Marla O’Malley stuffed her carry-on in the overhead compartment, let out a deep breath, and sat down between two men in seat 17-B. She was destined for a middle seat on this three-and-a-half-hour flight home to bury her mother.
She tried to make herself as small as she could as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Sleep wouldn’t take her, but at least she could pretend. Besides, she had no desire to talk to anyone. The guilt of not being there at the end weighed on her more than anything else in her life ever had.
Once all the passengers had filed down the aisle and stowed away their belongings, people started to buckle in for take-off.
Marla felt someone tap her shoulder. “Excuse me?” a much older woman said in a soft voice. “It looks like there are two available seats beside me. Would you like one?”
“I would love that,” Marla said, barely getting the words out. She had no idea why, but tears started to come. She stepped around the man beside her and slid into the window seat in the kind woman’s row.
“Hey…everything’s going to be okay,” the woman said in the same soft tone. Her eyes twinkled. It felt like she could see into Marla’s soul. There was an aura about the woman or a strange presence in their midst. Perhaps someone else was sitting in the space between them.
“Get some rest, honey,” the woman said as she picked up the book on her lap.
“I’ll try,” Marla replied. She leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. She breathed in, breathed out.
Marla didn’t know why, but she thought of the time her family went on vacation to a small lake in Maine. She couldn’t remember its name, but the memory came back to her as clear as the morning skies had been. Every morning, she and her mother were the first to wake. They walked the path to the dock and sat with their feet in the cold water. Their mugs of tea kept them warm as they took in the silence, the stillness.
It felt like Marla was there again, on the dock. The first rays of sunshine flooded through the trees.
“Hey, Marla,” her mother said, putting an arm around her, “do you know how much I love you?”
“Probably as much as I love you,” Marla heard herself say.
“And I always will. Don’t you forget it.” Her mother smiled a final time and kissed her forehead.
Marla slept soundly in that in-between place as the plane inched toward the runway.
Thank you so much for reading “Runway” — I hope you enjoyed it.
Be sure to check back in for Friday’s story. I’ll release the prompt/theme for our fifty-word story writing challenge for September. By then I’ll hopefully decide on a name, too! I’m excited to host these monthly threads (or “fires”).
Take care and have a great week!
That closing line is great. A beautifully crafted story!
That in-between space is such an evocative way to describe the rocky teetering between life and death.
Tend those fires, Justin! See you Friday.