Free Fall

Jacqueline rifled through her closet, slapping aside silk shirts of varying colors, in search of her gray, pinstriped blazer.
“I thought you packed last night?”
Jacqueline sighed and turned to look at her husband, who wore a look of amusement.
“I did, Eric. But Mark wants to color-coordinate for the meeting with corporate. Something about how it will make us look even more organized and confident when we present our numbers.” She shrugged and returned to her search.
“And incidentally, don’t you have to work today?” she asked with her back still turned. “Unless you plan on showing up to court in boxers, which, I guess, might help swing the verdict in favor of your defendant.”
“Ha ha,” he said. “I don’t have court until 11, and I was up late last night finalizing my closing arguments.” His sentence ended with a stifled yawn.
Grabbing the grey blazer from the back of the closet, Jacqueline turned to face her husband. Though she teased him, she was glad he had finally found some time to sleep, and she would be glad when this particular case was over.
“What time is your flight?”
“Departure is at 11:42. Mark wants to meet at 8:30.”
“Well, it’s 7:15 now.”
Jacqueline heaved a deep breath and neatly placed her blazer into her suitcase, which was already bulging with business clothing, heels of varying colors, and personal items.
“I’d better get going.”
“MOM? Have you seen my knee pads?” Jacqueline heard her daughter call from down the hallway, and she recognized the tone of panic.
“They’re on the dryer, Abigail” she called back. “I thought you had everything ready last night?”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Eric muttered, and Jacqueline stifled a laugh.
“Okay, then. I’ll grab coffee on the way. I think I have everything. . .” As she stared down at the suitcase, noting that it looked like a rainbow-colored and slumbering cloth monster, she felt Eric wrap his arms around her waist.
“I miss you already.” He kissed her on the temple. “You’ll call me when your plane lands? You won’t fall in love with some Japanese big shot business man?”
“Well, I’ll call you when my plane lands, anyhow,” Jacqueline said, winking at her husband.
“And in the evening to see how Abigail’s soccer game went. And right before bed to make sure I turned the stove off. And in the middle of the night because you’ll forget the time difference. I imagine you’ll even call to remind me to eat dinner and brush my teeth.” He tightened his hold on Jacqueline’s waist.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She turned and kissed him.
“Mom? I can’t find my car keys. . . ”
Breaking the kiss, Jacqueline laughed at her daughter’s wide eyed expression and she glimpsed the shiny metal twinkling from her daughter’s clenched grip.
“They’re in your hand, sweetie. . . ”
“Oh, well, I’m already late!”
Before Abigail could sprint out the door, Jacqueline pulled her into a close hug.
“Mom! I’m going to be in trouble!”
“Good luck at regionals today. I wish I could be there to see you play. I’ll call you tonight, and you can give me a play by play.”
“I know, I know.” Abigail pulled away. “I love you too, Mom.” Jacqueline watched her daughter’s blonde braid wave goodbye as Abigail dashed out the door.
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Flight 170 to Tokyo. We’ll be taking off as soon as possible because of bad weather moving into the New York City area. We may experience some brief turbulence due to the incoming storm, so please keep your seatbelts fastened.”
Jacqueline barely listened to the pilot’s announcements. Mark sat next to her, wrestling with the seat belt, as he tried to fasten it over his bulging tummy.
“Okay, so next time, we’re getting first class seats. . .”
“Mark, just ask for an extender. We have a 14 hour flight ahead of us. . .”
Mark grumbled as the flight attendant handed him the extender with a smile.
“I told Lisa to book us first class, and she gets us in the back of the plane. . .” He stared at the young woman who sat across the aisle calming her preschooler who continuously bounced in his seat.
“Oh, that’s going to make for a nice flight. . .” Mark growled.
Jacqueline bit down on the smile that threatened to invade her features. She knew that the Type A personality he often showed was simply a byproduct of the CEO mentality. Yet, Jacqueline couldn’t think of another CEO who she would want to work for.
“You remembered to bring the graphs showing our second quarter figures?”
“Yes, Mark. They’re in my briefcase. . .” She indicated the bag located in the overhead compartment.
“Good.”
The plane had finished its taxi to the runway, and Jacqueline felt her heart begin to race.
“You never get used to the takeoff, do you?” Mark asked, wearing a look of sympathy.
“I’m fine. I just tell myself it’s like a hydraulic roller coaster. . .”
Mark laughed wheezily as Jacqueline clenched her eyes shut and gripped her hands into claws. She sighed in relief when she felt the plane lift from the ground.
“Another successful takeoff,” Mark muttered.
As the plane continued to climb, conversation could be heard from around the cabin.
A few minutes after takeoff, Jacqueline saw the “Fasten seatbelts” light switch off.
