Fear of Flying

“Are you also frightened?” she whispered in my ear.I nudged her ear with my nose and held her closer, just because I didn’t know what else I could really do. She shuddered slightly as if a nerve ran up her spine and relaxed, collapsing in my arms—her arm bent awkwardly on my lap. All I could keep thinking is hurry up. Hurry up. What was keeping Remy so long from calling us back? Here we were, scrunched in this uncomfortable car, in an unfamiliar parking lot in a shitpit of a town, where god knows what the regulars did for fun. I mean, it’s not like we were in some vampire town or we were about to get lynched, but it wasn’t a fun situation regardless to be . I think it was all of the confederate flags and empty Budweiser cans alongside the back roads that really put me at unease.

“What do you think happened to Remy? Do you think he got lost?” she asked, looking deeply into my eyes with tired uncertainty, tinged with despair.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Knowing him, he probably just stopped by a fireworks stand alongside the highway and got distracted with the abundance of cherry bombs and cheapass firecrackers,” I tried to fake a smile, but I’m pretty sure she read through my bullshit. Deep down we both knew something was wrong, we just couldn’t know anything for sure. Did he hit a deer? Did he stand us up and get caught? Fuck, who knows with that dude. I didn’t dare say anything to Jen though, she would freak out if I admitted I was just as worried as she was. We were perfect together after all, both two obsessive paranoid scaredy cats, clutching one another in the dark as if the boogeyman was about to get us.

I was starting to regret this whole thing. What were we thinking? I knew I shouldn’t have taken a whole week straight off of work, my finances were practically in ruins and running away from the situation in the office didn’t mean everything would be clean and forgotten upon my return, even if it was paid vacation time. As my mind started to dwell back on all of the things I’d been striving so hard to forget, (fuck, that was the purpose of this trip right?), my contact fell out. Just like that. I must have squinted too hard when I remembered the confrontation with Lindsey before I walked out and forced my eyes shut as if to erase the memory, or maybe not. But fuck; now here I was in the middle of bum fuck nowhere, in the dark, with a beautiful girl on the verge of tears, and no sight in my right eye. “Jen?” I gently moved her long auburn hair behind her right ear. “Babe? I need you not to move. Can you please slowly turn the overheard map light on? I don’t want you to freak out, but I just lost my contact.”

“Em you cannot be serious! Just what we need, shit!”

“Jen, come on. I can’t see, seriously, just move slow so we can find it.”
From what I could read of her facial expression on the left hand side, she was giving me one of her famous What-The-Fuck-Ever looks, but she did as I asked and turned on the light, slowly. We spent maybe five minutes, combing the lint and filth ridden interior of my 93 Camry’s floor interior and found nothing. Shit. This was fantastic, especially considering Jen didn’t have a driver’s license and her driving experience amounted to a rider lawnmower in high school and a go-kart on our last trip to Valley Fair. To top it all off, she was acting like this was my fault, that I had intentionally lost my sight just to sabotage an already miserable situation, so we could wind up two dead dykes in the middle of Texas Chainsaw Massacreville. I was getting not only her famous What-The-Fuck-Ever look, but also the silent treatment, unless of course you count her repetitive exaggerated deep sighs of contempt.

Just then, my pocket vibrated and a familiar chime jingle played. Remy, thank god.
I yanked my arm away from behind Jen’s stiff body and dug deep in my left jean pocket. She looked at me, expectantly and still leery, but I just ignored her. Losing no time, I flipped open my Nokia. “Remy, where the fuck have you been dude? We’ve been waiting here forever, man.”

“Heeeeeeey Emiliah. What’s goin’ onnnnn girlfraaand?”

Great. He was stoned. This was not going to be good.

“Remy what the hell? Are you high? Where are you???” This definitely brought another impatient demanding look from Jen, who was beyond What-the-Fuck-Ever and had now officially entered Fix-This-Now-or-You-Will-Never, and- I-mean- Never, Get-Laid-Again territory.

