AIR by Nadia Giordana

Dayton, Minnesota

Image by Dream Studio

FICTION 1384 words

By Nadia Giordana

Title: AIR

Nearly inseparable, Julie and her younger sister, Emma, graduated from Berkeley a year apart and have remained sister-besties ever since. Today, all eyes are focused on Emma. Julie sat back and watched her open a brightly wrapped package. She thought that baby showers are always such fun, especially when we can shop for gender-specific gifts, eyes glazed over. I’m not ready for this kind of thing, but it will be unforgettable when it comes.

“What are you thinking about, Julie?” Her mother asked, smiling. “Head in the clouds somewhere? Come back with the rest of us and join the fun.” Just then, somebody passed the instructions for yet another silly game.

“Sorry, Mom. I was thinking about work stuff.” Julie grinned.

***

Fast-forward several months:

Julie was over-the-moon ecstatic when Frank asked her to marry him. It was early October, and they were attending the “San Francisco Fleet Week” air show. Around noontime, they staked out a picnic table before they were all snapped up and laid out their private luncheon in honor of “Italian Heritage Days,” also happening on the same weekend. Their repast included two of Julie’s favorite cured meats, prosciutto, capicola, and soft, creamy cheeses, burrata, and gorgonzola—all to be eaten with a loaf of fresh-baked Italian bread. Spread across a red-checkered tablecloth, their sumptuous meal turned the heads of more than a few onlookers. They completed the meal with Bell’agio Banfi Chianti (the kind with the straw basket woven around the bottle). “It’s not expensive, but decent and ever so much fun to pour,” Julie giggled. Suddenly, Frank grabbed her by the shoulders, kissed her, and pointed up into the sky as a biplane swooped into view, trailing a banner that said, “Marry me, Julie.”

“If I hadn’t already been sitting down, my knees would have buckled,” Julie would say to her friends whenever she recounted the proposal—especially when she told it to Emma.

Julie said yes on the spot, and Frank excitedly produced a ring box from his jacket pocket and offered her a gleaming, one-karat solitaire diamond ring.

He was perfect for her; he was witty and charming, and he had a job with a future as an airline mechanic working on the big planes at San Francisco International Airport. She’d met his family. No big surprises or turn-offs there, she thought. And she was confident her family would adore him when they got the chance to meet him. Julie and Frank had only known each other three months when he proposed, and while she supposed that was a little short, she couldn’t help thinking, When it’s right, it’s right. It was something her mother often said about a dozen different things, not just romance.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve:

Their families celebrated and planned the wedding, which would take place at this venue six months later. Their party included Julie’s mother and stepfather, her older brother and younger half-sister Emma, Frank, his parents, and his twin brother Stanley (fraternal). Both families had booked rooms and were all in a festive mood. Champagne flowed. Frank and Julie mixed and socialized with everyone as they always did when they were out.

Four French doors draped in white gauze curtains flanked the vast ballroom dance floor, offering access to intimate balconies overlooking San Francisco Bay. All were left open on this unseasonably warm January evening.

Julie looked around as the clock struck midnight and the fireworks got underway. Boom! Pop, pop, pop. Whirr, crackle, fizz. She searched for Frank, hoping to ring in the New Year with his lips on hers. He wasn’t on the dance floor, so she began checking the balconies—no luck, as she poked her head into one after another. At the third one down from the orchestra, she peeked in and smiled as a couple, clearly enamored of each other, kissed passionately to the strains of “Auld Lang Syne.” Her gaze lingered; Frank and I don’t kiss like that, she thought wistfully; he’s much more down-to-earth.

But there was something familiar about the silhouettes, and as her eyes adjusted and fireworks lit their faces, her heart stopped. It was her sister Emma and Frank!

She squared her shoulders and stepped out into the half-light of the tiled platform. “I see you two are getting acquainted. Have you made your resolutions yet? Would you like to guess mine?”

Frank’s Story:

I love Julie, I do. I couldn’t have known this would happen, Frank thought as he sat alone in his hotel room, ruminating over the events leading up to the disaster of last evening. Just then, his brother Stanley cautiously sticks his head into the room. “Can we talk? What the hell was that last night? Everyone is expecting an explanation. Except for Julie, she’s gone home broken-hearted. Her family left, too.”

“Thanks, Stan; yes, I need to get this off my chest, although I don’t think it will help much. My story with Emma goes back three years. We had a whirlwind, once-in-a-lifetime romance. I met her on a parachute jump at “Skydive Santa Barbara.” We only spent one day together. But in that short time, we fell head-over-heels, knowing nothing more about each other except for our love of jumping out of planes. It was all we talked about. Then, as we were coming in from the third and final jump of the day, Emma was approached by the police. They walked out onto the field to meet her. I was far behind her, not close enough to pick up more than two words, “friend” and “killed.” Emma was visibly upset as they escorted her away, sobbing. I called out after her, “Emma, Emma, wait! I don’t know how to reach you. My last name is Smith. What is yours?” but she was oblivious. I spent the rest of the next week trying to find her, but I didn’t have enough information. We thought we would have more time to plan and get to know each other. That was irresponsible, but we weren’t thinking about that then. I can’t say it was love, not in such a short time, but attraction and passion? Oh yes.”

“Then, when I saw her again last night at the party, I was speechless, as was she. I could see it in her eyes, and I felt it in her trembling touch as we shook hands and gave each other a friendly, ‘introductory’ hug.”

“As you know, Stan,” Frank continues, “I’ve always been a bit of a ‘devil-may-care,’ kind of guy, but that’s a side of myself I’ve tried to outgrow and hide from Julie as much as I was able. Things are all messed up, and I don’t know what to do. I need to sort out my true feelings before things get worse.”

***

“I’m so confused and hurt, Mom. How could they do this to me?” Julie sobbed into her cell phone as she drove along the coast, headed for her apartment in San Diego.

“I don’t know, honey, I just don’t know,” her mother said. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. After you get settled in, c’mon over and stay the night with us. We can talk. Your sister and her husband won’t be here. She said they need time alone to talk. She is feeling awful too, but I haven’t had a chance to speak to her in detail.”

“Thanks, Mom. Okay, I will. See you tonight. I don’t want to see Emma right now.”

Julie clicked her phone off and drove on in silence, slipping deeper into despondency, staring at the road ahead—no radio, no music, alone with her thoughts until up ahead, she saw the curve, the overlook, the cliff, and the open air beyond. She thought of the final scene from the movie, Thelma and Louise, and stepped on the gas. Without flinching, Julie continued straight when the road turned. Hands gripping the wheel, past the barrier, three big bounces, and she felt free, as if she were flying or as if this were a roller coaster ride at Disneyland. Her stomach flip-flopped, and she squeezed her eyes tight, waiting for the ride to end as piercing regret shot through her consciousness.