Dearly Departing

when you came out into the water to get me. How much more serious can a guy get?”
Dooley had forgotten about Marta and starting a new life. He was about to resume the uncomfortable talk with Ray when a female flight attendant interrupted. “Would you gentleman care for anything to drink? I have coffee, tea, apple or orange juice.”
There was a sudden jolt before either could respond. Ray felt the seatbelt grab at his waist as his stomach lurched up into his chest. The flight attendant grabbed onto the headrest ahead of Dooley with one hand and steadied the drink cart with the other. A monotone ding chimed, and the fasten seatbelt sign lit up above Ray’s head. Someone a few seats behind cried out. It was hard telling if it was a man or a woman. There was a second bump of turbulence, and the pilot’s reassuring voice sounded over the speakers for everyone to remain calm.
The flight attendant disappeared up the aisle with her cart, and drew the curtain shut behind her near the front of the cabin.
That can’t be good, Ray thought. She’s probably fastening up into that little bench by the front door with the other flight attendants. They don’t want us to see.
There was a second big lurch and a second scream. Ray heard a moan follow it and realized Charlie Fitz had been responsible for both. A third jolt—harder than the first two—had more people yelling and crying out. Dooley was tapping on Ray’s leg like a child needing to go to the washroom desperately. “To hell with starting over. To hell with the Dominican, and to hell with Marta. I just want this goddamn plane to land in one piece.”
The ride smoothed out, but the warning lights remained on. Ray took a deep breath and looked out the window. The plane was floating along above an endless bank of clouds. We’ve risen above the turbulence. Things should be okay now.
A female voice spoke next to him. “What a terrible day to fly for the first time in my life.”
Ray felt the hair on his left arm stand. A cold rush washed over that side of his face, like walking past an open door in the dead of winter. The voice spoke again, familiar and old—a chilling blast from his childhood. “In all my years, I never saw the need to travel. Where do all these people go? What are they trying to get away from?”
Ray forced his head to turn. Sitting in the seat between him and Dooley was his grandmother. She was wearing one of those dresses Ray remembered. It was black with white dots all over, the kind of dress the old woman used to wear out to social functions and church. She used to call it her out-and-about dress. Flying in a jet a few thousand miles from home was out-and-about, Ray figured. That part of it seemed believable enough.
“Gramma?”
The old woman continued to stare straight ahead, mumbling her thoughts aloud and ignoring those around her as she always did. “It’s a horrible, unnatural thing... flying. We have no right to be up here. Men and women belong on the ground. Too many people die like this... attempting the impossible. The impossible. The ridiculous.”
Ray looked at her legs. Her big knees were poking out from the hem of her dress, propped up against the seat ahead uncomfortably. She really was a tall woman, Ray thought dumbly. He leaned forward and saw her black shoes, the ones with the gold buckles that made her look like a Quaker. And those heels only make it worse. I guess I can thank Gramma’s side of the family for being so tall.
“Rude boy,” she snapped. “You shouldn’t stare.” She pinched the skin on the back of his hand. “Your mother did an awful job raising you.”
“Don’t talk bad about Mom. She’s dying.”
“We’re all dying,” the old woman hissed. Ray could smell the rot on her breath. “We’re all dying or were already dead. Most are just too stupid to realize it.”
“Go away, Gramma... Go away and leave me alone.”
“Rude little boy,” she repeated. “I’ll leave now if that’s what you want.”
Ray nodded his head and stared back out the window, trying to will the sound of her voice away. “You’re dead. You’re gone.”
“Thank heaven for that. Did I mention this was my first time flying? Horrible... a dreadful thing. Hang on to the armrests, Raymond... It’s going to be a rough ride.”
The cold dissipated. Ray looked over and saw his sweater and carry-on bag in the seat next to him. Dooley was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you alright?”
Ray didn’t get the chance to answer. It felt as if a mountain had smashed into the top of the plane. The seatbelt pulled at his waist again and dug in harder. Ray cried out with Charlie and a hundred other passengers as the tough fabric sliced into his pelvic bone. A dozen cups of coffee and tea slammed into the cabin ceiling and poured back over the heads and shoulders of passengers below.
There was an intense pain in Ray’s head, and he went momentarily deaf. A double pop blew his ears open and he could feel the blood rushing up into his brain as the massive airliner began to plunge down. Everything was screaming—passengers, engines. Ray became aware of an intense pain coming from his left hand. Dooley’s finger nails were clawing into the skin where his grandmother had pinched him.
That’ll leave a mark.
He stared at his friend’s sweaty face. Something was covering his nose and mouth. It trailed up above him, making Dooley appear like an enraged elephant blowing its snout. An oxygen mask, Ray thought dimly. He saw his lying in his lap and cuffed it away dismissively.
I don’t need that. I don’t