Julie Clark - The Last Flight

Eva tried to look skeptical. It wouldn’t work if she agreed too quickly. “Are you crazy? Why would you want to do something like that for me?”

“You’d be doing it for me,” Claire said. “I can’t go home. And I’m a fool if I think I have the skills to disappear in Puerto Rico.”

Eva’s eyes shot up to Claire’s face. “What do you mean?”

Claire said, “You don’t need to worry.”

Eva shook her head. “If I’m going to do this, the least you can do is tell me what I’m stepping into.”

Claire looked toward the stall door and said, “I had a plan to leave my husband. It fell apart, and he found out about it. I have to disappear before…”

“Before what? Is he dangerous?”

“Only to me.”

Eva studied the e-ticket on Claire’s phone, as if she were thinking. “How can we trade tickets if we don’t even look alike?”

“It won’t matter. We’re already through security. You’ll have my phone, with my boarding pass. No one will question you.” She stared at Eva, her eyes bright and desperate. “Please,” she whispered. “This is my only chance.”

Eva knew what it was like to almost have something within her grasp, only to have it yanked away again. It made you desperate, a hunger so fierce it blinded you to all the ways it might go wrong.

* * *

The plan turned out to be simple. They quickly transferred the contents of their bags, Claire pulling an NYU cap from hers and tucking her hair underneath. Then she took off her sweater and handed it to Eva. “My husband is going to leave no lead unfollowed. Every minute of this day will be unpacked and studied. Including airport security footage. We’ll need to trade more than just tickets.”

Eva slipped off her coat and handed it to Claire, hesitating for a moment. It was her favorite, an army-green hooded one with all the zippers and inner pockets that had served her well for many years.

Claire put it on, still talking. “When you land, use my credit card to pull out cash, or buy a ticket somewhere else. Whatever you want. Just leave a trail my husband can follow.” Claire tucked a computer case into Eva’s duffel, now resting at Claire’s feet. Then she opened her toiletry bag and pulled out a plastic travel toothbrush, slipping it into one of the pockets of Eva’s old coat, which Eva found odd. Oral hygiene seemed a strange thing to be prioritizing right now. From her wallet, Claire took a wad of cash and shoved it into another pocket, then dropped the wallet back into her own purse and held it out to Eva. “Do it fast, though, before he cuts everything off,” she said. “My PIN is 3710.”

Eva took it, though she didn’t need Claire’s money. Then she handed Claire her own purse, not even bothering to look through it, happy to be rid of all of it. The only cash she needed right now was tucked in a pouch against her skin, the rest of it far away, waiting for her.

Eva slid her arms into the pink cashmere sweater, feeling her escape drawing nearer, hoping Claire wouldn’t lose her nerve. In ninety minutes she’d be in the air, on her way to Puerto Rico. Once on the ground, Eva knew a hundred ways she could disappear. Alter her appearance, then get off the island as fast as possible. Charter a boat. Charter a plane. She had enough money to do whatever she needed. She didn’t care what Claire ended up doing.

A conversation she’d had with Dex a week ago floated back to her, spoken offhand at a basketball game. The only way to get a fake ID is to find someone who’s willing to give you theirs . Eva nearly laughed aloud, Dex’s words manifesting before her eyes in the handicapped stall at JFK’s Terminal 4.

Claire fiddled with one of the zippers on the coat she now wore, and Eva thought about who might be waiting for her on the ground in Oakland. They might pause for a moment when they saw Claire exit the airport wearing Eva’s familiar coat. But that’s where the similarities ended.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Eva said, pressing her prepaid phone to her chest, “but this has all my pictures. A few saved voicemails from my husband…” She couldn’t risk Claire discovering that it had no contacts, no photos, and only one number in her call history. She held up Claire’s. “But I’ll need you to disable your password so I can scan the e-ticket. Unless you want to print a ticket and keep your phone?”

“And let him track me that way? No thanks,” Claire said, swiping through her settings and disabling her password. “But I do need to grab a number first.”

Eva watched as Claire took a pen from her purse and scribbled something on the back of an old receipt.

Just then, the flight to Oakland was announced. Boarding had begun. They looked at each other, fear and excitement mingling on their faces.

“I guess this is it,” Claire said.

Eva imagined Claire boarding the flight to California and getting off at the other end. Walking out into the bright sunshine without a clue of what she might find there, and she tried not to feel guilty. But Claire seemed scrappy. Smart. She’d figure something out. “Thank you for helping me start over,” Eva said.

Claire pulled her into a hug and whispered, “You saved me. And I won’t forget it.”

And then she was gone. Out of the stall, disappeared back into the busy airport, security cameras recording a woman in a green coat and NYU baseball cap pulled low over her eyes, walking toward a different life.

Eva locked the door again, leaning against the cool tile wall, and let all of the adrenaline from the morning leak out of her, leaving her limbs weak and her head fuzzy. She wasn’t free yet, but she was closer than she’d ever been.

* * *

Eva waited inside the locked stall as long as she could, imagining Claire flying west, racing the sun toward freedom.

“Boarding for Flight 477 with service to Puerto Rico has begun,” a voice announced overhead, and she stepped out and strode past the long line of women waiting. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her reflection in the mirror and marveled at how calm she appeared, when inside she felt like dancing. She pushed up the sleeves of Claire’s pink cashmere sweater, washed her hands quickly, and hitched her new purse over her shoulder before exiting back onto the concourse.

At the gate, she waited on the periphery, her eyes scanning the crowd out of habit, and wondered if she’d ever learn how to be in a space without having to assess it for risks and danger. But everyone around her seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts, anxious to escape the frigid New York temperatures for a warmer climate.

A harried gate attendant pulled a speaker close to her mouth and said, “Our flight this morning isn’t full, so any travelers wishing to fly standby should check in at the counter.”

People in vacation clothes jockeyed for spots in line, wanting to be first in their boarding group, but with only one gate attendant on duty, things were chaotic and slow to begin. Eva made sure to position herself on the edge of a loud family of six. Inside her purse, Claire’s phone buzzed. Curious, she pulled it out.

What the fuck have you done?

It wasn’t the words that stopped her, but the vitriol behind them, poisonous and familiar. Then the phone rang, jolting her nerves and making her nearly drop it. She let it go to voicemail. It rang again. And then again after that. She peered toward the Jetway, counting the people ahead of her, urging the line to move faster. To board and get into the air, to be on her way.

“What’s the holdup?” a woman behind her asked.

“I heard the hatch wasn’t opening right.”

“Great,” the woman said.

When it was Eva’s turn, she handed the phone to the flight attendant, who scanned her e-ticket without even glancing at the name. She handed it back to Eva, who promptly turned it off and dropped it back into Claire’s purse. The line crept forward, Eva on the threshold of the Jetway, buried in a long line of impatient travelers. Someone’s bag bumped her from behind, knocking her purse to the ground and sending Claire’s things skittering in different directions.