The Lost Year

  Candy Castle

  Middle of Nowhere

  It all started right after we left Miami International Airport and had reached our cruising altitude of thirty-two thousand feet.

  “Come here, my furbaby.” Vive had taken her Lhaso Apso, Hedda Hopper, out of the carrying bag. She placed the pooch on her lap and did as she always does, gave it a sip of her cocktail, “Here you go, my little Hedda.”

  Even though we weren’t yet twenty-one, Vive pretty much had booze on her at all times. Those are the perks of being a Farnworth Firewater liquor heiress. Vive’s family had stated on many occasions that she could legally drink in other countries and time zones why not this one?

  Growling, Hedda glared up at the ceiling.

  “Look guys! Le Petit Chien doesn’t care for champagne,” Gustave had joked, when the boys turned around to see what was going on.

  On the rare occasions Gustave did make eye contact with me, I melted from the inside out—Klondike-bar style.

  The dog spun around in circles. Not the playful, fun-loving kind. Oh no. Rather in the demonic way of “there’s a ghost onboard that’s going to eat us.” Hedda’s growls turned to barking. We all glanced up at the ceiling to see what the fuss was over.

  I expected a dancing light coming off a mirrored cosmetics compact, or maybe a bug that had crawled out from someone’s luggage. I didn’t notice anything except the ceiling…

  Bang!

  “Merde,” Fabian shouted.

  A two-inch rip.

  Vive’s dog sensed this would happen. I didn’t know which I was more freaked out over, Hedda’s psychic ability or the fact that there was a hole in the roof of our plane. Let me say that again, there’s a hole in the effin’ aircraft.

  The tear widened to a foot.

  “Fuuuck. Did you see that?” Blake shouted as other passengers got out of their seats making their way over.

  A foot and a half of blue skies stared back at us. Then two frickin’ feet of sunshine beamed through.

  Pandemonium spread on board.

  Immediately, our cabin’s pressure decompressed. I couldn’t breathe. Not because we lost air—we did—but because my stomach flipped into my throat.

  The seatbelt signs flashed. Oxygen masks fell from above.

  Lex grabbed my hand. “I regret taking the Xanax to get over my fear of riding on small planes. I feel like everything is going on in slow motion or if I’m watching it happen to someone else.”

  “Well, snap out of it,” I said putting the oxygen mask over her face. “It’s happening right above your seat.”

  It’s just like that teen horror movie that came out last year, Final Destination. We started to drop from the sky. Everyone screamed.

  The pilot announced, “This is your captain speaking. Due to an unforeseen rip in the ceiling, we are making an emergency landing. Listen carefully to my instructions…”

  A pause was followed by what sounded like the turning of a piece of paper. Was he reading from some manual?

  He continued, “Under your seat is a life jacket. Go ahead, put it on, fasten your seatbelt, lean forward, and stick your head between your knees. We’ll be landing shortly.” His phone switched off, then back on, and he muttered, “—fucking shit plane. Flight crew, prepare for a water crash. Let’s see if we can take her down in one piece.”

  Frozen, we sat still for a second. Clearly, we weren’t supposed to hear that.

  “Did he say water landing or water crash?” Vive sobered.

  “Crash!” Blake shouted, springing to his feet. He flipped his seat cushion over and grabbed the bright yellow reflective plastic.

  Next to me, Lex peed herself. Maybe over the realization we might die. Or it could be from the two Yoo-Hoos she drank before take-off to help wash down the bitter aftertaste of Xanax.

  Lately, our lives as the Fab Four had pretty much carried on rather most unfabulously. Take for example the fact that I was broke, probably not going to attend college, sexually frustrated, and let’s not forget this flight to hell.

  Gustave jumped over his seat and into our row. Helping Vive and Lex with their life jackets, he lifted Lex up as if she were a paper doll, which I imagine was pretty hard to do considering she’s rather curvy. After he was finished, I made sure their oxygen masks were over their faces.

