Historical May 1991 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her long brown hair.
The last breaths of sunlight came through the airline window in a way which caused it to shine and ripple.
He had boarded the flight to New York on a stopover in St. Louis, an hour or so ago, and found her asleep in the seat next to his, 3A.
Her hands were in her lap, covering a book that he was unable to make out, and her head was tilted against the side of the plane. Because she was asleep he could look directly at her and absorb the details of her face and clothing.
It had been a long day, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull the spreadsheet out of his briefcase and begin to pour over the quarter’s figures.
She was striking looking, no doubt about that, but not beautiful or even pretty.
There was something about her dress that made him question her origins. Was she a U.S. citizen? he wondered.
She wore three rings on one hand and two on the other; all were gold with stones of various sizes and colors.
Her necklace was a pocket watch on a gold chain with a red stone in the middle of the case.
Her skin, moving ever so slightly with the pendulum breathing of sleep, was a somewhat darkened olive color.
He guessed her age at 25 or 30, considerably less than his. Suddenly there was a jarring movement and the FASTEN SEATBELTS signs began to flash along with the small insistent dinging sound that accompanies such messages.
After he had found and closed his seatbelt. he turned to his left and saw her doing the same.
She took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes and turned towards him. “Where are we?” she asked in some kind of Middle East accent. “Probably about half-way to New York,” he replied, trying to determine where the accent was from. “Is that your final destination?” “No,” she replied and turned to look out the window.
He decided to pursue her. “Where are you going?” “Zagreb,” she said and after a pause, “in Yugoslavia.” “Oh yes, Zagreb,” he responded, although he didn’t think he had ever heard of it. “And what do you do there?” She took a deep breath and looked out the window.
After what seemed like a very long time she turned to him and fixed her eyes on his. “I see the future,” she said. “I’m sorry, you what?” he replied. “I see the future.” Then she looked out the window at the rapidly greying sky and began to talk as if from memory, telling a story that sounded like she had told it hundreds, maybe thousands, of times before. “I can see tomorrow and next week and next year,” she continued. “Some times I can see everything and sometimes I can see only through a window or door, but I can see the laughter and aging and death that will come.
I didn’t ask for this gift or for the curse that goes with it. but I have it. Hundreds of years ago many of my people could see like I can, but now there are only a few of us. Mostly we stay home, together, because what we say does not always bring happiness, but sometimes we go to visit others and…” She stopped suddenly and gave her head a slight shake and hesitated. “Sorry,” she said to him, “I speak too much.” He was stunned and didn’t quite know what to say or do. Part of him was captivated and enthralled with this, this person, sitting next to him, and part of him wanted to see if there was an empty seat somewhere else. Was she putting him on, he wondered? Was she some waitressactress from Hollywood playing a joke on a middle-age business man? What the heck, the flight’s almost over, what have I got to lose by playing along with her, he thought.
This is far better than looking at the spreadsheet. “Ok,” he said, “What can you tell me about my future?” he asked.
The plane shook slightly as the landing gear locked into place.
She didn’t say anything, but closed her eyes and faced straight ahead.
He repeated his question, thinking she had not heard him.
She took a deep breath and, still looking forward, said, almost in a whisper, “no.” “No what?” he asked with exasperation on his tongue.
He had decided to play and now she wasn’t going to? “C’mon, tell me,” he said.
She didn’t move or act as if she had even heard him.
With a feeling of frustration welling up from his stomach he put his hand on her shoulder and shook her. gently at first but then harder when she did not answer. “No.
I told you,” she snapped, turning her head to glare into his eyes.
Her stare stopped him and he sat back in his seat, feeling very foolish.
He quietly looked around to see if any of the other passengers had heard him, but everyone seemed preoccupied with preparing for the landing.
The FASTEN SEATBELTS sign had never gone off, and people were now beginning to put books into briefcases and ready themselves for the next step in their journeys.
His feelings of foolishness gave way to a sense of outrage. Who was this girl to tease him and then pull back?
He hadn’t pried the information out of her, and if it was a game, that was her fault.
He wasn’t used to being refused or losing, and he didn’t plan for that to happen now. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he said in a steadied voice that hid his aggravation.
She still didn’t respond or move and he raised the ante a bit, “You didn’t really think I’d believe that crap, did you?” Still no reaction, so he reached a little deeper, “Are you really a waitress or do you make your living in,” and he paused for effect and lowered his voice as he leaned towards her, “entertainment?” Her cheeks flushed as she smarted from his insinuation.
She took a deep breath, and without moving her eyes from the back of the seat ahead of her said, “Soon, soon,” but he interrupted. “Soon?” he asked, feeling a victory coming his way, “soon what? Soon we will land? Soon we will get our luggage? Soon we will leave the airport? Well thanks for that!” and he sat back in his seat with a smile.
The plane jolted as its wheels touched the runway.
She took a deep breath and the words came out like snakes spilling on to the sand from a bag in the desert, “Soon you will die.” He shuddered a bit and then caught himself and laughed. “Right! And soon the Cubs will win the pennant. Nice try, sweetie,” he said as he picked up his briefcase and pushed his way out of his seat.
The passengers were slowly moving down the choked aisle.
She still hadn’t moved and he turned towards her to make a final comment as he left the cabin, “And I predict that you’ll stay a waitress or an entertainer or whatever!” He could feel his anger rising.
His face was flushed, he knew, and he couldn’t wait to leave. What would his friends think if they had seen him being lured and tricked like this, he wondered. “Thank you for flying with us,” said the stewardess to him as he started to walk out of the plane.
He turned to her and nodded, still preoccupied with the charlatan he had sat next to.
He didn’t notice the high winds or hear the moveable staircase uncoupling from the door to the plane. Still enraged, he stepped forward into air as the wind caught the steps and they rolled away from the plane, out of his reach. Without a sound he fell fifteen feet to the concrete below, landing on his head and breaking his neck.
The stewardess screamed.
The lady in 3A stood, put on her coat, and whispered to herself, “now.”
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, May 1991.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times1991_05.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
