text: They hadn’t really spoken in years beyond the neutral, ‘Pass the butter?’ or ‘Seen the remote?’ You know, just the facts, Ma’am. Remote indeed. Imagined slights had met stern challenges and the marriage slid downhill from there. The smoldering tangle of ancient wounds and recriminations defied restoration to simple civility. An un-squelched, unashamed sharing of thoughts and opinions could not happen. A guarded truce remained. Gone were the days of affectionate banter. Oh, for a wry story or an ironic observation. Over years, unresolved anger and long term resentment had calcified into unmoving trench warfare. Who knew faces could actually freeze like that? It defied belief they’d raised two more-or-less sane kids to adulthood. At this late date, attempts to ‘have it out’ threatened to dredge up remains of battles best left submerged. Neither remembered how or why it turned sour. They’d found a balance. Maybe not a happy one, but it worked for the most part. The calendar’s pages kept turning. It hadn’t always been so. They’d had fun. They’d played. Had Bill pulled away? Had he wearied of feeling rejected? Had Angie sought other’s affections after sensing his disinterest? That no longer mattered. Thankfully, the slog from morning coffee to lights out had replaced those exhausting early struggles for ‘who’s on first.’ Each carried wounds. Each bore scarred emotional. Each elected for less drama over risking the shards of peace talks gone south. And, after all, they knew each other. Does anyone expect that the new face with better moves doesn’t also wield a mean right hook? ~ They rode to the airport in pre-dawn silence. Safety motivated the silence that ruled their lives. Why was she was going? It was expected. She hated flying. He knew that. It wouldn’t look right, her not being at his work conference. So there she would be. When he announced the trip, he said she’d have her time. He’d be busy. He wouldn’t be in her way. As if ‘her way’ was the consideration. She would show her face and withdraw, presumably to socialize with the other wives. Did the other wives live lives like hers? Surely, the husbands, like interchangeable Lego blocks, shared much in common. At the airport, Bill parked the car and pulled the carry-ons from the trunk. He preceded her through security. Angie found him reading the paper in an end seat at the terminal. She parked herself near-by. They were early. They didn’t talk. She left. He paid no mind. Shops were opening. Magazines begged for attention. Coffee beckoned. It would be a long flight strapped in a seat. She needed to walk. At the kiosk, ahead of her, a family offered a peek into another life. The youngsters made random orbits around their parents who bantered the nutritional advantages of pumpkin-spice vs. caramel flavored coffee. It felt like a bad Hallmark TV movie. Yet Angie didn’t think they were acting. Angie ordered hers black with a splash of half-n-half. Cappuccino for Bill. The line crept. What if they boarded before she returned? Would he notice? Or wait? Carrying her coffees she headed back to the terminal where Bill read his paper. Feeling overwhelmed, she sat and watched the steady stream of travelers pass. ‘ Just for a moment ,’ she thought. ‘ Where does everyone go in such a rush? ’ She realized they actually knew their destinations. She was the clueless one. She couldn’t fathom how she got there today. Not to the airport, but her whole life. Had she sleep-walked for the last twenty years? And awakened to this? She returned to the terminal. When she handed Bill his coffee, he smiled. “Thanks, Ange. I thought you’d flown the coop.” “And here I doubted you even knew I’d left.” “Oh, I know. I always know.” They got in line for boarding. Bill sipped coffee and stared in silence. Angie wondered that so many can be herded through hours of mind-numbing tedium with nary a peep of protest. “It astounds me how millions of travelers actually reach their destinations. They munch handfuls of pills to quell their anxiety, so they can spend hours in line after line. All to strap themselves into sardine cans for hours more.” Bill murmured a vague agreement. She continued, “It’s insane to worry. I’m sick of it.” Bill stowed the carry-ons overhead. They steeled themselves for the long flight. The commotion died and everyone found their seats. The plane taxied onto the tarmac. Announcements were made. Soon, they were airborne. The flight went as expected. Bill watched the clouds drift by. Passengers distracted themselves with snacks or videos. No place for the claustrophobic. Angie dozed. Turbulence jarred Angie out of her stupor. Bill noticed her stirring. “Point of no return...” “What?” “Terminology... We’re closer to our destination than to the starting point.” She tried to make sense of this. ‘ What an ominous name for such a mundane concept. ’ She looked about. A stewardess made her way down the aisle collecting trash. Another jolt sent the stewardess into passenger’s laps. Screams erupted. A sickening groan from the fuselage matched the yaw in the plane’s axis. More screams. A passenger sailed over heads, hit the bulkhead and fell. Lights flickered into darkness. More screams. Oxygen masks dangled. The Captain’s voice on the intercom broke up in static. Chaos bred chaos. The plane shook like it would come apart. Lights flickered. Now smoke. No place to hide. The plane leveled. The vibration subsided. The lights returned. The intercom crackled. Groans replaced screams. A baby squalled. Angie grabbed him. Their eyes met. She’d never seen him afraid. Shouting through the hysteria, she gestured. “You called it, Bill. No turning back. Don’t leave me alone. Cling to me. Not the past. Share the future we have... seconds? Minutes? Can we do that? This is us. Here and now. Be kind. Be kind! Our lives depend on this. Reclaim us. Each moment is lost. But we’re not lost. We’re together.” She lost her voice. Bill looked at her tenderly. “Of course.” She rasped, “Promise?” He covered her hand with his and nodded. Things were calming. The smoke began clearing. She looked about in amazement. Would they be okay? A smatter of applause passed through the cabin. She leaned in. “I swear Bill, if you go back on your word, I’ll see you in hell.” He looked her in the eye and said, “Not if I see you first.” They fell into embrace, laughing until tears flowed and kissed as if it were their first.