Page 106 of Here One Moment

“That’s funny,” says Allegra. “I’d say the same if someone asked me that question: Pilot.”

She closes her eyes to enjoy the sun on her face. Mindfulness! Gratitude! Ward off that depression before it takes her down.

She opens her eyes and realizes Jonny is looking at her.

“Allegra,” he says. “Did you hear what you just said?” The sunlight bounces off his dark glasses. He’s too good-looking in sunglasses. It’s a bit much.

For a moment she’s confused, but then she gets it. “Oh, no, don’t worry, I don’t secretly dream of being a pilot. Absolutely not.”

“Why would I worry?”

“Come on, let’s keep going.” She indicates the path, mildly irritable. She doesn’t really want to be a pilot. Does she? Why did those words come out of her mouth? In front of an actual pilot? It’s not like it’s a secret dream of hers. It’s certainly not a conscious dream.

He says, “Have you ever done a trial flight?”

“No, no,” she says. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s not like you with your brother. It was like saying if I could choose anything in the world I’d be a rock star.”

“You could be a rock star,” he says. “You would be a very sexy rock star.”

“Funny. I can’t sing.”

“A lot of rock stars can’t sing, but, Allegra, you could be a pilot. Why is that not an option for you? Is it the money? Because there are programs—”

“I misspoke,” she interrupts. “I’m happy with my career. Very happy.”

He opens his palms in a gesture of surrender and she is relieved he is letting it go. Think before you speak, Allegra.

As they follow the coastline, Allegra sees the first security camera, the inward-leaning fence, the purpose-built phone booths that connect the caller directly to a counselor, another security camera, the billboards all trying to convey one message: Please don’t do it!

“And here we have one of our most popular suicide destinations,” she says with an outstretched arm, imitating his earlier tour-guide tone.

Jonny’s face falls. “Wait. You’re kidding. Is this The Gap? I didn’t realize that was here.” He scratches his jaw. “Maybe this wasn’t the best place to suggest for a walk.”

“You mean because of the prediction?” asks Allegra. “Do you think you’ll put ideas in my head? Make it too convenient for me to ‘self-harm’?”

He pushes his glasses up on his forehead so now his hair sticks up and he no longer looks like a movie star, just a mildly sweaty worried guy. She can imagine him in high school, one of those good-looking, well-behaved, a-little-bit-pleased-with-themselves boys, the kind who were always so surprised and abashed to find themselves in trouble. The kind the teachers always let off.

She says, “Don’t panic, Jonny, I’m not going to make a run for it.”

“I’d catch you,” says Jonny gravely, and he grips the base of her ponytail, close to her scalp. Tight enough so it’s firm but doesn’t hurt. It’s one of his moves in bed. He uses it to quite devastating effect.

“I’m a runner now,” Allegra reminds him, with a quiver in her voice, and he knows what the quiver means. “Jay says I’m crushing it.”

“What does Jay know?” Jonny’s jealousy of Allegra’s virtual treadmill trainer is an ongoing joke.

He drops his hand. “There haven’t been any more deaths, have there?”

“No,” says Allegra.

“And management was okay?”

“All fine in the end,” Allegra says. “The captain said he knew all about it because we’d discussed it after the flight and he hadn’t considered it significant. Nobody’s safety compromised. Just one of those odd things that can happen.”

“Vic is a good guy,” says Jonny.

Trina had admitted she wouldn’t have been so concerned by the incident if not for the fact that the lady’s predictions were now coming true. Then she asked, “Did you get a prediction, Allegra?”

When Allegra told her, Trina said, “Good grief! So wait…you’re twenty-eight now, right? That’s a terrible thing for someone to say to you. That must have been so distressing! If you need anything from us, in terms of support, or, uh, you know, counseling—I mean, it’s not real, obviously, but we take mental health seriously, so…”

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