In The Unlikely Event Part 24

A quick look in the full-length mirror proved her uniform was smooth over her posterior. You never knew when the chief stewardess might show up to run a checklist, observing the dress and work habits of the girls, an evaluation procedure most of them dreaded. Gaby could have done without the required girdle but understood it was part of the whole package, and it served her well whenever some pa.s.senger in the aisle seat, usually a smoker ordering a drink, let his hand, accidentally on purpose, run over her backside as she was serving him.

Some of the girls flirted with pa.s.sengers, hoping they'd meet a rich guy to marry, but not Gaby. True, she sometimes went to dinner in Miami with one of her regular pa.s.sengers, but she didn't call that dating. He was older, still very handsome, a real gentleman. He had a place in Miami on one of the private islands, and another in New Jersey, and was starting a business in Las Vegas. He sat in first cla.s.s, always in the bulkhead seat, where he had more room to stretch those long legs. She'd heard his companions call him "Longy." But she called him "Mr. Zwillman" and he called her "doll." Oh, sure, he was probably married, but so what? She wasn't interested in marrying him. Or being his girlfriend. But dinner at the best restaurants in Miami Beach, ringside tables at the best nightclubs-that was something else. Vic Damone had joined them one night after his show. He'd signed her menu-To Gaby. Your a nice girl. Okay, so he'd forgotten you're is a contraction. With his voice and looks, who cared about contractions?

She didn't believe the girls who'd tried to tell her Longy was a gangster, that he'd killed people. That was malicious gossip. He was a businessman, a very successful businessman. And so polite. Always asking about her family. She enjoyed riding in his baby blue Cadillac convertible, looking up at the stars over Miami Beach.

"Has he given you jewelry yet?" Cleo, another stewardess, asked.

"No, why would he give me jewelry?" Gaby said. "I'm not his girlfriend."

"Then what are you?"

Gaby wasn't sure how to respond, so she just shrugged.

"Honey, you might as well get something out of it," Cleo said. "Ask him to take you shopping."

Later, Gaby realized that Cleo thought she was sleeping with Longy. What a revolting thought! Or was it? She was no fool-she noticed the way he looked at her. And hadn't he once asked if she could find him attractive? She began to imagine a romantic weekend in Havana. He was always flying to Cuba on business. Maybe next time he was on her flight, next time she went to dinner with him in Miami.

But Mr. Zwillman wasn't on her flight list tonight.

In the departure lounge, where music was piped in, "I'll See You in My Dreams" was playing. Gaby had seen the movie twice, once in Miami, and once in New York at Radio City Music Hall. She'd written her mother about the plush red seats, the stage show, the Rockettes, to prove how glamorous her life was compared to what it would have been if she'd stayed in Dayton. Her mother wrote back, Just be careful. That was her mother's standard response to everything. Be careful of what? she wanted to ask, but she never did. She already knew the answer. Be careful of life.

Christina Christina and Jack went to the early Valentine's Day party at Twin City Roller Rink. All the girls wore something red and the boys were given red bow ties to clip onto their collars. Christina's friend Gina told her she looked s.e.xy in her clingy red jersey top when they went to the ladies' room to freshen their lipstick and comb their hair. "G.o.d, I wish I had your b.o.o.bs."

Christina blushed but she knew it was true. She felt s.e.xy tonight. She'd never worn anything red, let alone anything that clung to her body.

Later, when she and Jack were in his room, on his bed, kissing, she knew this would be the night. Not that she'd planned it. She just didn't try to stop it this time. On the bedside radio Tony Bennett was singing "Because of You." The volume was turned down so as not to disturb Mrs. O'Malley or the boarders. Between Tony Bennett's s.e.xy voice, and Jack's warm breath as he nibbled her earlobe, she was lost in another world. Somewhere a cat was purring, which struck her as odd because Jack didn't have a cat, but who cared? Who cared about anything?

