Blink

The 747 pitched and rolled into a nose dive.  An old man waiting for the rear lavatory fell straight down towards the bottom of the plane, crashing into various aisle seats, including Michael’s, along the way.
           This is it, Michael realized.  His body restrained at the waist by his seat belt, Michael felt the blood rush from his head.  For a moment he felt faint.  But he managed to hold on long enough to pull the cell phone out of his pocket and make a quick call.
           The screams of the passengers and the whining of the engines blended into a white noise.  After a moment, Michael didn’t notice it anymore.  In his current mental state, his surroundings actually seemed very quiet.
           The answering machine picked up.  I can’t believe it, he thought.  Then again, maybe it’s for the best.
           “Mom, Dad, it’s me.  I love you.   I love you very much.”
           He hesitated, wondering if there was more he should say.  Then he remembered.  “Happy anniversary.” 
           Michael pushed the end button on the phone and quickly tried to think of whom to call next. 
           “Let me see that!” the panicked man to Michael’s left demanded.  He reached for the phone and accidentally knocked it out of Michael’s hand.  It hit the ceiling, which was now more than vertical, and went tumbling towards the cockpit. 

“You looked beautiful tonight,” Robert said to his wife as he held open the door to their well-kept home.  It had been such a romantic evening for them.  Both were reminded of the way they felt when their love was new “and each kiss an inspiration.” When Robert softly sang that line from Stardust across the dinner table, Caroline got tears in her eyes.

On the car ride home, Robert had thought back across their relationship and all they’d accomplished together.  Not major, out-of-the ordinary, newsworthy things.  But important things.  They’d succeeded in creating a stable life for themselves and their son.  They’d raised a good-natured, happy boy who was now a kind, successful man.  As the dark road slipped by, Robert turned to Caroline and said with faux ill-breeding, “We done good, Ma.”  Caroline took his hand and smiled.  She never really liked it when he called her “Ma.”  It made her feel more matronly than she considered herself to be.  But tonight it was okay.  And he was right.  They’d done good.   

When the front door was safely locked, Caroline dropped her purse and Robert took off his jacket.  They hugged and kissed each other gently by the glow of a little living room lamp they’d picked up in Spain on their honeymoon some 35 years before. 

“Wine?” Susan asked. 

“Sure,” Robert smiled with anticipation.

Susan pulled an opened bottle from the refrigerator and took two glasses down from the cupboard.

“Oh look,” she said when she noticed the blinking red light.  “We’ve got a message.”

The End