Home > A Christmas in the Alps(6)

A Christmas in the Alps(6)
Author: Melody Carlson

“Or add a scarf.” Andrea slung a paisley scarf around Simone’s neck. “This one really looks great with your green eyes.”

Simone tried to peek at the price tag, but for the umpteenth time, Andrea stopped her. “For once in your life, could you just not worry about the cost? You can afford it, Simone. And you deserve it.”

Before she could protest, Andrea took the scarf and put it on the growing pile of “must-haves.”

“I don’t want to get too much,” Simone reminded them. “I know there are limits to what you can carry on a plane.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be checking a bag,” Andrea assured her. “Which reminds me, we still need to find you some luggage.”

“You should check out Matilda’s,” Clive told Simone. “It’s a few stores down. They have some really cool travel pieces that I think you’d like.”

By midafternoon, both Simone and Andrea were over shopping. “We really did shop till we dropped,” Andrea said as they piled bags and boxes in the back of her minivan. “But you’re definitely set for your trip now.”

“My trip,” Simone muttered as she got in the van. In the fun of shopping, she’d nearly forgotten the traveling part . . . and that it involved flying.

“Five days from now you’ll be on your way,” Andrea told her as she started the engine.

“Five days.” Simone swallowed hard.

“Did you look at that workbook last night?”

“I read the whole first section. I even practiced the deep breathing relaxation technique.”

“And?”

“And then I fell asleep.”

Andrea laughed. “Well, then it must work.”

Simone sighed. “Hopefully.” But as they drove back home, she wasn’t so sure. She still remembered the photos of the small twisted and charred plane that Grandpa and his buddy Owen had gone down in. The pictures were so ghastly that she wouldn’t even let Grandma see them. So horrible . . . so tragic . . . so unforgettable.

 

The next few days zipped by. And every time Simone considered canceling the trip, Andrea always seemed to be nearby, ready to talk her down, literally holding her hand at times, and even doing workbook exercises with her. Finally, she persuaded Simone this was the right thing to do. Simone owed it to Great-Grandmamma Simone Sophia—the woman who shared her name—to see this thing through.

So it was with that thought in mind that Simone found herself at a boarding gate in LAX, waiting for a flight to Seattle. Dressed in a chic pair of jeans and stylish boots topped with a cool embroidered coat-style cardigan and knotted scarf, Simone just wished she felt as confident as she looked. The dog-eared workbook tucked into her tapestry carry-on bag had a section called “Fake It till You Make It.” That was what she was trying to do today. Act like she was an experienced flyer with no anxiety, fear, or white-knuckled panic.

But when it was time to board the plane, her chest pounded so hard that she worried it could be a heart attack. She’d read about that in the workbook. “A panic attack can imitate a heart attack.” So she knew she shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t take it seriously. Just breathe and try to act composed. Fake it till you make it. When the flight attendant smiled and greeted her, Simone imitated the woman, greeting her back.

“Have a good flight,” the attendant called out as Simone passed.

I am safe, I am fine, Simone repeated silently to herself as she made her way to her seat near the back of the plane, which, according to Andrea, was the safest place to sit in the unlikely event of a plane wreck.

Don’t think about plane wrecks, she reminded herself. I am safe, I am fine. She shoved her tapestry bag into the hold above her row then slid past the seats, right next to the window where she fastened and tightened her seat belt. It had been Andrea’s idea to have a window seat. “Less claustrophobic,” she’d promised. But suddenly the idea of looking out and seeing the world so far below felt terrifying. Keep your eyes closed, she told herself. And pray. Pray, pray, pray.

So that is what she did. She could hear people moving about, stowing luggage, getting into their seats, but she kept her eyes tightly closed—breathing deeply. Hopefully other passengers would assume she was asleep. If only!

After what felt like hours, announcements were made, and the plane began to move. Still, Simone kept her eyes closed—and continued to pray. Only now she was praying that she wasn’t about to have a real heart attack and need to be hauled out on a stretcher. Although being removed, even laid out on a gurney, suddenly felt preferable to dying in a plane crash. Please, God, help me!

 

 

Chapter 4


THE FLIGHT TO SEATTLE had to be the longest two and a half hours of Simone’s entire life. It felt more like two and a half weeks! Despite closing her eyes after a frightening glance down during takeoff that nearly paralyzed her, and despite deep breathing, sincerely praying, and silently chanting mantras, she was emotionally exhausted by the time she stumbled down the ramp away from the plane. It was all she could do not to fall on her knees and kiss the floor of SeaTac air terminal once she got inside. But now what?

As humiliating as it would be to call Andrea and confess this was way too much for her, Simone wanted to pull the plug. Faking it wasn’t making it. She was done with the charade. A bus ride back to LA wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than this.

Looking for a quiet place to sit and make the awkward phone call to Andrea, Simone marveled at how calm and even happy the other travelers appeared. Apparently, none of them were the least bit concerned about bursting into flames and plummeting from the sky. She found a deserted gate, sat down, and pulled out her phone. Without even allowing Andrea to ask how she was doing, Simone poured out her story.

“I can’t do this. I’m coming home,” she finally sobbed. “It’s too hard.”

“Take a slow deep breath,” Andrea said calmly. “Listen to me. You can do this, Simone. It wasn’t easy, but you made it safely to Seattle, and you’ll make it safely to Paris. And when you get to Paris and then on to Avre, you’re going to thank me for this.”

“I am not—”

“Shh! Listen to me. Look at your carry-on bag, okay? See the pocket on the side of it? Open that up and you’ll see a little ziplock with—”

“What are you saying? Did you stash drugs in my bag?” Simone felt her anxiety rise again.

“No, not drugs, silly. It’s just chocolate laced with some perfectly safe natural herbs that will help you relax. I was going to tell you about it before your Seattle flight, but the girls distracted me.”

Simone opened the pocket to see several squares of harmless-looking chocolate. “Okay, I found the stash, but I don’t think that’s going to do it for me.”

“It will work. I promise you. I used it a few times after the girls were born when I was having some postpartum anxiety.”

“You had postpartum anxiety?” Simone felt bad. “I never knew that.”

“Yeah, well, you were up in Sacramento then. And it wasn’t like I told everyone about it. But those little chocolates really helped to calm me down. They’re perfectly safe. The only side effect is they might make you sleepy. But if you’re really suffering anxiety, they will probably just calm you down.”

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