Her hand clasped the armrest as if she were dangling from a precipice. The engines roared and as the jet taxied down the runway her knuckles turned white. She took in a deep breath and held it as if that was only thing keeping her on board. Chelsea studied Ashley as the jet became airborne and the force of liftoff made her sink deeper into the already cramped seat. She reached over and laid her hand gently on top of Ashley’s and the white knuckles eased their grip and rested comfortably.
“A friend usually gives me an atavan, but he was all out.” Ashley said as she tried to deepen her breath.
“It’ll be okay.” Chelsea said softly. And as Ashley turned to look at her she could see something reassuring in her eyes and suddenly she was outside of herself.
“I used to love to fly.” Ashley said quietly. “Then about a year and a half after 911 I suddenly developed a real aversion to it.”
Chelsea squeezed Ashley’s hand and something about that sweet compassionate gesture eased her fear even more.
“What is it that you think you’re afraid of?” Chelsea asked as she shifted and relaxed into the flight.
“I think it comes down to claustrophobia.” Ashley said softly.
“Really.”
“Yeah. I can’t ask the driver to pull over and let me off. Once I’m on I can’t get out.” Ashley said.
“What was your attitude about it when you enjoyed flying?” Chelsea asked as she motioned for the stewardess.
“I don’t know. I guess I always felt free. Independent. Like an adult. Like my dad, actually. He was a salesman and he used to travel all the time. Flying was fun.” Ashley said and her breath shortened.
“Don’t you feel free?” Chelsea asked as the attendant arrived. “Yes, I’ll have a screwdriver.” She said as she pulled out a crisp ten spot. The question resonated with Ashley. She was unsure whether to bring up Felix or not. She was so conflicted. She felt like she owed something to him but she was absolutely in love with Chelsea.
“Not so much.” Ashley whispered.
“Why?” Chelsea asked.
“Because I’m not sure how to ask for help.” Ashley confessed.
“I’ll help you.” Chelsea said nonchalantly.
“I’m not sure if you can.” Ashley replied enigmatically and tears welled up in her yes. She could feel her lungs start to constrict and something profound rise up from her belly.
“Hey.” Chelsea said as she moved sideways to tend to Ashley. “Hey---It’s going to be okay. We’ll be in London in five hours tops. I promise. Then we’ll get to the hotel so you can lie down.”
“Once I’m on the ground I’ll be okay.” Ashley said between hushed sobs.
“You’re just having a little panic attack. Just breathe. Nothing is going to happen. You’re going to be just fine.” Chelsea reassured as she ran her fingers through Ashley’s hair.
“Close your eyes…Breathe.” Chelsea said demurely. “What color do you see?”
Ashley closed her eyes and after a moment she saw swirling pink wheels before her. They were almost cosmic and yet comic.
“Pink.” Ashley replied.
“Pink is a great color.” Chelsea said as she threaded her fingers through Ashley’s. Ashley could feel the energy moving through them. She could feel the sea.
“Red and white.” Chelsea added then she paused a moment. “White is the potential for fulfillment. Red achieves.” She whispered as she turned her eyes directly towards Ashley. Ashley opened her eyes and everything in her line of vision was cloaked with a rose tint. “Universal love.” Chelsea said piercingly. “When you give someone a pink flower it means ‘I will never forget you.’”.
Ashley studied her friend for a moment. Somehow the words echoed as if she had heard them before. Perhaps someone told her the meaning and she had forgotten about it until now. And as she thumbed through her mental rolodex to recall who might have conveyed this information she realized that Chelsea had successfully distracted her enough to momentarily forget her fear. The panic attack had subsided and so had her tears.
“Here.” Chelsea said as she handed Ashley a small blue pill.
“What is this?” Ashley asked.
“Tylenol PM. It’ll help you go to sleep and before you know it we’ll be in the UK.” Chelsea said cheerfully. Ashley downed the sleep inducing medication and as an Adam Sandler film began to play she was asleep within fifteen minutes.
