a cheap one. At the airport, when boarding was announced, a
passenger and I hurried to the gate. Outside on the tarmac, we were searching
for the plane when the pilot showed up and pointed at what looked like a moped
with two seats.
“This is the latest in technology,” the pilot said. “Sit in the back and
buckle up.”
“But it’s open” I protested. “We’re going to be frozen ducks up there.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get to the island safely in no time,” the pilot
answered.
The other passenger, a man, had already got in and buckled himself.
“Come on,” the pilot said, hooking my arm.
I wrestled away, punched him in the face and fled. He began to chase me, his eyes red and intense.
A few passengers looked
their way when Precious burst into laughter. Faith was about to cover her
sister’s mouth when an announcement hurled them all back to the problem at hand.
Groans grew into a
question and answer session with the pilot who stood in the aisle and still seemed unfazed
despite the grilling.
Faith looked at her
watch. “We’re going to be two hours late.”
“Yea,” said Precious.
“I’ll phone Uncle Joseph and let him know.”
“Let’s go out to the
lounge,” Faith said.
“You want to do
that?” Precious didn’t look up until she
finished her phone call with uncle Joseph. She noticed that Faith’s round, pale
face was full of blotches. She was scratching her lanky arms. “Get your
carry-on,” Precious ordered. When Faith climbed out of her seat after her,
Precious saw that Faith’s long legs had blotches, too.
They hurried as fast as
they could up the aisle and out the plane into the passenger lounge. “That hole
they welded is going to reopen and the plane is going to crash”, said Faith,
gasping heavily. Her blue blouse was dark under the arms from perspiration.
Precious felt her own armpits. They were also damp.
“Let’s go to the restroom,”
Precious suggested.
Faith held on to Precious.
She felt light-headed and weak-kneed.
“Where’s your Prozac?”
“In my purse,” Faith said.
Precious rummaged in
and around Faith’s bag and found the bottle.
“Here, take one.”
Faith washed the pill
down with tap water.
“Now go sit down and
relax.” Precious pushed Faith gently into a toilet cubicle. Her brows had begun
to knit. “Guess who‘s leading in the presidential polls?” she said. Precious
went on with the details without giving Faith a chance to answer.
It was a while before the color came back into Faith’s face and the
blotches began to fade. Precious’s love of pop culture had kept Faith occupied.
“Feeling better?” Precious asked.
“Oh yes.”
“We’re going to the bar
now to have a stiff drink.”
“OK,” Faith said, rising
from the toilet seat.
“You’re ready?”
“Yea. Rum and coca cola,
na, na, na, na, na, na…, Faith began to sing. Remember that song?”
“Of course, I do”
At the bar-lounge, they
climbed up on the stools and looked up at the drinks.
“What’s in that Hurricane
cocktail?” Precious asked.
“White rum, brown rum, maracuja syrup, orange, pineapple juice and bits
of cherry and pineapple,” the barman explained.
“Two Hurricanes,
then. A good way to get into the island
spirit,” she said turning to Faith.
Faith smiled. She could
feel herself mellowing even before the drink arrived. In no time she was
sucking up the rum cocktail through a straw.
“Well, that hit the
spot,” Precious said, slowly slurping the cocktail. “I’m feeling relaxed
already. Let’s order another. Waiter!”
Twenty minutes later, a
distant warped voiced announced their flight’s departure.
“Boarding time, ”
Precious said, as she staggered to her feet.
Faith’s head began to
whirl. Getting back on that damn, plane?
Her knees buckled, then she stumbled forward and hit the ground. Blood began to
trickle from her forehead. Precious screamed. A woman in the restroom called the ambulance.
“Don’t move her,” she warned. “That’s what
they say on medical dramas.”
The
paramedics arrived minutes later. Precious was crying as she accompanied the
paramedics who were taking Faith away on a stretcher.
“Is she going to be alright?” Precious asked. An oxygen mask covered
Faith’s face.
“She’ll be ok.” a
paramedic said.
“I hope so,” mumbled
Precious as they rode away in the ambulance.
The driver turned the siren on and
the ambulance wailed loudly as it sped into Miami city. Through the window she
could see a plane rising.
© Althea Romeo-Mark 20.03.16
Born in Antigua, West Indies, Althea Romeo-Mark is an educator and
writer who grew up in St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. She has lived and taught
in St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, USA, Liberia, England, and in Switzerland since
1991. Her poems have been published in DoveTales: An International Journal of the Arts (USA),
WomanSpeak: A Journal of Writing and Art by Caribbean Women (Bahamas),
POUI: Cavehill Journal of
Creative Writing, University of the West Indies (Barbados), The Caribbean Writer, University of the
Virgin Islands, Revista Triplov (Portugal), Migrazine:
A Journal of Immigrants (Austria-Switzerland and in many other journals.
No comments:
Post a Comment