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Grief is a complicated thing.
They say there are five stages, but, for everyone, those stages look different. There is no timeline, nor is there a right way to grieve (but, as we all know, there are plenty of wrong ways).
When someone dies in your life, you usually don’t question the fact that they’re dead. But, for Lena Garcia, one fateful day on an airplane changed everything she thought she knew about reality, family, and what it means to truly miss someone.
The morning she was due back at work, Lena Garcia awoke two hours before her alarm went off. She woke as though someone had screamed in her ear, sitting up in bed, eyes wide, heart pounding.
There was no chance of her getting back to sleep, so she made a cup of coffee and settled into her armchair to watch the sunrise through her bay window.
The sun rose red on the horizon. Sailors, take warning, Lena thought. She nearly smiled at that.
Getting out of bed was slowly growing more and more difficult for Lena. She had thought it would be the opposite, but, since what had happened, the vortex continued to sink her further and further.
Swinging her legs out of bed, brushing her teeth, going through the motions—it all felt like too much.
But, she had no choice, as the bills wouldn’t pay themselves. Not in Cali, anyway.
Lena brushed her teeth, pointedly keeping her eyes away from the green toothbrush still left untouched in the holder on the sink. Next, she put on her flight attendant’s uniform, which she had dry-cleaned the other day.
Sensible shoes strapped on, thermos of coffee in hand, Lena stepped out the door. The air smelled humid, causing her neck to instantly dampen under her scratchy white collar.
She drove to the airport, radio off. The silence had its own rhythm.
The drive to her workplace was always a beautiful one, and Lena tried to be grateful that she worked where she worked. She had to cross cobbestoned roads and bridges that spanned over oceans gleaming against the sunrise to get to the airport.
When she drove at night, it felt as though she were heading across space and time itself, thanks to the black ocean waters.
California was one of the most beautiful states, something Lena was reminded of as she drove.
Lena thought about her decision long and hard as she drove to the airport. She could say no, call off for a few more weeks. Everyone had been pretty sympathetic. The desire to cut and run was tempting.
Lena almost turned her car around. But, in the end, she couldn’t do it.
She knew if she did, she’d never return to work. In fact, she’d be at risk of never leaving the house again once she shut her doors.
She made it through security, walking into her airline’s employees’ lounge a few minutes later. As she expected, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her. They stared for just a second—any longer would’ve been noticeably rude—before everyone seemed to get up at once.
“Lena, how are you?” Cassandra, her supervisor, said. “So happy to have you back.”
Everything Cassandra said sounded like it had been scripted ahead of time, and she even had a pursed-lip, sympathetic look prepared on her face.
Lena’s relationship with Cassandra was an interesting one. Cassandra had always been polite with Lena, though Lena sensed the woman disliked something about her.
They’d flown on countless flights together, and they worked well as a pair, in terms of their efficiency. Perhaps it was Cassandra’s personality that Lena found abrasive. Looking at the woman, Lena felt a surge of anger.
She calmed the feeling quickly, though she wondered if Cassandra had seen it flare in her eyes.
“I’m fine,” Lena said, setting her thermos down. “Thank you. I’m glad to be back.” She greeted all of her coworkers one by one, and most were sympathetic, if a little awkward. It had been just a month, after all.
Thirty days since it happened. 720 hours. 43,200 minutes.
Lena found a chair in the employee room and sat down, already tired.
For the most part, Lena’s coworkers left her alone. They sat nearby, but their conversations were careful not to include her, as though grief were contagious and Lena was Patient Zero.
Lena preferred it that way. Being at work was enough to make her throat swell up and eyes blur, and the thought of making small talk made her want to scream.
Maybe this was a mistake, she thought.
Once again, Lena was wondering whether she was returning to the workforce too soon. She could quit, find a work-from-home job or something similar, and live her life as a hermit.
But, in a way, Lena was in limbo.
The house reminded her of her husband, and work was a reminder that the world kept spinning without him. That sense of unbelonging tormented Lena, who didn’t know what to do.
Before Lena could stand up and announce that no, she wasn’t ready to be at work and, no, Cassandra, she wasn’t fine, she’d never be fine, nothing about this was fine, it was time to board.
A headache pounded behind Lena’s eyes as she got on the plane.
After that, the routine of being a flight attendant kicked in, and she went on auto-pilot.
Luckily, Lena had been a flight attendant for so long (years, now) that she knew what to do without thinking about it. There were preparations to be made, aisles to be checked, and bags to be stuffed in overhead compartments.
Two people needed help with their wheelchairs, and another needed a special accommodation for their special-needs child. This flight was a busy one.
Old routines filled Lena’s mind, taking her away from her ever-darkening thoughts and whirlpool of memories.
Mercifully, Lena wasn’t put in charge of greeting the passengers. She was allowed to fiddle with the plane’s computer, looking no one in the eye. Cassandra had seen to it that Lena was given a lot of slack on her first day.
She was officious about it, of course, but Lena appreciated the gesture.
It took the passengers an hour to board, with Lena only helping where she had to.
Of course, as with any flight, people had their complaints. They were heading three hours away, though, with how these passengers acted, you’d think they were about to travel for forty days and forty nights.
“Yes, they were always this annoying,” a voice said. Lena turned. Standing there, grinning, was Amelia, one of her closest friends, as well as her co-worker.
Lena and Amelia hugged, with Amelia stating she’d switched shifts just to fly with her.