“Emily, chill. It’s all good. Well, I mean, not exactly. I started heading your way, I did. I even found my jumper cables! But when I started driving I decided since it was gonna be such a long drive, I may as well make it enjoyable and lit up. I fucking hit a raccoon dude! A raccoon! It freaked me out man. I swerved and shit and a cop was going the opposite way, saw me swerve to miss the other raccoon and next thing you know, I got pulled over, and well dude, ha. I got arrested for possession. Sucks, man.”

“What the fuck?? Are you in jail right now? Remy, I swear to god you better be joking to get a rise out of me. This is not funny.”

“Well, no dude. This is my one call. I figured my roommate wouldn’t be able to do shit for me and you’re the only person I know who would actually come get my ass, but it doesn’t look like they’ll be holding me much longer—they just need to give me some tickets and court date bullshit but I think I’ll be outta here by morning.”
“Remy Johnston. Words cannot describe my disappointment with you right now.”

“Sorry Emiliah, I know this blows but at least you’re not in jail dude. Why don’t you just call Triple A or start walking to the closest gas station? I’m sure you can get towed or something.”

“Dude, I can’t even talk to you right now. Call me when you get your ass out of jail.” I slammed the flip phone shut.

My girlfriend continued her ice queen glare.

“Jen, I cannot handle this right now. I have no sight in my right eye, my car is busted in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and it’s starting to get cold as shit outside right now. Remy’s in jail, apparently he got busted smoking weed and swerving alongside the highway so it’s just you and me sister. Get used to it, we’re going to have to get our asses out and walk to town.”

She just looked at me, her expression impossible to read. “Em, fuck. I told you, my
feet kill in these shoes and my leg hurts too much to walk anywhere really far. Why the fuck did we come all the way up to bumfuck Wisconsin anyway? I was completely happy just taking a week off of work and lounging around our apartment in the city. This is so typical. What the FUCK!” She started getting worked up. Great, I love it when she gets like this.

“Jen, this is no time for an argument. I do not have the energy and it’s not going to change a damn thing. I should have just called Triple A from the beginning; I don’t know what I was thinking Remy would be able to do anything for us.”

I dug out my phone again, cursing my childhood best friend for being such a typical dumbass. What did I know? I mean, he was a part-time mechanic and lived a mere hour and a half away from where we were currently stranded. I figured if he couldn’t get my Camry up and running, he could at least give us a lift to his place until we figured things out in the morning. All I wanted was a week of silence and relaxation, an escape from the busyness at work, the stress of a breaking relationship and a temptation that should have remained unacted upon. A week of gazing at the stars in the country fields, long walks in the cool autumn breeze, night picnics along the lake, reconnection and meditation. Grasping desperately to connect again with my lover of four years, hoping to forget and start anew. But nope, now we were just two dysfunctional lesbians, resenting the shit out of one another in the middle of nowhere. One impatient and more irritable than the Snake Goddess herself and the other just jaded as fuck, with no energy remaining or sight, for that matter.

Flipping open my phone again, I noticed the battery and signal was on its last bar. Great, just get me through to roadside service. That’s all I ask, please. I dialed 411 and was connected a 24-hour towing service. A gruff raspy voice answered, “Mike’s emergency roadside service, what canni doya’ fer?”

I gave the man our approximate location and explained the situation and he told us the soonest he could get a truck out was in two hours. Great, well at least we finally had some form of resolution—and it was only going to throw me back three hundred dollars. This vacation ruled, to say the least. Jen had grown tired with me and had buried herself in the backseat under our coats and was pretending to sleep. Let her pout, I figured—giving up and setting my phone alarm for an hour and a half and turned to my side on the driver’s seat of the car for a quick catnap myself. It was 2:43 am.