Chelsea was halfway through her screwdriver when she suddenly felt a bit nauseous. She got up to go to the bathroom when a flight attendant stopped her.
“I’m sorry, miss, but you have to remain in your seat. The pilot has not turned off the seatbelt sign.” She said smugly.
“I’m about to puke so you better make way or this entire row could be in the splash zone.” Chelsea said matter-of-factly.
“Let her go! Let her go!” The passengers chanted and Chelsea pushed the attendant aside and stepped quickly down the center aisle. She made it just in time as her lunch came up quite suddenly. She waited for another wave and sure enough the last bits of lunch reappeared. After barfing two or three times she felt exhausted and sat down on the toilet. There was a soft knock on the door.
“Are you done in there?” A passenger called.
“Just a minute.” Chelsea replied. She splashed some water on her face and then thought it couldn’t hurt to check her phone. As she turned it back on there was another knock on the door.
“I’m sorry but I really have to go!” The passenger said urgently.
“Okay, okay.” Chelsea said and she pocketed her phone and opened the door. The passenger looked sheet white and she wondered if maybe some stomach virus might be going around. She stepped through the portal as the man jumped inside and the sounds of an upset stomach leeched out into the cabin. She thought maybe she should hang around in case another wave of nausea came over her. She waited outside the accordion door as if in line. She inconspicuously pulled her phone out and realized there was a text message from Scott. “Call me. It’s important.” Chelsea felt herself sinking. What the hell had she gotten herself into she wondered. Another wave of nausea washed over her but she swallowed hard and took a deep breath and said to herself, “I will not throw up. I will not throw up.” It was only the beginning of the plane ride. It would be a long five to six hours. The same stewardess made a beeline for Chelsea.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to take your seat now.” She said sweetly.
“I’m fighting another wave of nausea.” Chelsea replied. The stewardess reached over her head and rummaged through a back compartment. Within moments she handed Chelsea a barf bag. A large barf bag.
“I guess it’d be another story if it decided to move the other way.” Chelsea said. The flight attendant glared. “Thank you for your compassion, Marsha.” She added as she read the woman’s name tag and made her way back to her seat.
The wheels squealed as the air breaks engaged. Heathrow was a blue-black foggy no man’s land. Chelsea looked over at Ashley sleeping peacefully. She did not want to wake her but it was time to disembark. As she sat there gazing at her friend she knew she would have to somehow explain her condition. She had to speak with Scott first.
“Ashley…Ashley.” Chelsea cooed. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve arrived.” The words held weight. Ashley struggled to open her eyes and for a moment she seemed perplexed and disoriented.
“We’re in London.” Chelsea said softly then she closed her eyes hoping to see the color pink.
The line was long and slow. Chelsea could feel another wave of illness overtake her.
“Are you okay? You look really pale.” Ashley said concerned as she hefted the two bags from the baggage carousel..
“My stomach isn’t right.” Chelsea said.
“Do you need something to eat?” Ashley asked.
“Oh God no.” Chelsea replied. Then she darted off in the direction of the ladies room. Ashley took the bags out of the customs line until Chelsea returned.
Chelsea threw up once more but there was nothing left in her stomach.
“Jesus Christ.” She said as she drew in a breath and looked at the empty toilet. She pulled out her phone and dialed Scott.
“’Ello, Scott here.” She heard him say after the third ring.
“Scott, it’s Chelsea.” She said weakly,
“Oh, hey. Chelsea.” He said. “Um. How are you?”
“I’ve been better.” She replied. “I got your text.”
“Yeah, em. Well, em. I, uh…remembered something.” He said sheepishly.
“Go on.” Chelsea replied.
“We did shag after all.” He said bluntly.
“I figured as much.” She said and she had to chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
“What’s so funny.” He said with a hint of indignation.
“The fact that I don’t remember any of it and that I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.” She replied.
“Oh, Bloody hell.” He said and there was a long pause. “What’re you going to do?” He asked.
