Читать книгу Ailanthus - Antonio De Vito - Страница 8

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Stacie, leaving Annie still in Switzerland for the last paperwork, got the first flight to New York. She faced her plane trip in a state of agitation. She hadn’t plan to go back home alone. She didn’t even think that there by her side, for all those hours, she couldn’t squeeze Sam’s hand. Yet that was the way things were. Stacie would have hated that plane for the rest of her life.

The flight, though, was long and Stacie after one hour spent flipping through a couple magazines, of the ones that you can usually find on a plane, tried to relax slightly reclining the seat. It didn’t take long until she fell asleep. The captain of the plane’s voice, that kept repeating to the passengers about the weather conditions, the plane’s speed and many other information that were considered essential, cradled her. She was exhausted, and the glass of prosecco given to her just before by the hostess, gave her the final blow.

“Stacie, don’t move; I’ll come to you.”

“Sam, tell me that it was just a nightmare. I’m feeling awful. How can I get home by myself?” Stacie started to sweat again and the plane’s seat had almost completely stretched out horizontally. Stacie didn’t have control of her arms and legs anymore and couldn’t get back up. Big pearls of sweat continued to line her face down until wetting her hair, while her fingernails were marking the seat’s leather. Then she felt herself shaking repeatedly until, finally, she opened her eyes.

“Ma’am, are you feeling good? I’ve noticed that you’re really nervous and you’re sweating a lot.”

“You’re right. I’m not feeling good at all. Could you bring me a glass of water, please?”

Stacie had regained consciousness, but a feeling of angst was still inside her. That nightmare had shaken her and left a sense of inquietude because she couldn’t interpret the words that Sam had pronounced many times.

This time the shot was tough to absorb. Stacie already managed to take back her life in little time when Sam had gone away leaving her without a reason, but this time there was no pride or sense of payback to make her reaction trigger. This time a huge sense of void denied her the right of react.

The arrival in New York was a release. That flight had been terrible. Although she repeatedly tried, she couldn’t sleep a wink. As soon as she could, exhausted by the tiredness, the nightmares took over.

Maybe going back home would have helped her to start again. She didn’t even know what to expect because she was missing from many weeks now and she couldn’t predict how it would be to build up her life again for the second time.

Her apartment in Madison Street seemed more cold than usual. Her extended absence had contributed to make that place even more desolated. It wouldn’t be enough to buy some more cacti or change the curtains’ texture. That flat couldn’t do justice to the flow of feelings suffocated in Stacie’s soul and that only Sam, until then, could pull out.

She took her jacket off and went towards the pantry. She looked for the first bottle of red wine that came her way and, after uncorking it she literally dived into it with all her thoughts. She would have wanted to drown in it.

She woke up some hours later, more tired and woozy than before because of the wine she had drunk. She tried to get up, and although it was already night, she went to take a shower. She would have tried anything to wash away that hospital stink that she could smell on her skin. But it wouldn’t be enough diving into the water, because Stacie was carrying that smell inside.