  My ears popped, and the engines made a loud humming noise. That sorta zinged me back a bit. Putting my vest on, I then banded the yellow plastic cup over my nose and mouth and inhaled. With a glance out the window, I noticed we were headed straight for a small island. The sign in the harbor read, “Welcome to Eden.” I blinked, we were that close to land we could read things.

  Shit.

  Blake’s movie star face pressed up against the yellow plastic and muttered, “Looks like Magic Kingdom.”

  There was a castle on the island. In a flash, we soared right over Eden and headed back out to sea.

  We buckled up. Blake shouted for everyone to sit. Jumping over the row, Gustave hunkered down. Fabian reached back for a hand, anyone’s—it didn’t matter whose. Tucking Hedda into the top of her dress, Vive grabbed onto Fabian then reached for Lex’s hand with the other. Lex grabbed my right, and I took Blake with my left. He put his hand on Gustave’s shoulder ahead of him, and Leon held on to Fabian.

  Our prayer circle had formed.

  “Notre Père—” Leon recited something in French, sounding Catholic.

  Reflecting off the water, the sun’s rays made everything appear overexposed and translucent. Hues of pink and bright white filled the cabin. The jet seemed to skim above the ocean almost peacefully.

  The plane’s heavy swaying straightened into a precise line. There was a moment of beauty where everyone on board must’ve held their breath because I heard only dead silence and Leon.

  “Pardonne-nous nos offences.” His prayer got louder.

  “This is it. Lean forward,” Fabian told us.

  We put our heads between our legs. Fuck, the oxygen masks weren’t long enough. The cords jerked us back.

  “Is this seriously happening?” dazed and still frickin’ confused, Lex asked.

  The jet bounced, once, twice over the water like a skipping stone. My seat disconnected from the rest of the row. The impact shocked me. Over the sounds of shattering glass and the crunching of metal, I blurted the first thing that came to mind, “I never thought I’d die a virgin.” I’d hoped to be loved by someone special.

  Then we went back up in the air as if God had heard our prayers. The engine roared. The gash in the ceiling quadrupled. It was a flipping convertible. Debris flew everywhere. I could barely see but noticed items being sucked out.

  First a roller bag flew out the hole. Smacking the edges, it tore the gap wider.

  Then a few extra life vests followed.

  Suddenly the aircraft started to make a sharp turn.

  “What’s the pilot doing?” I asked Blake, trying to see out the window.

  “Landing on the water near the island.”

  We climbed higher in the air. People shouted at each other to stay seated.

  “Je vous aime, les gars,” Fabian professed his feelings for his buds as if it was the end.

  The sun which had been on our left now shined on the right.

  Without warning, Vive removed her mask. Leaning down, she kissed Hedda behind the ears and gave the dog her oxygen. In Vive’s eyes, I didn’t see fear as I expected. She unbuckled her seatbelt and handed Hedda to Lex.

  Did Vive want to die?

  Lex threw her arms over Vive, trying to get her to buckle up as Vive screamed she wanted to go.

  Go where exactly?

  “Taddy!” Blake shouted as the wing next to his seat caught fire. The window melted. We were going to burn.

  My detached seat gave. The jet continued to climb. “Lex!” Like a vacuum I was sucked out that damn hole.

  Someone grabbed my ankle.

  That was the last thing I remembered.

  Did I die? I must
’ve.

  Next thing I knew I was back on West 74th St. and Central Park West. I was home with my parents at the San Remo apartment building. Maybe five years old or so. This was a happier time for my family and me. No fighting. No DNA test. Dad didn’t have doubts as to who I was other than his daughter.

  Sitting on the floor in the den, I wore a crimson dress, one of my favorites. Mom had made it for me.

  Dad and Mom sat across from Lex and me.

  Lex and her parents had lived in the apartment building too. So did Donna Karan and Steven Spielberg.

  Lex chewed on a piece of gum and studied the board game. She’d been staying with me while her parents filmed a rocker movie in Los Angeles for the last month.

