Falling for Jillian Ashley: A Carlsbad Village Lesbian Romance

She blinked again. He was holding out a paper cup. Steam was coming from the top of it.

“Coffee?” she heard him ask. “You look like you could use it.”

She nodded and reached for the cup but her hand was shaking too much to take it from him.

“Here,” the paramedic said. He gently lowered her hand and then placed the cup on the seat next to her. “Drink it when you’re ready. I need to go help some other folks. Take care.”

She nodded. Very carefully, feeling like a toddler who was just learning how to use her limbs, she reached for the coffee cup with both hands and carefully grasped it. Her hands still trembled but using both of them made it manageable.

The coffee was terrible. And it was unsweetened. She liked sweetened coffee. But how was the paramedic to know that? Anyway, it was hot and it was helping her focus again and she remembered…

The plane had landed but it had been a bumpy ride all the way to the ground. When the wheels touched down on the tarmac, people on board had screamed because they were so jittery. Sally had been one of the screamers. When you’re on an obviously broken aircraft, and your body is tucked up into a ball and you can’t see the ground approaching out the window, you can’t help but scream when suddenly the plane makes contact with something hard and unyielding. In the split second after touchdown, her hyper-frightened mind was certain that the plane was crashing, that that was the end and so of course she screamed.

Somehow they had all gotten off the plane using that big inflatable slide. Whenever she had seen that used in movies, Sally had always thought it looked like fun but now she couldn’t remember if she’d had fun using it today.

On the ground were fire trucks and ambulances. There was smoke coming from somewhere. Thick and black.

Those among the passengers who could walk were hurriedly guided to a shuttle bus; those who couldn’t were put on stretchers. Her and Amy—

Amy!

Where was Amy?

“Amy!” she called out, standing and looking frantically around, not even really sure where she was. It looked like a hangar. There were scores of people around—some of them scurrying about, some of them lying on cots, some of them sitting in folding chairs, looking as dazed as Sally felt, staring off into space. Paramedics were administering oxygen and checking blood pressures; people with clipboards were sitting with passengers, asking them questions or handing them forms to be filled out. Others were pacing, talking on their phones, crying. There was a table with food and drinks. Most of the passengers, herself included, had blankets draped around their shoulders.

It was all coming back to her in fits and starts—her mind finally accepting that she was safe and allowing her memory to function again.

Her and Amy had already spoken to the airline representatives—but Sally refused to sign anything and she prevented Amy from signing anything as well. Her father was a lawyer and had taught her enough to know that when something like this happens, the last thing you do is sign any piece of paper. They had also already been seen by the paramedics and both were deemed injury-free—well, except for Sally’s bruised cheek.

And then…

Sally remembered telling Amy that she needed to call her mother, but the call had gone to her hospital’s answering service; her mother was in the operating room performing surgery. Sally was asked if she wanted a message to be brought to Dr. Lassiter in the O.R. No, Sally had told the operator and hung up. She was alive and for all she knew, her mother was the only thing keeping some poor guy from starring in his own funeral soon. Sally figured she could tell her mother about the Incident later. So, she had called the next person who immediately came to mind: Max.

“Fuck! I’ll be right there!” he had stated. “Out the door right now!”

And then after that phone call—it was all coming back to her now—she had just slumped in her seat and stared off into space, undisturbed until that thoughtful paramedic brought her coffee.

But Amy…

She spotted Amy sitting on the ground against one of the hangar walls, sobbing, her hands covering her face, her cell phone on the floor beside her. That’s right, Sally remembered…Amy had wandered off to call her mother as well.

Rushing over to her, Sally sat on the floor and pulled Amy into her arms, rocking her gently and trying to shush her.

“It’s over, baby; it’s over,” she cooed.

Eventually, Amy calmed down.

“My mother wants to fly here to be with me,” Amy said with a laugh, wiping her tear-streaked face. “I told her, ‘Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t get on a fucking plane! Like, ever!’”

Sally laughed.

“That’s not actually going to stop her, is it?” she asked.

“I told her there’s no need,” Amy answered. “I’m fine. Still crying with relief, but fine.”

“I think I’ll be shaking all night,” Sally murmured, already worried about what kind of nightmares she was in for later when (if) she fell asleep.

“I’ll be there with you,” Amy said, holding her tighter, making Sally feel warmth flow through her entire body.