“Ugh, finally,” Mark said, unbuckling his seat belt. “You wouldn’t be willing to switch seats with me, would you? I’d rather not spend 14 hours climbing over you to get to the bathroom. . .”
As Jacqueline opened her mouth to answer, the plane suddenly lurched, and before she realized what had happened, she found herself pinned to the seat in front of her. She heard an “Oh shit” next to her, but the force of gravity prevented her from looking around. Earsplitting screams sounded from her left, and she heard a panicked female voice cry out “It’s okay, Joey. It’ll be okay!”
Do Abigail and Eric know my flight number? Jacqueline’s thoughts raced as she stared at the shattered eyeglasses that had fallen from Mark’s face onto the floor. Did I remember to tell them that I was on Flight 170?
Her stomach felt like it was clinging to her toes. Screams began to fill the cabin as passengers began to realize that this was really happening. The plane was in a nosedive, and no apologetic voice was going to reassure them that this was just a bit of turbulence, that they’d hit an oversized goose, that they weren’t actually all going to die, and this was just a lucid nightmare. Jacqueline felt her nails scratch the back of the seat in front of her, and suddenly, she felt her weight shift backward as the plane leveled slightly.
She barely recognized the breathy voice of her boss that sounded two octaves too high.
“Is it over? Did they sort us out? I think we’re gonna make it. . . ”
The plane bounced violently, and she felt a sharp pain on the top of her head. She heard a thud next to her, and saw Mark sprawl onto the floor, his head lodged at an awkward angle against the back of the seat in front of him and his large torso twisted into his seat. Black stars crawled into her line of vision, and the screams she heard grew fainter. She fought to stay conscious and barely registered the blood that was trickling down her cheeks.
Goodbye Eric and Abigail. I love you. . . she thought hazily as she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.
* * *
Jacqueline awoke to chaos and pain. Lying face down, she heard distant screams of pain and terror. She felt a mixture of blistering heat and frigid cold wracking her frame as the October gusts fueled the fire of the wreckage. Her left arm dangled at a sickening angle, and she felt the scorch of burning fuselage make contact with her legs. Barely aware of her smoldering skin, Jacqueline climbed onto her right arm and army-crawled ahead without any awareness of where she was going. She kicked the burning sheet of metal from her calf and pressed her flaming pantleg into the grass beneath her.
Her vision was hazy, and the objects around her floated along lazily. She felt as though she were stuck in a dream, and the reality of the scene that lay before her seemed incomprehensible. She continued to crawl at a glacial pace, and she suddenly remembered Mark’s glasses.
“I have to find his glasses,” she mumbled to the hyper-charged air around her. “He needs his glasses. . . We need to get them fixed. . . Mark? I’m coming. . . ”
She stopped crawling when she came across the mangled remains of a young boy. Lying on his side, the boy’s expression was frozen in a twisted state of horror. His open mouth revealed the missing two front teeth and the jutted-out lower jaw. Congealed, blackened blood flowed freely from his shoulder where his arm had previously connected. His SpongeBob t-shirt was barely visible beneath the waterfall of blood that flowed over SpongeBob’s friendly smile.
Jacqueline felt as though her ribs splintered with each deeply inhaled breath. She felt a cold stickiness coat the right side of her face, yet it didn’t occur to her that it may be her own blood. She tore her eyes away from the young boy, and her gaze fell upon the twisted frames that belonged to her boss. Each frame had been twisted to lie perpendicular to the other, and it was only because Jacqueline knew what the glasses looked like that she recognized them. Falling onto her chest, she reached forward with her right arm and grasped the frames. Clenching them into her fist, she pulled her weight onto her right fist and attempted to straighten her body. Every move produced a new shot of pain that raced through her body. Gazing ahead, she saw the edge of a cornfield in flames, and the majority of the plane’s body, as it remained, burned in the field. The metallic stench of the wreckage mixed with the crackling of the corn husks as they charred and collapsed.
She was barely aware of the upswing in siren sounds, and she felt the warm surrender of black out spread through her core. Still grasping the frames, Jacqueline’s body slumped into the earth.
* * *
“I still can’t believe she survived this.”
“And the doctor said she’ll recover? Dad, are you sure he wasn’t lying to make us feel better?
“Nah, he wouldn’t lie. Your mother is tougher than she appears to be. The nurse told me that she must have had luck on her side, too, because there were very few survivors. . .”
Jacqueline opened her eyes and blinked at the harsh, sterile light overhead.
“Mom? Oh my God, Mom, you’re awake!”
She saw the freckled face of her 16-year-old daughter who stared down at her, blocking the hospital lights.
Jacqueline groaned slightly at the dull ache that engulfed her entire body.
“Hi, honey. How did you do at regionals?”
To Jacqueline’s horror, Abigail’s baby blue eyes spilled over with tears.
“Mom, how can you possibly think about that now?”
