Landing Part Two
Shelley J Alongi

 

The experience in the helicopter had frightened Melanie Clark. Seeing him flushed and injured, his eyes hazy, his life seemingly gone, his cold, chapped skin had reminded her that she was afraid. She had been with him because he was fun and kind and treated her well. But she secretly feared for his life and it seemed that this flight after years of routine flights and some structural troubles had brought him the closest he had been to death. Perhaps modern technology would save his life. Delirious, feverish from infection, one ankle broken, one knee put back together with titanium pens, no one had spoken to him since they had come to the hospital three days ago. He had not opened his eyes. Perhaps the quick thinking of Jeff�s passenger prolonged his agony, Melanie thought. Laura hadn�t been spared; her ankles cut and bleeding, one sprained, her head cut, she now looked bedraggled wearing an ace bandage, icing her foot, taking pain medicine for her many bruises and cuts. But Laura and Melanie had taken turns sitting with Jeff, Laura despite her discomfort, and Melanie perhaps because of it. His life was in the balance, and Melanie simply found herself afraid. Sitting with Laura drinking coffee, or sitting with Jeff watching his face for signs of recognition, she let those things come out that perhaps she had been hiding from the beginning of the relationship between the flight instructor and the receptionist. She did not think she could spend the rest of her life in the company of a man who pushed himself, who was caught by the fever of aviation and who did not shrink from it.

As often happens in tense situations, the female heart knits with another one of it�s kind and Melanie found herself both grateful to Laura for saving Jeff out on the rock and unsure to whether or not it was such a great idea. Melanie was a quiet woman; purposeful, perhaps thinking things out longer than was required and so many of the things she feared for Jeff had stayed in her heart till such a time as this. Watching Laura�s face, cut, stitched, and seeing purple bruises on her wrists, she was at first reluctant to go to breakfast with her on a Saturday and happy to do so at the same time. The hospital cafeteria perhaps was not the most intimate of settings for a private conversation, but after seeing Jeff still resting in some sense of comfort, the institutionalized place replete with trays and stainless steel serving centers, concrete floors and cheap tables all conspired to make Melanie willing to shed her own discomfort. Laura had been here every day; Melanie didn�t know how she did it; taking over the counter pain medicines to make herself come here to greet her or sit with Jeff when she could not in some ways increased Melanie�s respect for her. Conversation lagged as someone dropped a tray full of food and stainless steel silverware scattered. Attendants quickly appeared to clean up the mess and Melanie drew a sip from her weak coffee, grateful for it�s warmth if not it�s potency.

She sighed thoughtfully now and put down her coffee cup. She was hungry and so now she put a fork full of eggs in her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and addressed Laura Miller.

�I don�t� know if Jeff has ever told you anything about us,� she now said, taking a sip of orange juice to give Laura a chance to respond.

�Not much. Jeff doesn�t talk much; only flies.�

�You�ve been with him for a year now; various flights and such; he hasn�t ever mentioned our relationship to you?�

�Only in passing. We talk about planes.�

�I see.� Melanie�s gray eyes darkened. �Jeff won�t talk to me about them. He knows I�m afraid of them.�

�You�re dating a flight instructor and you�re afraid of planes?�

�Not the planes so much,� she said, her heart swelling, �more afraid of what they can do to him.�

Laura saw Melanie�s eyes filling with tears.

�Pretty reliable machines,� she tried to comfort her, �good mechanics and Jeff�s pretty thorough; looks inside the engine to make sure everything�s okay. I would trust him with my life.�

�Yes,� said the woman who had spent more hours with the pilot than his passenger had, �I know. He is very thorough; very methodical, sometimes to the point of distraction. I don�t know that I�ve ever said anything to him about this.�

Laura felt a bit as if she were intruding.

�Does this have anything to do with my actions after the landing?� she wanted to know. �Why you tell me this?�

Melanie nodded.

�I�m grateful for your help. Doctor Clemens said he would probably have died without you there. Jeff�s a skinny guy you know; not much fat on him; but he couldn�t have reached a blanket; not with his foot penned like that.�

�You�re afraid of his flying?�

�No. He�s an excellent pilot. I�m afraid of losing him.�

�Yes,� Laura said as Melanie hid her emotion in a mouth full of eggs. �He landed that plane fine,� she felt as if her words were empty.

