The Red Car by Marcy Dermansky Read Free Book Online Page B

remember what I had packed.
    I did not know what I should be more upset about. That Judy was dead. That Hans had choked me. That I did not feel in control of my life. How every day happened, and then the next day, and I didn’t have a greater plan. I remembered, again, that I had finished a draft of my novel. That I did have a plan. It seemed as unreal as Hans choking me. I had been thinking I might tell him my news while we were eating pad thai. This was before I had gotten the email. Instead I found myself cleaning pad thai off the hardwood floor. It was something to do, while waiting for the cab to the airport.
    I decided to shut off my thoughts like I would shut my laptop computer. Click. I would give all of my attention to the French actress. I learned that she had been in a near death accident while waterskiing and had to have emergency brain surgery, but now she appeared to be perfectly fine. In the interview, she talked about her new film, the accident, her famous father and also her new album, because not only was she an actress, she had a music career beginning to take off. I had her new album. Hans had gotten it for me without my asking because he knew that I wanted it.
    Hans, he could be thoughtful. He loved me.
    An amplified voice called out that boarding would begin, first class and disabled passengers, passengers with children. I watched the line starting to form. I looked at my boarding pass to check my seat number. I was in row 8. That seemed like a very low number. I went to the counter. The woman looked at my ticket and told me that my ticket was first class. I could board now.
    â€œI am not first class,” I said.
    The woman smiled at me. “It can sometimes be considered a state of mind,” she said. “But your ticket is first class, so you can board the plane.”
    She looked at the magazine that I was clutching to my chest. “I love her,” she said, pointing to the French actress on the cover of the magazine.
    â€œSo do I.”
    â€œCool,” the stewardess said, but then I remembered that the word was no longer “stewardess,” and that it was possible that she would not actually be on my flight. This was unfortunate, as I wanted her to be my friend. I wanted her to sit next to me on the flight and we could talk about French movies and I could tell her that my husband had tried to choke me when I had told him about my trip, but that that was an aberration, and that he was a very sweet man, and that in the past, more than one person had proclaimed to envy me because I had married such a sweet man.
    I boarded the plane.
    Row 8 was the last row in first class.
    â€œLook at all this legroom,” I said.
    Suddenly I could sense the presence of Judy, my dead boss, nodding in approval. This surprised me. I was not one to see ghosts and I did not think Judy was the type to be a ghost. She was much too practical for that.
    I wondered if Diego knew that he was buying me a first class ticket. He must have. He must love that his job allowed him to do things like that. He was a manager. I had always thought that he would go back to Costa Rica and become a diplomat. I had never thought he would still be at the office.I had forgotten about Diego. I felt excited to see him. I buckled my seat belt.
    After the flight took off, I drank my complimentary glass of champagne and then I asked for another. I did not eat the meal that was offered to me, though it looked good. The idea of dinner made me think of the one that I had not eaten. The idea of dinner made me feel guilty. I wanted to turn off my thoughts. Click. I asked for and received a third glass of complimentary champagne.
    â€œNot too much,” I heard Judy tell me, but she didn’t mean I shouldn’t drink that particular glass already in my hand. She meant that I simply should not drink another. And so I didn’t. I drank my third glass of champagne and then I accepted the soft pillow the stewardess gave