Page 21 of In Flight

There’s no one in the seat beside her, so I reach over to lift up the armrest to give her more room. I raise her empty tray table and secure it and then reach over to lower the one beside her.

Isaac has returned with a ginger ale, so I set it on the tray beside her. “When you’re ready, try a few sips of that.”

She reaches for the drink, her hand shaking so much I’m afraid she’ll spill it, but she doesn’t. She dutifully takes three sips and then sets it back down.

The flight attendant has come over and is having a murmured conversation with Isaac.

“I think she needs to know if you need help,” I explain when the lady squints up like she’s trying to hear what they’re saying. “If it’s an emergency, the crew will need to do something.”

“Oh no,” the lady says. “It’s not an emergency. I’m just kind of shaky. I thought I was doing okay, but then I got really scared. Then I got shaky. Then I thought if I didn’t get out of here soon I might pass out. Then you came over here and gave me a ginger ale.”

I smile at her and pat her arm, then stand up. “I think it’s just a panic attack. She says she doesn’t need any help.”

The flight attendant leans over toward the lady with a smile. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The lady leans back as if the friendly flight attendant is too close. “I’m okay. I’ll just talk to this nice pretty girl a few more minutes if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” I nod at the flight attendant, who backs off, much to the lady’s visible relief. My thighs are hurting from squatting, and I’m about to suggest I climb into the seat beside her when Isaac touches my arm.

He’s moved into my seat so I can sit in his.

That works much better. I can turn sideways and talk to the lady more comfortably.

Since some distraction might help, I ask her about the passages in the Bible she’s been reading. She’s still shaky as she explains the Psalm she’s been meditating over.

My family was never religious. At all. But as she’s talking, she starts quoting words that are familiar to me.

“Oh, that’s that song, isn’t it? ‘Amazing Grace’?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s right, dear.” She reaches over to take my hand, and I let her. She holds my hand as she begins to sing the words in an uneven, wavery voice.

I sing with her—softly so I don’t disturb the people around us too much. But surely they’ll understand. This poor lady needs comfort and assurance, and this song and the faith it expresses to her can give her that.

I don’t know all the words of the additional verses, but she speaks them to me and helps me learn them so we can sing all the verses. Ridiculously, I get emotional and tear up slightly toward the end.

By the time we finish the final verse, the plane is descending. I keep holding her hand until we’re on the ground.

“Thank you, dear. You’re good to an old woman. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.” She already sounds better. Stronger. More like herself.

“We can’t help when we fall apart, so you can fall apart on me. I fall apart sometimes too, and it’s nice for someone to be there.”

“Well, your young man will want to be that person for you,” she says, nodding past me toward Isaac, who has been working quietly on his laptop this whole time.

“Oh no, ma’am, he’s not my young man. I don’t even know him very well.”

“Of course you do.” She pats my hand with a smile. “Or you will.”

I glance back, but Isaac is fortunately not paying attention. I smile and let the topic drop, although it unsettles me for some reason.

When the rest of the passengers get off, I help the lady make it through the aisle and down the ramp. The crew already called ahead, and a buggy is waiting so she can get a ride instead of walking through the airport.

We say goodbye, and she blesses me. I wave as she rides away.

Isaac is still beside me. I meet his eyes, weirdly self-conscious.

“You were really good with her,” he says, his expression unusually sober.

I shrug off the compliment the way I always do. “She just needed someone to talk to.”

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