�You trusted him with your life. But I think you saved his.�

�Oh, I�m not sure,� Laura emptied some creamer into the weak coffee. �I think we�re both kind of lucky I had my cell phone within reach. Jeff�s fell out of his pocket under the pedals. We lost it.�

�Wouldn�t have mattered,� she said again �Jeff still owes you his life. He landed the plane and you kept him from freezing up there.�

They sat in silence again. Melanie worked furiously on finishing her sausage. Forks and spoons clattered around them, the spray of a dish washer sounded from the kitchen, sliding out gleaming, steaming trays of now sterile dishes. Laura sat in silence. Taking her hand with a purple bruise on the wrist and holding a fork sometimes took longer than it should have, but she managed to finish her eggs. She looked up and saw Doctor Clemens appear amongst the tables, searching for someone. She caught his gaze, waved. He walked briskly toward them. It was obvious he hadn�t had enough sleep; his eyes were red-rimmed. He greeted them soberly and got to the point. He was smiling if only a little.

�Jeff�s awake now. He�s doing a little better. One of you can go in for a few minutes.�

The two women got to their feet and Melanie felt ill with fear. They walked in silence out of the noisy room and back through the sedate halls. Silence passed between them in the elevator. They exited onto the carpeted floor and walked the all too familiar hall to the ward. They stood by the white phone, it�s sterile mass protruding from the wall, linking them to the nurses inside who cared for the gravely injured.

�You go,� Melanie said, her hands shaking. �I can�t. Besides, he�ll want to see you; to know if you�re okay.�

Laura pulled up a chair and sat next to Jeff. He turned his face to her; his eyes were half open; he seemed lost in his own world; his breathing was easy, he rested. He seemed not to be in pain; or perhaps it was masked by the morphine. She looked at his hands on the covers; scratches ran over the tops of them, disappearing into the hair on his wrists; his knuckles white against the whiter sheet. The IV with the antibiotics against infection seemed to be doing their job. He lay very still as if not sure where he was. Laura had never noticed his eyes before; they were cool and kind. He turned and opened them. She felt as if Melanie should have been here; perhaps his mother should be here; but it was she who was here and now she eased herself near him. She moved a bit closer; put her hand near his fingers.

�Hello,� she said to him. �You�re awake.�

He just lay there not responding for a moment.

�You�re pretty badly injured. You�ve been sick.�

He didn�t say anything, but seemed to recognize her; a smile played across his lips. He moved his right hand and laid it on her wrist. She felt the fevered warmth of his fingers; they bit into her arm; a touch not so intimidating as it was intimate; a kind hand perhaps acknowledging an injury. She knelt beside him; he saw the white bandage and lifted his hand from her wrist and touched her face.

�You know me?� she said because she had nothing else to say.

He coughed; she wiped his mouth; his fingers touched her cheek; he had seen her stitches.

�It was your landing,� she said, trying to tease him. �It�s your fault.�

That seemed to bring a smile; it livened up his pale face. He let his hand fall to the coverlet; this time Laura gently eased it to his side. The fingers curled into a fist. She gently caressed them.

�Do you want anything?� she asked him. �Water?�

She turned away from him for a moment, picked up a small pitcher, showed it to him. He reached for it. She moved the bed so he could drink it; she put it into his hand.

�Can you talk?� she suddenly asked, wondering if perhaps something else had gone wrong. He leaned back on the pillows.

�I remember the landing,� he said. �I don�t remember anything after that.�

�Nothing?� she questioned, wondering if he would recall her nearness.

�I was so cold. I remember that.�

�Yes,� she said quietly. �And now you�re too warm.�

The IV dripped above him; he turned and looked at it. He seemed to feel something heavy and tried to look toward the end of his bed. She told him about the castes and the surgery.

�You�ll fit in with your plane,� she said, teasing him, �all you need is a few cables now.�
  
Genuine amusement flickered in the dull eyes. They suddenly sparkled; life returning and Laura sent up a silent prayer.

�Laura,� he said, he knew her name, �thanks for everything.�



She covered him.

�We don�t have to talk about it. You just rest. Melanie will come, soon.�

�Are you okay?� he suddenly asked, his eyes suddenly clear, as if he had finally emerged from a haze.

�Cuts and bruises. I have a sprained ankle. You took the worst of it.�

She did not tell him that everyone said she had probably saved his life.

�You okay?� he asked again, as if trying to search his hazy memory for something.

�I�m fine,� she said, concern lacing her voice. �What is troubling you?�

But he did not answer. The effort seemed to exhaust him. She gently touched his hand. His fever had returned.


 

 

Copyright © 2004 Shelley J Alongi
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"