“Well considering that I pretty much don’t know you at all my choices are pretty clear.” She said.
“Yeah, well, ah, sure. I figured you would take care of it.” He said enigmatically. “Look, I’m really, really sorry about what happened. If I can help in any way---“ He stuttered.
“Yeah, well, I’ll probably need about a thousand pounds.” Chelsea said. “That’s about what it costs”.
“Yeah----sure. Yes, of course. Em…I can give you a note---“ He started.
“I want cash.” Chelsea said tiredly.
“Oh, All right then. Shall I wire it to you?” He asked.
“Actually I just landed in London so I’m in town.” She replied.
“Oh, em, well.” He said and then he went quiet for a moment. “If you stop by the office I’ll have it ready---“ He stammered.
“You know what? I’m at the Savoy. Call me when you’re in the lobby and I’ll come down.” She interrupted.
“Right, well then. I’ll be there straightaway---” He began but she hung up. She strolled out into the bustling airport and spotted Ashley waiting nervously. When she caught her eye Ashley said, “Are you okay? I guess we have to wade through customs before I can get us a cab.” They looked around and the line snaked around several times.
“I’m in a new kind of hell.” Chelsea whispered.
Ashley handled their bags as Chelsea moved only when she had to. It was about ten o’clock in the morning London time. Ashley was stunned at how small everything seemed. New York was such a big city. Everything was big---the streets, the buildings, the cars, the sidewalks. It amazed her how quaint this big little city really was. Everything made compact. Perhaps they didn’t know they could have it any other way, Ashley thought. It was an island after all. But, then, so was Manhattan. The cabs were small and extremely expensive but the drivers were the same. It didn’t matter what country you visited the taxi cab drivers were usually Indian, Pakistani or Egyptian.
“I really think you should eat something.” Ashley advised climbing into the car.
“It’ll just come up again---and the thought of English food makes me want to heave.” Chelsea said as she rested her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes.
“How about something light and vegetarian.” Ashley suggested. Chelsea laughed.
“If you can find it I’ll try and keep it down.” She replied.
“I know of a place.” The Cabdriver interjected happily.
“Awesome.” Ashley said.
The cab pulled up to the Savoy, a brilliant old time grand hotel.
“I need to make two more stops.” Ashley said to the driver. “So wait until I come back out, please.” The cabbie nodded and smiled. Ashley pulled the bags from the small trunk just as the bellhop arrived with a valet cart. She turned and took Chelsea’s hand. She put her other hand to Chelsea’s forehead.
“You’re not feverish.” She said with a nurturing voice. Chelsea moved awkwardly.
“Something disagrees with me is all” She replied. Then Ashley kissed her. Right there on the curb of the hotel. Where everyone could see. In broad daylight. Chelsea pulled away after a moment.
“I lost my head.” Ashley said quietly. “I’m still groggy from the Tylenol.” She added as she stepped back.
“I’m sorry.” Chelsea said. “I didn’t mean to…” and she could feel herself dissolving into tears. “I’m just, I’m…” She tried to explain.
“Maybe you’re just tired.” Ashley said and she smiled kindly through her wound. “Can you check us in while I find something you can eat?” Chelsea nodded but the tears kept flowing. Her hormones must be surging, she thought. And the fatigue was overwhelming. Ashley climbed back into the cab.
“Take me to the vegetarian place, please.” And before she knew it they were speeding through the small streets curving one way and then another. Ashley was astounded at the layout of the roads. It reminded her of those times she used to get lost in the west village because it is one of the few places in New York not built on the grid system. How could anyone navigate such a hodge podge of convergences and divergent paths. They pulled down a set of streets that seemed oddly familiar. Ashley had never been to London before, though. Perhaps they reminded her of a part of New York, she thought. But most of the buildings were modern. Only a few row houses seemed reminiscent of old brownstones.
“Where are we?” Ashley asked and even though the sun had burned through the fog and things seemed clearer there was a darkness that settled over the area.
