Killing Me Softly (#Wattys2016)

TWO

TWO

All ten of Sondra's fingers were red, ragged messes. She'd been flying all day and night and, unable to smoke, had nearly chewed each digit to the bone. The pilot announced their initial descent into Chicago and if she could have parachuted in, she would have.

As the plane descended, Sondra flattened her forehead against the window of the plane, searching for the landscape of the city hidden beneath the white swell of clouds, frantic to land, to know...

Finally, the plane taxied to the gate and Sondra ripped her seatbelt from across her slender waist, waiting for the doors to open. The aisles filled with passengers hauling down luggage, turning on cell phones to check messages and chatting away about emails, business meetings and what restaurants they would dine at while visiting Chicago. Going on with their lives as normal.

Sondra went to turn her own phone back on, before remembering the battery died just as she boarded. She balled her hand into a fist and bit her knuckle in a futile attempt to give her decimated fingers a rest. She wondered how long it would take the air marshal to catch her if she tried to shove past all these people.

The traffic began to inch forward. The tip of Sondra's tongue caught the saltiness from the perspiration on her upper lip as she folded her lanky frame over the seat in front of her, waiting for her turn in line. Clutching her one carry-on bag, she shuffled her way into the aisle before finally reaching the door.

She tried to keep her cool as she went through customs. She kept a level gaze on the gate agent as he queried her about her time overseas and what she would be doing while in the U.S.

She had to force the tears to stay inside while answering him.

As soon as she was free of customs, she broke into a run, her smoker's lungs protesting the whole time. The soles of her flip-flops slapped against the shiny tile like lit firecrackers as the crowds of arrivals and departures parted once they heard her pound towards them. She knew her feet would freeze, but she didn't care. Tears stung Sondra's eyes and she swatted at them as if they were errant gnats buzzing around her face as she scanned the boards overhead for directions to ground transportation.

Panting, sweating, and nearly hacking up a lung, Sondra found the door leading to the taxis. The doors slid open and the blast of arctic air almost knocked her to the salt-stained sidewalk. Shivering in her thin sweatshirt, Sondra ran her trembling, blood-crusted fingers through her wavy, black tresses as she darted to the taxi stand. She hopped from one foot to the other to keep warm while she waited for yet another slow line to move forward. The fat black dispatcher, dwarfed beneath a dusty black down coat and furry earmuffs, gave her the once over.

"What happened to your coat, young lady? You know this is Chicago in January," he laughed, his breath billowing out from beneath jagged, yellow buckteeth to mock her.

Sondra ignored him and ran to the orange Wolley cab he indicated. She jumped in and gave the driver the address, blowing breath into her hands to revive them. She was about to fish out her cigarettes when she noticed the 'No Smoking' sign taped to the back of the seat. She groaned to herself and sat on her hands, rocking back and forth in a feeble attempt to keep herself calm.

The gray and grit of the city looked repulsive to her on this frigid afternoon. She didn't hear the low murmur of NPR-the universal radio station of cab drivers-as she stared unseeing out the window while smiling billboards sheathed under the sludge of winter, decaying buildings and grimy El trains hissed past her in a haze. After an eternity, the cab turned down her sister's North side street and came to a stop in front of her house. Sondra threw a wad of crumpled twenties at the driver and flung the door open, not bothering to close it. She didn't hear the cabbie yelling after her as she bounded up the front steps of the house and slammed herself against the door to make it open.

The first thing she heard was her mother's pained cries. The first thing she saw was her father's face, and the shake of his head.

Sondra's knees buckled and she crumpled into a pile on the gleaming hardwood floor.