I dreamt of Lindsey and airplanes. Suddenly I was motion sick, struggling for my life to snap out of my trance, just to wake up. I couldn’t. I was buried deep in REM. Lindsey was here, smiling at me. Seductively staring at me from afar, but suffocating me with her presence, holding me down. Her black hair was down, covering her face, covering mine. “Emily,” she whispered, sweetly and forbidden. “Emily, come to me. Come to me,” and I was on a jet. Flying away, strapped tightly in my seat—in a sickly smelling commercial jetliner, with no other passengers present. I was flying, but no idea where. I tried to remove my safety belt, to find a stewardess, someone, anyone—who could just tell me where I was headed. But I couldn’t, it was as if the iron clasps were molded together. I couldn’t move my legs. I couldn’t move anything, really, except my head. I glanced nervously to my right, my left, out the window into the night clouds. “Emily,” she whispered. I couldn’t see Lindsey, but she was still in my head, whispering my name, bringing back memories of the one night when my better judgment went out the window and I let myself succumb. “Emily, come to me.” And the plane took a nosedive, crashing, spiraling downward at a frightening speed, myself strapped into the seat, unable to even grab at the dangling oxygen mask. It was all happening so fast, so fast. “Emily, Emily, Emily. . . .” I want to wake up, this is just a dream. I need to wake up, now. I struggled to return to reality, drugged into my coma.

Three loud knocks to my left returned me to reality. Rap, rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap. I shook awake, “shit.”

An unsmiling man in greasy overalls, industrial boots and a utility belt stood in front of a blinding pair of headlights. I squinted with my one good eye. “Miss Richard, I’m here from Mike’s Towing. Rise and shine,” he huffed.
Jen rolled in the backseat, moaning. “Finally,” she grumbled.

Two and a half hours and three hundred charged dollars on my American Express later, Jen and I finally found ourselves at a deserted looking bed and breakfast in some village called Mount Horeb, which prided itself on being Troll Town, the capital of Trolls. Great, my ideal get away. Of course all that was wrong with my car was a dead battery, but that now being resolved, Jen and I had gotten ourselves back on the road and checked into a rented room, reeking of mothballs and lined to the nines with yellow linen, yellow wallpaper and quarters who’s amenities boasted A/C and Color Television with HBO.

Unable to sleep after my crazy episode earlier, I lay in the bed beside my still upset girlfriend, staring at the water stained ceiling. Luckily for me, after rummaging through my duffle bags I did find an extra emergency contact lens in my bathroom bag, it was for my left eye versus my right, but anything would make do for the time being as long as I could make out facial features and see road signs. After tossing restlessly for a half hour, I decided to eventually take my chances and use the moldy shower, nearly slipping on the rubber grip peeling butterfly decals on the bottom of the tub, eyes stinging by the odor of the sour lemon soap bar. The sticky plastic shower curtain and mint green shower rings almost made me sick to my stomach, thinking of all the countless old people and truck drivers who had cleansed themselves in this stall before me, but trooping through the motions of a shower nonetheless.

Feeling remotely closer to a normal human being, I strolled to the lobby of the house inn and had a stale cup of lukewarm coffee, thinking. All I could think about was Lindsey, not Jen. I was kidding no one at this point, not even myself. There was no way Jen and I would make it out of this. She didn’t know about Lindsey, I didn’t even see the point in coming clean with her. This trip was my final test to see if I had enough faith in us to make it past this rut. If she knew about Lindsey she would freak out beyond repair. I wasn’t so much worried about myself, or our relationship, but for her. I knew it wasn’t fair to keep my affair from her, but Jen scared me when she got in one of her spells. She had a past of harming herself, or at least wasn’t reluctant to whip out a threat of self-destruction. “You may know where I keep my toiletries, but keep in mind Emily, that anyone can go purchase a dollar store Lady Bic. Just remember that. You can’t keep tabs on me always.”

Why I stuck around for that, I didn’t know. Sure I loved Jen, or at least I did at one point. She was my life for the past four years. We graduated college together, moved to a new city together. Started our adult lives as one. Had plans for the rest of our lives, a tiger cat named Herman and a cozy condo on the north side. She was my girl and I was her protector. We belonged together. And then her moods took over. She got restless. Tired, accusatory, angry. For no reason, some days just out of the blue, just like that—she would snap. And since she had no friends other than me, I was the target of her demise. I became more successful at work, put in longer hours in the office and made a few close acquaintances. Jen did not like this one bit, and the fewer hours we spent together became more and more involved with accusations and my tireless self defense instead of our forgotten cuddles and candle lit rendezvous’ in the bathtub.

