This is the part two, the end to the story of the fury. It comes as failure.
Our trip down the mountain started early enough to be late at night. Still dark. The ride to Sacramento was punctured by off hand quips and comments from back seat to front. A sentence here and a reply there. The sunrise was slow and graceful. I could almost forget where we were going and enjoy the ride.
Before long, an hour later, the airport loomed into view and fear sat on my shoulder once again. I felt its weight but could no longer recognize its face. Was I not as terrified this time around? I asked myself and moi. No. No, we were not. True, mom was not with me. If the plane went down my sister would not be an orphan. I wasn’t asking Kisa about the sleeping habits of geese, the movements of terrorists, or the unhealthy habits of our pilots. I seemed to be oddly calm, oddly enough. Even the full body scan didn’t reveal fear in me. I was fine.
I was fine until I boarded the plane, that is. On our flight out to CA I was the last person to board. The very last person to buckle in. The last person to comply with the flight attendants and their rules. It would be that way again. Going home I had the very last seat in the very last row in a teeny, tiny, tin can plane. Doesn’t the tail always break off first? I hissed at Kisa. Isn’t this the most dangerous seat on the plane? To make matters worse we.weren’t.sitting.together. I think I scared Mr. Businessman enough so that when Kisa asked, he switched in a heartbeat. Sure, you can sit with the crazy doomsday lady he seemed to say. Sure, sure. Go right ahead.
For the rest of the flight I kept my head down, buried in the crazy I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell book (review coming on the LunaSea side). After the first five hours I really thought I was going to make it without the Fury. I really thought this would be a better flight. I was confident I could stay composed. Until Eve. Chatty, spunky, spiky redheaded Eve. Of course sitting in her jump seat she was right next to Kisa. Of course Ms. Chatterbox just had to strike up a conversation with Mr. Everybody’s Friend. Soon they were swapping stories about how cold Canada is. How crazy California is. Blah, blah, blah. Then she asked why we had been in California. The good times came to a screeching halt as Kisa killed the conversation with, “we were there for a funeral.” Out of the blue Eve starts telling us about losing her son. Car accident. As she dabbed her tear-drowned eyes her aquamarine eyeshadow slid down her cheeks making the perfect picture of pathetic. Kisa couldn’t stop there. He shared that we lost a cousin, same age as her son, as well. Before I knew it we had the entire back row silent and sullen and I’ve said to hell with composure and cried with a new broken heart.
I don’t remember the landing. We took a long time gathering our belongings. As we taxied to the gate I pretended to drop things under my seat, just so I could bend over and hide my eyes from the rest of the travelers. Mr. Businessman waited until I surfaced before leaving long enough say, “sorry for your loss.” Eve hugged me tight as I tried to escape up the aisle. The last person off. I choked on my grief and realized I no longer had Fury. With my composure gone I had failure.