  We played a second round of Candy Land.

  “Daddy it’s your turn to go.” Pointing to the deck of cards, I realized my speech was childlike but, in my head, I thought as an adult.

  Glancing around the oak-paneled room in awe, I’d forgotten how much Mom had decorated the place back then. She’d cared how the place looked. How we’d lived as a family.

  We’d often had people over. They’d entertained, celebrated life and living here. My parents had truly loved each other back then. Till all the lies floated to the surface and shattered everything I once knew, including who I was and where I’d come from.

  “Alright, Tabitha,” Dad smiled at me warmly. He drew an orange card and moved his gingerbread piece to the corresponding spot.

  “My turn,” I said, noticing I was close to the Candy Castle. I pulled a card. “Pink!”

  Lex popped her bubblegum and said, “You move to the lollipop forest.” She clapped her hands with excitement.

  I pushed my gingerbread figure past the chocolate mountains. The game was all based on chance. There were no puzzles to solve. No player was better than the other. The deck of cards dictated every move.

  Looking back on it now, in a way, Candy Land played the players. All we had to do was show up and follow along. If only adult life were this simple.

  “Looks like you may win the second round, Tabitha,” my mother encouraged. With a petite nose and high cheekbones, her facial features were striking. That was before Mom’s ugliness showed, before her mental illness and booze took over.

  “Anyone can win, Mommy. You’re up next.”

  She paused for a minute. “How about for Halloween we make you a Princess Lolly costume?” Mom reached across for a card. “I’ll sew it myself.”

  Lex glared at me as if she was being left out. Her mother, a music icon, never had time to play dress-up with us unless it was on stage or for one of her music videos.

  “Will you make Lex a Queen Frostine costume? Then we can go together.” I looked out for my bestie even when we were kids.

  “I don’t see why not.” Mom glanced over at Lex and asked, “Is that what you want, Alexandra?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good, then it’s all settled. Tabitha will go as Princess Lolly in red. Alexandra can be Queen Frostine. Oh…I have just the icy blue fabric for it too. We’re going to have one sweet Halloween, girls.”

  “Yay!” Lex and I got to our feet and jumped around, cheering to the idea of our new costumes.

  The crystal chandelier above us shook.

  Any second now I expected Mrs. Yves Bucheron to come up the penthouse elevator in a snit yapping for us to stop making noise. Lex and I were always getting in trouble. This building wasn’t made for kids or any type of excitement.

  “I’ll start on the dress patterns tomorrow.” Mom admired us for a minute then moved her piece.

  “A queen and a princess,” Dad said. “I love you girls.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  “Taddy,” a stranger, called out to me from another room, another place. Whoever it was addressed me by my adult name. They clearly weren’t in this study. I didn’t go by Taddy till after I was emancipated.

  Not wanting this moment to end, I ignored the voice and hoped to stay a few minutes longer. I felt as if I floated on a sea of Cotton Candy. “I love Candy Land. Anyone can win. All you have to do is play.” I repeated.

  “Taddy, wake up,” the strange voice spoke again.

  “Just follow the rules—” Wait. I squinted. The sun, it was burning my skin.

  Sitting up, I realized I wasn’t at the San Remo. My parents weren’t in my life. Lex didn’t sit at my side. However, I floated. Just not on a spun-pink web of cotton candy. Nope. More like in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

  In horror, I grabbed at my hemline and caught site of the airline’s logo. I sat on a piece of the plane. My flip-flops were long gone.

  “Lex!” I shouted. Tears saltier than the water surrounding me swelled from within.

  “Blake.” I wiped my eyes. Coughing up sea, I tried to get control of my emotions. Otherwise I’d choke. I shouted my best friend’s names again and again. Inhaling through my nose, I screamed so loud I thought my tonsils would fly out of my throat, “Viveca Farnworth!!!”

  No one replied.

  The sounds of the waves crashed against the debris.

  A rush of dizziness came over me. I licked my lips tasting blood and let out a cry.