So of course, after Lindsey and I began spending more time together on our account analysis project, I began to soften under her sexy glances and reciprocate her flirty advances. It was three weeks ago when we completed our briefing to the client, which resulted with each of our promotions into the account management department. To celebrate we had an innocent happy hour, which turned into seven cosmopolitans for her and nine too many dirty martinis for me. Jen had been in one of her spells and had left for the weekend to visit her sister and brother in law. I was on cloud nine, a $4,000 raise and finally feeling as if I had not a worry in the world. She was so beautiful that night, and her advances were impossible to deny. That night. . . one I would not be able to forget soon enough even if I wanted to.

How did I get from then to here? The feeling of cloud nine to the helpless state of brokenness. I took a final swig of the now cold Maxwell house in the Styrofoam coffee cup and felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. “Where are you?” It was Jen. I glanced at the countryesque mother goose maroon clock on the wall of the lobby and saw it was now 1:30 in the afternoon. “I’m hungry and you’re not here, why didn’t you leave me a note?”

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m in the lobby trying to stomach this shit coffee. I’ll be up in a minute.” This got me a disapproving glare from the silver wired hair grandmother owner, who sat behind a metal high school teacher’s desk which was supposedly serving as the front desk of the inn.

“You ain’t gunna find no starbucks around here, missy—so I’m sawry if my cawfee ain’t up to yer precious standards, princess.” She croaked at me, looking down her nose.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I huffed awkwardly and ran across the linty lavender carpet towards the stairwell to my room.

Jen was all showered and dressed when I got back to our room. She looked at me cautiously, but sweetly. “Em, I’m sorry. I know I haven’t been the nicest girl to be around since we left Chicago but I thought about everything and know you were just trying to make things right. I was being selfish. Can we start over?” She smiled at me sweetly, and she was wearing her green halter dress she knew was my favorite.
Feeling guilty of my thoughts towards Lindsey, I forced a smile. “Of course, Jen. I know, things weren’t smooth sailing on our way here, and I know you’ve been stressed out. Let’s just start over and try to enjoy ourselves.”

Looking relieved, she stood up from her position on the bed and walked towards me and leaned on my shoulder, wrapping her gentle arms around my waist. “I love you, thank you for taking such good care of me.”

I hugged her back. “What do you say we start our trip new by getting the hell out of here?”

“Let’s do it,” she squeezed, looking up at me with trying eyes.

After checking out of our grandma inn, we drove for hours, and days, through the fields of corn and curvy roads of Wisconsin nature. We spent the remainder of our week long trip navigating the woods hiking, exploring ancient museums of cluttered antiques, camping and tasting full samples of Wisconsin breweries. While we left the unspoken tension of our relationship aside, we even had a decent time. No more arguments, no more auto breakdowns, just silent contentment. We even made love on two separate occasions, once along the river in a tent outside of Castle Rock and another beside a fireplace in an inn in Eagle River. It was a peaceful mini-road trip and we had done our best to reconnect. The whole time, however, I knew it was over and this was the final chapter to our tumultuous relationship. Thoughts of Lindsey would not keep quiet. Threats of tomorrow forever looming.

Our final night before reality returned, we stayed at an Embassy Suites in the suburbs outside of Chicago. We might as well make it last as long as we can before inevitably we have to face the facts. That night we ordered mediocre Chinese from a joint across the highway and rented a pay-per-view soft-core film. Trying to ease me into the mood, Jen started giving me a backrub in her lacey black Victoria’s Secret nightie. My stomach and conscious were both too upset to give into her advances, however, and she picked up on my unease. “Emily, what’s going on? What happened to us?” she sighed, wiping a tear away from the corner of her left eye before it could fall.

I bit my lower lip. “It’s the general tsao’s chicken, I’m sorry I just am not feeling super hot right now. Maybe we can try watching this again later after I take a nap and I’ll feel more up to it.”