She heard Eric’s deep raspy voice. “Honey, she’s going to be okay. See?”
She felt Eric’s large hand rest lightly on her right shoulder. She was suddenly aware that her left arm was trapped by a fiberglass cast.
“How long have you guys been here?” Jacqueline asked as she tried to reclaim her awareness of time.
“I got the call at about 2:30 during the break in proceedings,” Eric answered. “They wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone, just that there had been a crash and you were alive.” Jacqueline attempted to turn her head to look at him.
“No, don’t move, sweetie.” She heard the rustle of his jacket and saw his face overhead. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen. “It’s morning now. I drove to the high school to catch Abigail before she got on the bus, and then we came right over.”
“She didn’t play?”
“Of course she didn’t play.”
“And your case?”
“My team will work it out.”
Jacqueline felt tears burn into her eyes. Eric’s eyes narrowed in concern.
“Is it pain? Do you need more medicine?”
“Where are Mark’s glasses? I need to give him the frames so he can get them replaced.”
“Oh my God, she’s brain damaged!” Abigail brought her hands to her mouth and began to shake with sobs. Eric reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a 20.
“Abigail, go get some coffee from the cafeteria. Mom’s going to be okay.”
After she left the room, Eric settled himself on the edge of the hospital bed with care.
“Honey, Mark didn’t make it. He was breathing when they brought him in, but he died in the ER. They asked me if I knew of any family they could call, but since he was divorced six years ago and had no children. . .”
“I tried to find him. I knew we were both going to die. . . ”
“And. . . “ Eric began, his voice sounding strained, “You’ve got quite enough to deal with. You have 57 stitches, most of them on your head. You have a concussion, but luckily, no skull fracture. You’ve got a couple cracked ribs, a broken humerus, and a large second degree burn on your leg. The doctor said you’re going to have a long recovery, but you’re not going to die, and that’s the important thing. . .”
“Will you hold me?” Jacqueline felt childish and ashamed of her fear and guilt, but she wanted more than anything to be held.
Eric positioned himself gingerly next to Jacqueline and lightly placed his arms across her torso.
“We’ll get through this. Don’t worry.”
* * *
It had been eight months since the plane crash, and Jacqueline was enjoying the night air as she sat in the passenger seat next to her husband. They were returning from a celebration dinner in honor of Jacqueline’s release from her physical therapist.
“That was a good dinner, wasn’t it?” Eric said, as he downshifted to accelerate down the highway. “Good service. I’ll have to remember that place in the future.”
Jacqueline gave a noncommittal murmur of assent as she lowered the roof visor to look in the mirror. She watched Abigail bop her head and bounce her shoulders slightly to the music from her earphones. Her gaze traveled to the winding scar that started from the center of her forehead and traveled down her cheek. She brushed the scar lightly with her fingertips.
“You know, next time I think I’ll try the risotto. Maybe we’ll even go there for Abigail’s graduation. Would you like that, honey?” Eric looked in the rearview mirror, raising his voice slightly.
Jacqueline saw Abigail nod vaguely as she continued to enjoy her music.
“Eric, honey, please slow down. . . “
“I’m going the speed limit” he muttered, yet she felt the car decelerate.
Jacqueline felt her stomach drop as Eric took a hill too fast.
Jacqueline shuddered. She heard the screams of a young child.
It’s okay, Joey. . . It’ll be okay. . .
“I can’t believe Wendy has to take maternity leave again” Eric was saying. “I mean, I understand the importance of family, but it seems like she just had a baby a few months ago. . .”
The shards of glass glistened, surrounding the twisted frames. . .
“Hey, Dad? Can you turn that up? I like this song. . .”
“I thought you were listening to your iPod?”
“I was. I got bored.”
The “Fasten Seatbelts” light switched on. The oxygen masks dangled violently from the ceiling. . .
“What’s that, Jacqueline? What did you say?”
The lifeless eyes of the young boy gaped at her. The gurgling blood congealed with the friendly yellow image of the children’s cartoon character. . .
Jacqueline wrenched her mind to the present. She was overly aware of the console that lay between her and Eric as she dug her fingernails into the cold plastic.
“I asked about the case you’re working on,” she said, willing her voice to remain steady. “Who will they get to replace Wendy?”
“Oh, well, several people want that spot. . .”
Her fingernails scratched the back of the seat in front of her. Will they know my flight number?
“David would take it, but he’s got that nasty murder trial on top of everything else. . .”
Did they sort us out? She heard Mark’s voice. I think we’re gonna make it. . .
“. . . Jacqueline?”
The child bounced up and down in his seat.
“Jacqueline, are you all right?” Eric had grabbed her arm. She felt cold sweat flow coat her face. Her breath came in gasps.
“You were hyperventilating. . . What’s. . . what’s wrong?”
