Constance knew that one day, her brother would ask her to return their mother’s heart. She would have liked to have a little more notice. She would have liked to pack herself into a slim carry on. Carlton called her a week out from departure. A week already filled with getting the kids to camp and helping her office move into the renovated building. Constance inhaled, feeling the weight of all those moments that could have been organized better, and then she slowly let out her breath, remembering the relief that had come when her spouse Taylor said that she should just check her luggage.
“Welcome to JetSun, can I have your ID?” An attendant asked. All of them wore small blue pillbox hats perched in front of crisp hair buns. The hat on this attendantis wobbled when the attendant spoke.
Constance slid the documents over the counter.
“Have you flown with us before?” The attendant asked.
“Oh yes, but not for some time.”
After a few clicks and nods at Constance’s bag the attendant slid a small card across the desk to Constance. “Since it’s your first time flying with us in a bit, you may not recognize this,” the attendant—Carolina, according to her nametag—pointed to a few lines on the card with a pen. “It’s a simple check for emotional baggage, just list anything that might apply. We have some examples listed here,” she tapped some checkboxes with the pen. “Please note if any of your worries are with flying itself there is a box at the bottom of the form here,” she made a star next to the final checkbox and handed over the pen.
Constance kept her face neutral despite her confusion. This was a skill she used often, to hide her terror when talking about current events with her children, when talking with difficult clients, and especially when dealing with Carlton. She looked over the sheet Carolina had given her, remembering vaguely that airlines had passed a regulation to check emotional baggage to help manage space on airplanes. She didn’t know what that would mean when they announced it on the news along with other transportation guidelines.
Guilt. Leaving the family to pursue her own. Regret. Not getting out more when she was at university. Commitment Issues. There was no restaurant in town that was “hers” no matter how many lunches she went out to with clients. Fear. This flight, but not the flying. The reunion, the awkward smiles. Family stresses. Where to begin? Other. All?
Constance sighed and ticked the box for family stress. She shivered, remembering the night her mother promised her heart to Constance instead of her brother Carlton. She handed the card back to Carolina who stuck it into a slot of her computer, which in turn buzzed for a second. The sound was mechanical and physical, something Constance thought had been lost in the era of the “cloud”.
“All right, with that all your baggage has been checked,” Carolina handed Constance her boarding pass, “Security is through there on either side. You will board at gate D7. Thank you for flying JetSun!” She said and dismissed Constance with a smile.
Constance felt lighter as she left for security without the suitcase. She thought about her mother ’s last words, spoken only to her. Carlton hasn’t done his duty as a son, why should he take it? The heart is yours.,
Crystal hearts were meant to be passed on to spouses or oldest children, a. token symbolizing the head of the family. Two weeks after her mother’s passing a small box appeared in Constance’s mailbox. The words “from Mom” were written on the lid in her familiar slanted script and inside the box rested, her mother’s shimmering crystalline heart. Normally, these thoughts would take control of Constance’s breathing, making her feel caged in, but this time she reflected on the memory freely.
The airport’s marketplace sparkled and sprawled as Constance made her way to the gate. A quick-service coffee chain was the one stall that managed to pull her in. Condensation blurred the name on the outside of her iced latte. She sipped the sweetness until she reached the correct terminal, tossed the cup, used the restroom, and found a seat near the gate. The velvet box that contained her mother’s crystalline heart rolled around her purse.
Finally, Constance offered the attendant her boarding pass.
“Ms. Sánchez, thank you!” The attendant nodded, her pillbox hat staying firmly put as she passed Constance back her boarding pass and a smile.
Constance filed down the jetway. The airport seemed to constantly be under construction, but the jetway was the same grey prism it had been on her last flight years ago, and every flight before that.
A child was sitting in the seat next to Constance’s. She double checked her ticket, but no, this was the right aisle. A child! She didn’t hate children and had a deep distrust of the adults she encountered who did. But why was this child alone? Constance was about to ask that question, when she saw a small set of wings pinned to the front of the girl’s glittery pink t-shirt that proclaimed her as an Unaccompanied Minor. Constance always assumed that they would put all the kids together on a plane, to keep a better eye on them, but the only other kids she saw were unquestionably accompanied. With a sigh she sat down. The girl, who had been watching the aircraft workers load on luggage, turned towards Constance.