  “Mademoiselle.” A strained voice murmured behind me. It was the one that had awoken me from my dream.

  Sobbing, I looked over my shoulder.

  Leon lay a few feet behind me. His shirt was off, displaying his muscular body. Little red cuts covered his arms, hair wet and slicked back, his face sunburned.

  Instinctively I touched my cheeks. Irritated and hot, they felt burnt too. My body started to tremble violently, almost as if going into shock over what happened. “How long…have we been…on here?” I glanced up at the sky.

  The sun wasn’t up as high as when we’d first taken off.

  “Heures,” he said. Leon inched himself closer to me and held out his hand to try and comfort me. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I need my friends.”

  “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” I placed my palm against his. “I feel…disoriented.”

  “Did you hit your head?” With his other hand, he touched the back of my neck and examined my scalp. “I do not feel any bumps. What do you see?”

  “Your beautiful chest.”

  He smirked and asked, “Any white spots?”

  Shaking my head in response, I couldn’t believe we’d been on this makeshift raft for hours. “What happened?”

  “We crashed.”

  “I get that. Where is everyone?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  Emotions soared inside me. Tell me they landed okay. Everyone is floating up ahead of us. They’ve gone for help. Something. “Leon. Please.”

  “I do not know…”

  “Then tell me what you do know.” I studied his handsome face. He had a wide forehead, thick eyebrows, and lips that I’m sure, under any circumstance except for today, were kissable.

  “The pilot made a sharp turn—back to the island.”

  “Didn’t we fall apart in the air?” It was all a blur.

  His feelings seemed hidden. Upset. I could tell by those kissable lips of his. They trembled. He cleared his throat and said, “I grabbed onto you. My seatbelt snapped.”

  “We got sucked out together?”

  “Oui. We ended up in the water with a chunk of the ceiling. I pulled us up on here. You were unconscious.”

  “Leon, you saved me?”

  He tapped the metal. “This is what saved us.”

  “Where is everyone?” I asked him again. I had to know.

  Leon’s eyes settled on the water. I followed.

  Aquamarine and dark navy waves were all around us. We were in the middle of nowhere. Even the air seemed still. No breeze.

  I wanted to get up and run. Run like when I knew the “F” train was on the subway platform back home and I had to catch it. The anxiety coming over me became unbearable. Would there ever be another
train to catch? A ride to take us from here to there, wherever here was exactly…I hadn’t a clue.

  “My friends didn’t get sucked out like we did.” I thought about Lex, Blake, and Vive. Such a nightmare—how could they be taken away from me?

  “The plane turned back for the island. They must be close to Eden.” Leon’s words filled with hope.

  “Eden?”

  He nodded. “They probably swam to shore.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oui.” For a second, I thought I noticed tears in his hazel eyes. Blinking a few times, they disappeared.

  “How do you know they’re alive?”

  “Stop.”

  “No. You don’t know. Do you?”

  “Arrête!”

  “They’re dead.” I cupped my mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “My heart would tell me if they were gone.”

  “Your heart?” I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

  “If your friends had died, do you not think you would feel their loss, deep-down inside, even without anyone telling you?”

  Hmmm. I didn’t want to go there.

  Move Over Brooke Shields

  On a floating piece of the aircraft, we sat in silence.

  Leon glared at me. I searched inside myself for an answer to his question about whether or not I thought my friends were…dead or alive.

  My mind recounted the time my parents had dropped me off at Avon Porter. When their sedan had pulled away, I knew in my thirteen-year-old heart that I’d never see them again. And I didn’t, not until years later in family court.

  Today, sitting here on this piece of floating shrapnel next to a man I hardly knew, did I sense that same despair about my friends? The only thing I felt was anger. Pure rage boiled within me. If I’d taken my besties money, and not this silly job, none of this would’ve happened. Boarding Air Carribea was all for me, my wants and needs. Not my friends. Therefore this crash weighed on my shoulders.