I OPENED MY EYES. Cornstalks surrounded me. The sky above me was a clear blue. The sun warmed my face. My head lay in Max’s lap.
“Max” I whispered. “Are we dead?”
He glanced down at me. His cheekbone had a small cut.
“We survived.” He put his warm and comforting hand onto my forehead.
“I’m alive?”
He considered me with a serious expression. “I told you we’d make it.”
I stared up into his blue eyes. I didn’t quite believe him. “I think you’re lying. This field and you, this is my version of heaven, isn’t it?”
“Your version of heaven?”
“I’m glad you made it to heaven with me.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Did we live?”
“See for yourself.”
He lifted me up. I gasped. The remnants of our plane indicated it had slid the length of the field, plowing up all the plants in its wake and now lay tilted to the side. People wandered around like zombies with ripped and torn clothing. Passengers cried or hugged.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed. “We lived.”
“We lived.”
“I don’t remember the crash.”
“You blacked out.”
I clawed at my body, making sure I was intact. My yellow life vest hung around my neck like a plastic bib. “How did I get off the plane?”
“I carried you.”
“You carried me?” I repeated, distracted by the passengers that moved in front of us. “Did anyone get hurt?”
“Someone has a broken leg. Everyone lived. Everyone got out.”
I turned and studied his face. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s only a scratch.”
Emergency vehicles approached from the distance.
Still drunk, I sat in numb shock and watched as the rescue vehicles came bumping through the field, with wailing sirens and flashing lights to announce their arrival.
Rescue workers tended to the injured while firemen sprayed the plane with foam. Max and I sat, side by side, watching the chaos unfold in front of us.
School buses arrived. Someone on a bullhorn gave us instructions. Our two choices of destination were the hospital or the hotel. Max refused medical attention, so I followed him onto the bus that would drive us to the hotel.
At the hotel, they directed us to a boardroom where a woman in a crisp navy suit handed us each hotel room keys.
“On behalf of the airline, I would like to extend a heartfelt apology. I have booked each of you into a hotel room.”
She gave us each a bag. My bag was pink and Max’s bag was blue.
“You will find in your bag toiletries and clothes. We have also provided complimentary credit cards for $500 for anything you might need to purchase in the next 24 hours. We have included brochures for phone numbers of counselors who are standing by 24/7 in case you need to talk to anyone. Tomorrow customer service representatives will help you make further travel arrangements. All complimentary of our airline. We ask that you please return to the airport by noon.”
“Okay.” I was in a dream. Or in a movie.
She flashed a strained smile at us. “I have a cellphone right here. Would you like to make a call or have me call someone?”
I nodded, and she handed me her phone. I dialed my mom’s cell number, and the call went straight to voicemail. I remember that Mom was at some gala tonight.
“Hey Mom,” I glanced at Max, who stared at the floor while he listened. “This is Rory. My flight had some… issues and…. well, now I’m in North Dakota. And the airline is being nice. They’re putting me up in a hotel. When I know what time I will arrive, I’ll text you so that you can send a car. Love you!”
She held out the phone to Max. “Would you like to call someone?”
He shook his head.
“Please understand that we will be in this boardroom all night. In case you need anything.”
Together we walked to the elevator.
“How are you doing?” Max pressed the up button.
I thought about my answer. Flying was one of my greatest fears and I had survived a plane crash. You’d think I’d be in a state of hysteria. But the fact was, I had survived. I had cheated death.
“I feel alive.”
We got to my room, and I stalled. I didn’t want to be alone. “Where is your room?”
“Right next door.”
“Okay.”
“Are you okay?”
I spoke without conviction. “Yes.”
He towered over me and for one heartfelt second, I thought he might hug me. But he didn’t. He stared down at me with that hard-to-read expression.
“Max, are you sick of me?”
“Not even close.”
“Well,” I paused, trying to find words that had meaning. “Thanks for saving my life.”
He gave me a ghost of a smile.
Don’t leave me.
I don’t know where that thought came from, but I searched his face, wondering if he could sense my anxiety.
He looked resigned again. “Come knock if you need anything.”
“Oh,” I blinked. I guess not. “Okay.”
I watched as he moved with athletic grace towards his own room. He unlocked it, gave me one last glance and disappeared into his room.