He unb.u.t.toned her blouse, not for the first time, reached around and unhooked her bra, something she'd let him do before, even though she knew what that could lead to, she knew very well. He groaned when her b.r.e.a.s.t.s spilled out of her full B cups. I dreamed I was bewitching in my Maidenform bra. Moonlight streamed through the window. His hands were warm as he gently stroked her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his fingers pa.s.sing over her nipples, pausing just long enough to make them hard, then his breath was on them, as he kissed one, then the other. He pulled off his s.h.i.+rt so he could feel them against his naked chest. She closed her eyes, giving in to the rush between her legs. When he reached under her skirt, he hesitated for a second. She wasn't wearing a panty girdle tonight, just a garter belt, stockings and nylon undies. This was where she always stopped him, whispering, No Jack, we can't. But she didn't stop him tonight. If he was surprised she couldn't tell. Her undies slipped off, then he was getting out of his trousers.

She kept her eyes closed. He was naked next to her and she was naked, though she didn't remember stepping out of her skirt or pulling down her half-slip-what did it matter...sweet Jesus, n.o.body told her it would feel this good to have his hands stroking her there. Someone else was singing now and the cat was purring louder, the cat was moaning, or wait-was it her? Yes, those sounds were coming from her. She felt something pus.h.i.+ng against her, then slipping inside her. And she wanted it, she wanted it. Then a short, quick pain-did she cry out? Maybe, but she didn't say stop. She didn't say no. Her body tensed...what if, what if...But soon he stopped moving and let out one deep groan, and something warm was on her belly. Warm, like a dollop of thick sauce. He wiped it up with his underwear then kissed the spot where it landed as if it were sacred ground.

Natalie Natalie lay against the pillows in her bed at Elizabeth General Hospital. Nurse Kirkegaard, who her parents had hired as her private duty night nurse, watched over her. Natalie was supposed to be sleeping but she never slept, not if she could help it. She was weak and tired but sleep was out of the question. She had a needle in her arm attached to a tube. "Just fluids to keep you hydrated," Nurse Kirkegaard explained.

"I want to go home," Natalie said.

"I know," Nurse K said, "and you will, as soon as you're able to eat, as soon as you're strong enough."

"I'm very strong," Natalie told her. "I can dance for hours without getting tired."

"Oh, you're a dancer?"

"Yes."

"My daughter is an actress. Maybe you've heard of her? Phyllis Kirk."

"Your daughter is Phyllis Kirk?" Now the nurse had Natalie's full attention. Phyllis Kirk was famous. The magazines were always running stories about her. Everyone knew she was from Elizabeth, had gone to Battin High. Everyone knew her mother was a nurse at Elizabeth General but Natalie never dreamed this nurse, who was middle-aged and stout and not beautiful, could possibly be her mother.

"She changed her name from Kirkegaard to Kirk," the nurse explained. "It's a stage name."

"I'm going to have a stage name, too."

"Natalie is a lovely name," Nurse K said. "Look at Natalie Wood."

"Yes, but I don't want people to confuse me with her. I was thinking of Ruby."

"Like Ruby Keeler, the tap dancer?"

"No, like Ruby Granik."

"The girl who was killed in the plane crash?"

"You know about her?" Natalie was surprised. She would never have expected Nurse Kirkegaard to know anything about Ruby.

"My daughter met her a few times."

"Really? Ruby knew Phyllis Kirk? She never mentioned that."

"You knew Ruby?" Nurse K asked.

"Yes."

"A tragedy."

"Yes." Natalie looked out the window at the night sky and thought about changing her name to Ruby Night. Ruby Skye. Ruby Starr. But she wasn't sure Ruby would want her to use her name. She yawned.

"How about a bedtime snack?" Nurse K asked. "I could make you a strawberry milk shake."

"I'd just throw it up," Natalie said. "It's better when I don't eat because I really don't like throwing up. I wish they'd figure out what's wrong with me so I can go home."

"Tomorrow you'll have some tests."

"I'm so cold," Natalie said. "I'm cold all the time."

Nurse K pulled another blanket over her, to stop her s.h.i.+vering. "Am I going to die?"

"You're going to get well." Nurse K smoothed Natalie's hair, which had been falling out. Natalie had collected it and stuffed it into an envelope. You could see patches of her pink scalp.

"Did you know Phyllis had polio when she was a girl?" Nurse K asked.

"What? No."

"But she overcame it and so will you."

"You think I have polio?"

"No," Nurse K said. "I'm just saying that if Phyllis could get better, you can, too. And I'll let you in on a secret. Phyllis is up for a leading role in a very big picture opposite Vincent Price. It's going to be the first 3-D movie."

"What's 3-D?" It sounded like a bra size.

"I'm not sure myself but it's a very big deal. You have to promise to keep this to yourself."