“Whitechapel. The East End, Miss.” The driver said cheerfully. Suddenly Ashley felt her own version of nausea move through her.
“This is where Jack the Ripper committed his heinous crimes.” The driver added. Ashley reasoned that maybe she was picking up on the dark vibe of the past. She was like a sponge sometimes in that way. And although she had heard of Jack the Ripper she was not at all interested in the sensationalism of the crimes or the perpetrator whoever he was. She couldn’t ignore the feeling, though. She had definitely been in this place before. The old pub on the corner was familiar. She had seen the gas street lamps on the side street perhaps in another time. She felt herself slipping away slowly as if fading into another dimension. London was magical but in a wholly different way than New York. An abundance of blackness like ink followed the traveler on his path. It wafted in on the air as she climbed out into what seemed like a pervasively Indian neighborhood.
“Wait for me, please.” She requested and then ducked into the small storefront for traditional Mumbai cuisine. Inside the diverse clientele was amazing. As she stood to the side holding a paper menu she gazed out over a plethora of cultural diversity. Africans, Carrribeans, East Indians, Asians and a few hipsters basking in their secret discovery.
“You! You, what you like?” An old woman in a bright orange sari shouted. Her hair was stark white and her eyes so ancient that it was disconcerting.
“Me?” Ashley asked.
“Yes, yes, what you like?” the old woman repeated impatiently.
“What do you recommend for a sour stomach?” Ashley asked innocently. The old woman removed her apron and darted out from behind the counter. She took Ashley’s hand and led her down a small wooden hallway. The restaurant itself seemed like a tin shack. Something similar to a roadside barbeque joint in the South. Single tables lined the corridor each filled with patrons squeezed against the wall but enjoying the experience. As Ashley clung to the old woman’s hand she felt like she was floating. She was definitely outside of her body and simultaneously fully engaged. The corridor opened into another small room. Several old women were working behind another counter. The customers all Asian. The old woman gestured for her to sit.
“You having a baby.” The woman said matter-of-factly.
“No---no. Not at all. My friend has a little motion sickness is all.” Ashley explained.
“No. You having baby.” The old woman insisted.
“That’s impossible. I’m one hundred percent sure that I am not pregnant.” Ashley insisted.
“You not pregnant but you ARE having baby.” The old woman smiled and laughed. Ashley wondered if she were dreaming. Was this conversation really happening? Then she thought that things were being lost in translation so she smiled and nodded back in agreement.
“Something to settle the stomach.” She said slow and loud and her southern accent made the room turn. She became the center of attention all of a sudden. The old woman shifted and spoke in an unfamiliar language to the cooks behind the shoddy counter. They all smiled and began preparing a concoction.
“Soup. We make a soup. You feel better real soon.” The old woman said and she gazed intently at Ashley.
“Ansa.” She said and she pointed to herself and smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Ansa.” Ashley replied courteously.
“You Ansa.” The old woman laughed and then poked Ashley with her bony finger.
“Okay. Sure.” Ashley agreed a bit confused. She just wanted to get the soup and get back to Chelsea. Then the old woman removed a beautiful saffron colored scarf and placed it around Ashley’s neck. An amazingly kind smile bloomed slowly across the woman’s face and she suddenly did not look old anymore. She was timeless. The scarf was warm and comforting. And Ashley could see those pink wheels spinning before her open eyes. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the day before. Maybe her blood sugar was low and she was seeing spots, she wondered. She was still on Eastern time so it was only about 4:00AM in her mind. Way too early to be having an existential experience.
“Remember me.” The old woman said softly and she touched Ashley’s temples like a grandmother. It felt natural and yet too familiar. She pulled away and the old woman clapped her hands. Another woman stepped lively carrying a take-out bag with the soup inside.
“It last a long time.” The old woman said mysteriously then she burst into laughter.
“How much? Ashley asked nervously.
“Three pounds.” The younger woman said. Ashley placed the money plus a gratuity on the table.
“Thank you.” She said softly and quickly made her way out.
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