“Hi, I’m Simone!” she said, then looked back outside, pointing out things to the neon green stuffed snake she held up to the window.
The aisle seat was taken by a grey-haired man in business casual who gave Constance a nod and immediately went to sleep. The plane filled, the doors closed, the flight attendants gave the safety presentation. As the plane taxied towards the runway Constance looked over the safety information pamphlet. She could see Simone looking over it as well and noted how comfortable the young girl seemed on the plane. She had a small pack under the seat in front of her and seemed perfectly content to look out the window as the plane started to make its ascent.
The plane found its sweet spot at 35,000 feet and Constance reached under the seat to grab a notebook out of her purse. As her hand reached blindly into the bag it brushed the velvet box. A cold sweat engulfed Constance, and suddenly the rattling of the plane’s vibration seemed too much to handle. She inhaled deeply, snatched her notebook, and sat back in her seat.
“You forgot to check fear,” a small, self-assured voice, piped up on Constance’s right. Simone looked up from her portable game system, “You have to check all your baggage on the card they give you. I check family issues, fear, and other. I fly every other month to see my dad, he and my mom got divorced when I was little, and I’m afraid of snakes.”
Constance opened her mouth then closed it. Then she opened it again. “Wait, if you’re afraid of snakes why do you have one on your lap?” she asked dumbly, trying to focus on something that wasn’t the box with the heart, or the plane getting closer to her brother. Her heart pounded in her ears.
“William Wiggles is NOT the same.” Simone hugged her neon green snake closer.
Constance shrugged and placed her notebook on the tray table. She inhaled, and pushed away the uneasiness in her stomach. The office was going to have a party to celebrate the renovations and she took charge of planning it. She started to sort through a list of restaurant requests, crossing out ideas that wouldn’t work with the list of dietary restrictions.
“So, what did you mark down?” Simone had abandoned her game.
How did you tell a stranger’s kid it wasn’t polite to ask about personal things? Her spouse took care of taking the kids to basketball practice and school events, so Constance rarely interacted with kids who weren’t hers.
Simone was still looking at her.
“I have some family issues too, so I marked that on my card, I thought it would be enough.” She turned back to her notebook, tapping the pen without writing anything. “Where are you going?” Simone asked, “I’m not getting off at the next stop. I’m going all the way to Phoenix!”
Constance looked back at Simone, unclear why she was still talking. Did schools not teach “Stranger Danger” anymore? She would have to check with Zoe and Nathan. She didn’t want them to give strangers their whole itinerary if they ever ended up travelling alone.
“I’m going to visit my brother in California.”
“Are you scared of him?”
“No, he’s my brother, why would I be scared of him?” Constance looked up from the web of restaurants and employees in her notebook.
“You’re scared of something,” Simone said plainly. “I saw it when you stuck your hand in that bag!”
Constance shook her head, “It was nothing.”
She turned back to the notebook and tried hard to ignore Simone. The girl had taken to watching Constance from behind her book. Constance recognized the book as one that Carlton read to her when the two of them were kids.
Even as kids, Constance and her brother had argued about their mother’s crystal heart. Carlton long coveted the fact that he was the older child and that it would certainly be passed down to him. Constance would quiet him, telling him off for even thinking of their dear mother’s death. She never wanted Carlton to have it, yet here she was making a beeline to give it to him. Taylor hadn’t stopped Constance from going, but she knew Taylor thought Constance should keep it herself. What would she do with a crystal heart besides keep it from her brother?
The drink cart trundled down the aisle. A flight attendant preceded it, handing out single serve cookie packets. Constance noticed Simone got two but figured it would be a little rude to ask the attendant if she could as well.
