Close Landing

Mika’d first met Jasmine at a hole-in-the-wall bar in Dubai. She’d flown there, one of her first few jobs as an air hostess, and after being too nervous to ask her co-workers to explore the nightlife with her, she had decided to go on her own. It had been terrifying to be all alone in a bar, in a city, in a country, with no one that she knew. But that setting, those circumstances, had allowed the most beautiful girl in the room to teach the flustered air hostess how to smoke. She could still feel hands on her chin, as the lady had whispered into her ear, lips barely grazing her neck-

Hold it in, like medicine, gorgeous, don’t feel scared to cough!

-and she’d never gotten the beautiful girl, Jasmine, out of her mind. Years passed, texts and calls and promises, all down the drain in the name of distance. It’s not you, it’s me, it’s the miles between us— and Mika truly cursed fate then! For giving her something so rare, so prized, then ripping it all away from her. But fate was not so easily spiindeed forted, crossing the paths of an air hostess and a chemo patient once again, and there they were. Jasmine crying, choking on her tears, and Mika begging for her to hold on to hope to-

Hold it in, like medicine, my sunshine. I’ll be here by your side.

It had taken one look at Jasmine, ghostly under the fluorescent lights, nearly hidden in her hospital gowns with tears dripping onto her hands, for Mika to voice the easiest decision she’d ever made.

There’s one more flight, and then I’m done. I quit. I’ll be here for you, Jasmine, right by your side.

In hindsight, the wording and the timing were awful. Mika reflected as she stared hard at the bloodstains on her hands as Dr. Martin patched up her nose, bless the poor guy’s soul. He had chuckled earlier, commenting on how lucky Jasmine was that she still had the energy to punch that hard. Mika had huffed once before her voice had wavered and snapped, and she’d started to cry. Dr. Martin had stayed and tried to explain that it wasn’t personal. Jasmine had been undergoing chemo on and off for months at a time; it had been a taxing couple of years. Mika nodded through the sniffles, and as she walked out the door, Dr. Martin smiled and told her to keep her head up.

On the ride home, Mika wondered how the same man that had labeled Jasmine with her expiration date could be the same one telling Mika to stay strong. What a load of bullshit.

But now, looking back, Mika understands what Dr. Martin must have meant. Mika turns to the window to stare at the dark waves beneath her. She’s seen it a thousand times at this point, and yet the sheer novelty of looking down and seeing an expanse of sheer darkness never failed to make her shiver. It’s her last flight, and that’s scary. But it’s the start of something new. Six more hours, and she’ll be—

There’s a lull in the engine rumble, and suddenly there’s nothing at all.

One moment Mika is daydreaming of Jasmine’s smile, and the next, the plane is underwater. A piercing wail cuts through the others screaming, the cry of a child, and that seems to be the final straw to bring Mika back to the world of the living. There is pain, God, there’s so much pain, and it has to be the seatbelt ripping into her abdomen, but Mika can’t help but wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like. Getting so close to the light, only to have it ripped away again? In all the years she’d traveled, and it’d never happened before, how could this—

A window cracks. And then another. And then some more, and the water is rising, and as Mika struggles to unbuckle fast enough, she thinks of Jasmine, holding on so desperately and—

— breathes in a giant gulp of air and thinks one last time—

Hold it in, like medicine—!