"I promise," Natalie said. "I have a secret, too, but I can't tell you."

"You might feel better if you did."

"No." Natalie looked out the window again. "I tried telling my best friend but she didn't believe me. Either that or she thought I was crazy."

"Well, I'd believe you. Keeping secrets locked up inside isn't healthy. It can make you sick."

"You think that's why I'm sick?"

Nurse K took her hand. "Close your eyes and I'll sing you the same lullaby I used to sing to Phyllis when she was scared and couldn't sleep."

"But I don't want to sleep. If I do I might never wake up."

Gaby Gaby welcomed her pa.s.sengers aboard the first of two sections of the flight to Miami, due to leave at midnight. The second was scheduled for departure forty-three minutes later.

The pa.s.sengers' names were on a seating chart, making it easy for Gaby to greet each one by name once they were seated. Mr. Venturini and Mr. Griffiths, friends headed to Fort Lauderdale for a week of fis.h.i.+ng, asked if they could change seats. They wanted to sit together up front but had to settle for two in the same row at the rear of the plane. At least they didn't make a fuss about it. A priest, Father Good, sat at the emergency exit. He looked young and strong. He could handle it if he had to. Gaby wondered if he'd become a priest because of his name.

She had seen a married couple kissing goodbye at the gate. "See you in Miami, darling," the husband had said. Now the wife, sitting in the second row, explained to Gaby that she and her husband were celebrating their tenth anniversary but they never traveled on the same plane. This was nothing new to Gaby. Many couples flew separately. That way, if something bad happened, the children would be left with at least one parent. Some of them even divided the children, the wife flying with one, the husband with the other. Gaby wondered if she'd do the same. She didn't think so. She was no Nervous Nellie. She was a professional. Besides, flying was safer than driving.

She hung up the pa.s.sengers' coats and handed out magazines. Neither of the two honeymoon couples wanted anything to read. They'd probably smooch all the way to Miami or else fall asleep from the stress of the wedding and arrive too tired to fully enjoy their wedding night. Not that Gaby was anyone to comment on that.

It was too late for a dinner flight. She'd be serving just a midnight snack and a beverage. Many of her pa.s.sengers would sleep all the way to Miami. She'd probably have to tap their shoulders to wake them, saying, We've arrived, sir.

She delivered the paperwork to the c.o.c.kpit. The captain was in the left seat, copilot in the right, flight engineer in the jump seat. He was engaged to one of the stewardesses from Gaby's cla.s.s. All three were gentlemen. She'd flown with them many times. They kept their hands to themselves, which was more than she could say about some crews. She had to laugh when she thought about her fantasy pilot, Scotty Champion-if he existed she hadn't met him yet. And now that she knew something about a pilot's life she wasn't interested in marrying one-someday, when she was ready to get married, that is.

"Miss," one of her pa.s.sengers, an anxious older woman in an aisle seat, called, "when can I use the restroom?"

"Do you need to use it?" Gaby asked.

"No. I'm just thinking ahead."

"After we take off and reach our cruising alt.i.tude, you'll be free to get up and use the restroom." Gaby smiled, trying to rea.s.sure her, betting this was her first flight.

"It's my first time flying," she told Gaby. "I'm visiting my son and daughter-in-law. They have a new baby."

"That's lovely, Mrs. Iverson," Gaby said. The pa.s.sengers loved it when she called them by name.

Mrs. Iverson held up a tiny sweater she was knitting. "Do you think babies need sweaters in Miami?"

"I'm sure they do. I've worn sweaters, myself, especially in the evening."

She gave Mrs. Iverson two years, max, before she, too, made Florida her home. When Mrs. Iverson reached for Gaby's hand, Gaby let her hold it. "The weather's perfect all the way down," she said in a rea.s.suring voice. "You'll get to see the moon. You just relax and breathe through your nose." Mrs. Iverson nodded. Gaby patted her hand. "It will be so smooth you'll probably fall asleep and when you wake up you'll be in Miami."

- SHE HANDED OUT silver wings to the children, always a big hit, and a deck of playing cards to anyone who wanted them. A mother and her teenage daughter took a pack. "Gin?" the mother asked her daughter, as she shuffled the cards.

"You know I always beat you," the daughter said.

"Maybe tonight's my lucky night," the mother said, laughing.

