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.
As she bent down to gather everything, she glanced back toward the concourse. Above her, the line had closed around her, blocking her from the gate agent’s view, and she realized how easy it would be to slip away. The flight wasn’t full. They might not notice her empty seat. She was scanned onto the flight, and Claire was already on her way to Oakland.
Eva had only a split second to make the decision. She could see how she’d do it. Step to the side and lean against the wall and fake another phone call. She’d be just another traveler, consumed with her own life, on her way somewhere new. She could leave the airport, head into Brooklyn and find a hair salon willing to take a walk-in wanting to dye her hair brown. Then pay cash for a later flight using Claire’s ID. There could easily be two Claire Cooks, traveling to two completely different destinations. And once she landed and disappeared, the data would become irrelevant.
And so would she.
Claire
Tuesday, February 22
It isn’t until an hour into the flight that my heart stops pounding, that I take the first deep breath I’ve had in years. I glance at my watch. The plane I’m expected to be on is somewhere over the Atlantic right now, thousands of miles away. I picture it landing in Puerto Rico, taxiing into the terminal and discharging vacationers, Eva slipping by everyone, invisible. Rory