Jacqueline swallowed hard. “Let’s just go home, Eric.”
* * *
Later that night, Jacqueline awoke with a start as she felt her husband shake her.
“It’s all right. You’re awake now. It was just another nightmare. . .”
He handed her a glass of water and turned on the lamp on the bedside table.
Jacqueline’s heart pounded in her chest.
“You can’t keep re-living this, honey.” “You’re barely sleeping anymore, and when you do. . .”
“Oh, please, continue with your pearls of wisdom, Eric,” Jacqueline snapped, wiping the tears from her eyes. Immediately, she felt guilty when she saw the look of hurt on her husband’s face.
“I’m only saying that maybe you should consider talking to someone. . .”
“I did. Remember? I went to therapy and talked about my feelings for four months. I got nothing from it.”
“I think you should go back.”
“I think you should go back to sleep.” She turned onto her side away from her husband.
She felt his hand rest on her side. “I love you, Jacqueline. I just want you to be okay.”
She didn’t answer.
* * *
“Okay, so we’ve reviewed the procedures. I’ve checked your safety harness. The shock cord is fastened tightly. Now, when you reach the bottom, you’re going to bounce a few times. That tends to shock some of the first-timers, but it’s perfectly normal. Once your jump is completed, we’ll pull you back up. Any questions? You’ve signed the waiver, right?”
Jacqueline peered over the edge of the bridge at the gentle gray current of the river.
“Not a question, but a comment:” The sarcastic tone of Abigail came from behind her. Jacqueline turned to face her daughter. “You are absolutely crazy if you go through with this, Mom. . .”
“That’s enough, Abigail,” Eric said, glaring at his daughter. “We are here to support your mother. We may not understand it, but we support her nevertheless. Got it?” Abigail folded her arms and rolled her eyes in response.
Jacqueline turned back to face the rail of the bridge. She swallowed and addressed the guide. “No, I think I’ve got it. . .”
“Okay, then. If you’re sure you want to do this, all you have to do is climb onto the rail and let yourself fall. Easy, right?”
Jacqueline felt a sudden urge to bolt. She was having trouble remembering what led her to decide to do this.
“If you want to back out, you won’t be the first one to do so. . .” the guide said in a voice that suggested he was reciting a script.
“No,” Jacqueline said firmly, gathering the shreds of courage she still had left. “I want to do this.”
She had to recreate the feeling of free-fall. Perhaps it was an unconventional way to attempt to move on from the plane crash, but her therapist had explained that her nightmares and flashbacks came from her mind’s inability to remember all of the details and specifics of the event. She kept re-living the experience as her mind attempted to grasp the magnitude of what had occurred. However, it had been Jacqueline’s idea, (and Jacqueline’s idea only), to bungee jump. She had to stop the image of the dead child’s mangled remains and the squeak of Mark’s panicked voice from visiting her at the most inopportune times.
She took a deep breath.
“I’m ready.”
The guide helped her to climb over the rail to stand on the edge of the bridge. She clenched the rail behind her and leaned forward, gazing again at the river beneath her. The guide checked her harness and cord once more.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready. . .”
Clenching her eyes shut, Jacqueline let go of the railing and allowed her body to fall forward.
She felt the signature lurch of her stomach as she flipped upside down and gravity pulled at her body.
Mark’s head was twisted against the back of the seat in front of him. . . It’s okay, Joey. It’ll be okay. . . The mangled frames cut her hand anew as she grasped them. . . The frames glowed in the light of the inferno that destroyed the corn field ahead of her. . .
Jacqueline felt the cord pull her as she swung upwards. She opened her eyes and saw the river below her. Her heart drummed against her throat as she tried to catch her breath. After she finished bouncing, she felt her body being raised toward the bridge.
After the guide helped her over the edge of the rail and began to release her from the harness, Eric looked at her warily.
“So. . . how was it?”
Jacqueline looked at the guide.
“When can I schedule the next one?”
“You have GOT to be kidding me!” Abigail burst out.
“Okay, Jacqueline, you know I’ll support you in whatever you decide to do, but are you sure this is wise?”
Jacqueline glared. “I want to schedule another jump, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
Once she was free from the harness, she thanked the guide, who told her to call the company to schedule her next jump. She walked toward the car with her husband and daughter trailing behind. She heard whispers behind her.
“Dad, this will never stop, will it?”
“Honey, I keep telling you that we need to be supportive. She has to work through this on her own.”
“I don’t understand, Dad.”
“I know, honey. Neither do I.”
Jacqueline felt little guilt about her family’s reactions. She knew that she had to remember everything in order to stop the sudden flashes of memory that had taken over her life at any given moment. She had to stop the dead from visiting her every night, and perhaps, if she kept falling, they would never catch up with her and take her with them.