So far, no drunks. That was good news. A late-night flight meant drinking at the bar in the departure lounge before boarding, which could translate into trouble on board.

Tomorrow Gaby could lie on the beach all day, soaking up the winter sun. Never mind what her mother said about the sun ruining her skin. How would her mother know? She'd never sunbathed. She'd never been to Miami.

One more time down the aisle checking to make sure the pa.s.sengers had their seat belts fastened. She turned off the dome lights and switched on the night-lights. Most pa.s.sengers kept their reading lights on, except for the ones who were already asleep or planning to be asleep.

Gaby didn't like sitting in the rear jump seat, facing away from the pa.s.sengers. She preferred to keep an eye on them. But rules were rules, and she strapped herself in for takeoff. The wheels of the four-engine DC-6 lifted off at 12:18 a.m., carrying fifty-nine pa.s.sengers, a crew of four, and 2,953 pounds of mail, baggage and air-freight parcels.

The plane climbed to what she thought was 1,000 feet or less. One of the engines didn't sound right. Gaby had been on other flights where engines had conked out but this was different. It made a horrible sputtering sound. She couldn't be sure but it might have been two engines, because besides the sputtering noise, she heard what sounded like firecrackers. The plane dropped one hundred feet, and with it her stomach. The captain put full force on the power but the plane kept losing alt.i.tude.

Right then, she knew they would crash.

Christina Christina rested her head on Jack's shoulder as he drove her home. She was already late, half an hour past curfew. She'd better have a good story ready for Mama. She'd tell her there was an accident on the road and she and her friends were stuck in traffic, waiting for the tow truck to remove the cars. She was never late coming home without calling to explain, so she hoped Mama would give her some leeway. How could she call when she was stuck on Newark Avenue? she'd say.

She felt herself drifting off when, suddenly, a big silver s.h.i.+p sailed by so low she swore she could see inside, swore she could see the pa.s.sengers, their faces pressed against the windows. She wasn't sure at first if she was dreaming. She hoped she was dreaming. But no-she was wide-awake now, pointing to the sky as Jack swerved to the side of the road. The noise was thunderous. "What is it?" Her voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. And why was she asking, anyway? She already knew. She'd seen it before.

Jack shouted, "It's going down." He revved up the engine, and followed the plane's path, which seemed to be heading for Westminster. "Jesus!" he cried, nearing Janet Memorial, as the plane fell from the sky. "Mason!"

Natalie Nurse K had dozed off but not Natalie. She was looking out the window when something flashed in the sky. "What was that?"

"What?" Nurse K asked, awakening.

"In the sky. Didn't you see it?"

"No, dear. Now turn away from the window. Concentrate on something warm and beautiful. Do you like the beach?"

"Yes. I love going down the sh.o.r.e."

"Close your eyes and pretend that's where you are. Can you feel the warm sand under your feet?"

"Yes."

"And the sun on your back?"

"Yes."

"Dip your toes in the ocean. The water is very warm today."

"Should I swim?"

"Only if you want to. Only if the ocean is where you'd like to be."

Phil Stein Phil was walking Fred before hitting the sack. School tomorrow, then a day off for Lincoln's birthday. Usually when he kept Fred overnight Fred did his stuff, and that was it until morning. But tonight Fred broke away, dragging his leash behind him, racing in and out of hedges. Phil chased him, catching glimpses of his red and yellow doggie sweater, as Fred jumped over low shrubs, scooting in and out of yards. What was wrong with that dog? "d.a.m.n it, Fred! Come back here." Phil heard a terrible noise, so loud his hands went to his ears. He looked up and saw a plane. Not again, please, G.o.d, not again. A loud explosion. The flames shot up. What are you doing to us, G.o.d? "Fred...Fred!" Phil cried, terrified that he'd lost the dog, terrified of what was happening. All at once the neighbors were out of their houses, coats thrown over their nightgowns and pajamas. Everyone was running, running toward the burning, mangled mess. He caught a glimpse of his parents. Until then he'd never seen his mother run. Didn't know she could. He gave one more anguished cry. "Fred!"

Miri Miri awakened to the sound of thunder, but thunder in February? She ran into Rusty's room, gently shook her. "Mom...did you hear that? What was it?"

"What?" Rusty said, taking off her sleep mask, pulling out her earplugs. "Hear what?"