Simone ordered a ginger ale and Constance a tomato juice. The man next to Constance was still asleep, so the attendants passed him by. The tomato juice came in a can which Constance poured over ice the attendant had offered. She didn’t know the last time she drank tomato juice besides the occasional Bloody Mary. The tepid juice mixed with the ice, confused her tongue.
“You’re going to surprise your brother! He doesn’t know you’re coming!” Simone guessed.
It was the kind of assumption that came from a child that she couldn’t help but correct, because it wasn’t accurate, “No, he knows I’m coming.”
“I never had a brother. My friend Jean has a brother. He stole her lucky rock! He likes putting rocks in our shoes too. Is your brother mean like that? Is that why you’re scared?”
Constance huffed. “Sometimes a person doesn’t want to share everything, and that’s okay,” she snapped. Her one flight in five years would be like this. “Apparently no one ever told you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
Simone’s eyes widened and her lips started to wobble. Did she go too far? Constance thought to say something, to walk herself back a bit, when the plane started to stutter. Simone’s ginger ale spilled a few drops and Constance handed her some napkins, a meager offering after snapping at her. The captain made a crackly comment overhead, that was supposed to be the only turbulence so the seatbelt light would remain off.
The man next to Constance grumbled about not being able to get back to sleep to no one in particular. He leaned forward, grabbing a tablet from his bag. Constance saw her chance and scrambled to unbuckle her seatbelt.
“Sir, could you let me by?” The man mumbled out a “yes” and Constance made her way to the—blessedly empty—rear toilet.
The lights flickered on as she slid the door shut. The woman in the mirror appeared a husk of her true self. It had been five hours since she kissed her spouse goodbye and entered the airport. Seven hours since she waved bye to the kids and the babysitter. Two hours left on the flight. One crystal heart that never felt like it was hers to keep.
She used one hand to turn on the water and the other to splash her face. The paper towel she used to dry her face started to dissolve and stick. The face mask that was sitting unused in her purse would never do her wrong like that, Constance was sure. She hurried to pick off the paper bits, washed her hands, and stepped back out. She shuffled back to her bench and slid back into the seat. Simone was pressed up against the wall of the plane, headphones in, pointedly looking away from Constance.
An apology languished in Constance’s throat. She collected her notebook and shoved it back into her bag. She picked up the small box and leaned back into her seat. She kept it close to her, stroking the scratchy velvet.
The plane continued its surge through the sky, humming like a beast. The attendants came back around to pick up trash and hand Simone another packet of cookies. The sun started to dip in the sky, shooting rays through the porthole windows. She thought of her mother’s last summer. Care of their mother, of the funeral, and everything else fell to Constance. Carlton weaseled his way out of any real responsibilities. No, he wouldn’t get the heart from Constance. Screw plans, screw coming to California when Carlton called. She didn’t know what she would do when she landed, but tradition be damned, this heart was hers.
She unlatched the box and pulled out the heart. It hung on a thin chain. With trembling fingers, she managed to clasp the chain around her neck. The gem was cool on her chest. It didn’t matter what Carlton thought, their mother gave her heart to Constance, not him.
The pilot made another crackly announcement, the plane was starting the descent. Constance folded her tray table up and tucked the velvet box back into her bag. Simone looked out the window. Constance peered out, careful to give the girl some space, though there wasn’t so much room.
Under the plane was a vast expanse of blue cut up with the white of the waves. Specks of color dotted the shore, umbrellas and beach towels, and seaside restaurants. The piers jutted out into the water, so small from the sky.
“I always wish I could get off here,” Simone said so quietly Constance wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or her stuffed snake. “I want to find buried treasure, but I don’t think there’s any in Arizona.”
Constance reached into her purse, bracing herself as the plane carved out a turn in the sky. She was planning to give her brother a chocolate bar from one of the specialty stores in Pike Place Market, but she tired of giving him things just because he was her brother.
“It isn’t buried treasure, but here’s this.” Constance handed over the chocolate bar. Simone nodded, without actually giving thanks, and the two of them kept looking out the window at the waves and the sand, until the plane turned. Then all they could see was the long black strips of road and runway cutting up the Earth.