The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,50

surroundings weren’t the only thing putting me on edge. I hadn’t planned on spending the night, so I hadn’t had clean clothes to change into. Anissa and I were about the same size, however, so she’d let me borrow a v-neck t-shirt and skinny jeans. A spare toothbrush and a travel-sized toothpaste had been waiting for me on the guest bathroom vanity after I’d emerged from my morning shower. It was a thoughtful touch, but another detail that had me wondering how often Anissa entertained overnight guests.

After about a half an hour’s drive, we pulled off the highway at an exit. I didn’t recognize the town or city. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. “I hope you don’t mind going to the airport on your day off,” Anissa remarked.

She hadn’t been forthcoming about where we were going, but I also hadn’t asked. When I took in our surroundings, I realized we hadn’t arrived at Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, however. Anissa turned on her blinker and pulled into the drive of a small executive airport.

Anissa parked her SUV close to a corrugated metal airplane hangar. It was Sunday, and the parking lot was relatively empty.

“What’s your errand?” I couldn’t help asking. I couldn’t fathom what kind of chore she had to do at a private airport.

“That was just an excuse to get you out of the house,” she revealed, turning off the car. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned around to reach into the backseat. “I want to show you something.” Her voice was slightly muffled as she rummaged around.

“What?”

She re-emerged from the backseat, holding onto a clipboard. “I could tell you,” she said, smiling, “but it’s better if I show you.”

Curiosity compelled me to follow her out of the car and towards the metal airplane hangar.

Anissa walked with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going or as if she belonged. It was a gait similar to that of my colleagues and me when we traveled to our morning gate assignments in our airline’s terminal. She strode directly into the open hangar doorway, no hesitation, while I lingered a step behind and took stock of my surroundings.

The air smelled like a combination of gasoline and crude oil. Several small aircraft, none larger than puddle jumpers—all presumably private planes—occupied the hangar. Most were covered under protective tarps.

Anissa walked up to one of the uncovered planes and stopped a few steps away. The plane was painted a pearly white color with deep blue accent stripes that ran the length of the aircraft’s body.

“Ta da!”

I stopped next to her, still not quite understanding what we were doing there. My eyebrows knit together. “You wanted to show me a plane?”

“I wanted to show you this plane specifically,” she corrected.

“Wait,” I said, slowly starting to put the pieces together. “You have your own plane?”

“I share it with my brother, Sam. You met him yesterday at the barbeque. It actually wasn’t very expensive,” she qualified. “After the market tanked in 2008, all kinds of people started ditching their toys. Boats, RVs, planes. Sam and I got a really good deal on it.”

“But you get motion sickness,” I felt compelled to point out.

“It’s the strangest thing,” she mused. “I don’t have any symptoms if I’m the one in control.”

Because of my profession, I knew a little about light aircraft. The Cessna 172 Skyhawk was one of the most popular personal planes in the world. I also knew they weren’t exactly cheap. I was curious how much of a deal Sam and Anissa had actually gotten. Plus, there were hangar costs to consider. Tie-down gear. Annual inspections. Insurance. Fuel. The dollar signs quickly accumulated in my mind.

“You wanna go up?” Anissa asked, interrupting my crude calculations.

I turned to her. “Really?”

“It’s the whole reason I brought you out here,” she admitted with a small shrug. “Hey, Jimmy,” she called out to a passing man in a baseball cap and coveralls. “Could you or one of the other guys tug my plane outside when you get the chance? I already submitted my flight plan, so we should be all set.”

The man—Jimmy—waved his acquiescence.

Anissa and I walked back outside and waited a few minutes while Jimmy and another man pulled Anissa’s plane out of the hangar. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned against the corrugated metal siding and silently watched while two men tugged the small plane into position.

“You look nervous,” Anissa observed.

“I’ve never been in a plane that small,” I