“That’s not it, Em. I know there’s something else going on. You have been distant and away this entire trip. It’s been months since we’ve been ourselves; I know it and so do you. I don’t know what to do. The more I try and reach out to you, the tighter you shut yourself away. I freak out, lash out, and I know my behavior is more destructive to us than helpful, but I just get so scared. . .” she broke off, her voice wavering and tears began to flow freely down her cheeks.

“Baby,” I reached out to her shoulder, holding her and placing my other palm on her cheek to wipe away her tears. “What can I say? I mean, I think we both know what’s happening here. I love you, you love me. What more is there to say? Some things are just too beautiful to last forever.”

She broke down, convulsing and flooding with tears and snot streaming down her porcelain face. “You had an affair, Emily. I know all about it. You think I’m an idiot? I just wanted to see how long you could hold it in, keep it to yourself before you grew a soul and told me. It’s not the fact that you cheated that hurts the most, either. It’s the lying part. I was prepared, though. Really, really, really. . . “ she sobbed. “I was, I was even willing to forgive you, but now it’s too late.”

I was speechless. “Jennifer. Seriously, what are you talking about?” I froze up; suddenly I was transported back to the airplane, strapped tightly into the passengerless plane, unable to move. Suffocated by my own situation, drowning with fear and unable to move. “Emily. . . Emily, come to me,” Lindsey’s voice whispering in my inner thoughts. I gulped unknowingly, knowing there was no saving myself. This plane was crashing and I was going down, spiraling into defeat, entirely defenseless.

“Emily, how could you? I never went to Amanda and Brian’s that night. I stayed home, waiting for you. I had a special candle lit dinner prepared to celebrate your promotion; I had it planned the entire week after your big presentation. I knew you had a happy hour planned to celebrate with your partner, but I trusted you. Around 8:30 I started to get worried, but when midnight rolled around and you still hadn’t come home I knew something was up. I stayed up all night waiting for you, wearing my silly apron, waiting at the table with this fantastic feast—and I finally gave up at 6:00 and drove to my sister’s after all. I had suspicions you had feelings for this other woman, but this was my proof.”

Darkness was clouding in on me. The pain and hurt on Jen’s twisted, blotchy, wet face was more than I could stomach. I felt the sweet and hot sourness of my Chinese begin to rise in my throat.

Suddenly, Jen stood up. “It’s over Emily. We both knew this was coming, anyway.” She grabbed a handful of tissues and blew her nose long and hard, wiping her face clear with her robe she had since slipped over her nightgown. “I wish it could have ended differently, that we could have resolved and salvaged things. I didn’t tell you that I knew this because I was hoping you would have come clean on this trip. In preparation that you wouldn’t, however, I took the liberty of having Amanda come pack my things at the place and everything’s at her apartment already. The condo’s yours. You can run off to your beloved Lindsey, yes I know her name, your tendency to talk in your sleep gave you away weeks ago.” She was surprisingly composed at this point and her look of sadness had hardened into hatred.

“You really are a bitch, you know that? I loved you, I gave you my heart.”

I still said nothing, eyes closed. It all made sense now. Her irritable moods. Her sudden unspoken resentment, the distance. I returned to that moment in the car, broken down outside of the Wisconsin border in that no name town when she was in my
arms, asking me if I was also frightened. I suddenly realized she wasn’t frightened of the darkness outside, or the broken down car, but of the future—of the repercussion of my selfish actions. How I had slipped and fled from reality. I realized now, much too late of course, that yes, I was frightened. Lindsey was not the solution, Jennifer not the problem. I was strapped in this crashing airplane, heading nowhere but to my own destruction. Suffocating, trapped, heading nowhere fast.

I haven’t seen or talked to Jennifer or Lindsey since 2008. It’s been a year and a half since I’ve had any sort of resemblance to a stable sexual or emotional relationship. I’ve learned, however, that fleeting from fright, and denying yourself the harsh inevitable truths of human nature is not the solution. Closing yourself off to others and denying your true instincts is only destructive to one’s self. I have finally accepted this and am day by day getting closer to my fear of intimacy. I do, however, still have the reoccurring nightmare in the airplane. The only fear deeper than my fear of flying is of fear itself.