Grounded

Hi guys, I’m C. Fay!

If you’ve somehow stumbled onto this story... welcome. And if you’re here on purpose… well, now I’m a little nervous.

Up until now, I’ve been writing on another platform, mostly creating visual stories. But prose like this? This is new territory for me. A little intimidating, a little exciting… and honestly, exactly the kind of challenge I couldn’t resist.

So this story is me stepping out of my comfort zone and seeing what happens when I trade visuals for words, and trust them to carry the same emotions.

The funny thing is… this story has already had a life of its own. It actually won a competition before finding its way here, which still feels a bit surreal. But bringing it to Inkitt feels like starting over in the best possible way, with a new audience and new reactions.

I don’t know yet how you’ll experience it, but I really hope something stays with you from it.

Thank you for giving me this a chance!

For more, you can find me on Instagram: @c.fay_writing

When a global lockdown traps pilot Adrian Cross and shy teacher Maya Rivera in the same luxury airport hotel suite, two weeks of forced proximity turn into something far more dangerous than cabin fever. He’s grounded by guilt; she’s running from a life that doesn’t fit. Between candlelit blackouts, shared secrets and the soft ache of wanting what they can’t have, they discover that sometimes the only way to fly again is to fall.

ADRIAN

The air outside is crystal clear and the light washing over the wing is a sharp, clean silver that you can really only feel when you’re high up, in the 30,000s, cruising along.

I always say the cockpit is my church: it’s quiet, it’s predictable, it’s full of order; nobody messes around with gravity when I’m piloting the plane.

The relaxed voice in my headset is Dylan’s.

“The air’s smooth ahead, Captain.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

I’ve been flying since the age of 19. I thought I was going to do it for two or three years; it was supposed to be a means of attracting girls at the pub, nothing more.

Well, something happened and it turns out I got hooked on the silence between the engines, the way thousands of humans trust their lives in the hands of a stranger and I love that kind of responsibility. It’s control in its purest form.

People say I’m confident. My ex-girlfriends said I was arrogant; both are true. I’ve spent the best years of my life burning miles around continents, drinking champagne in Paris, waking up from hangovers in Rio, or having late night chats that would end up with me wondering in the morning what the hell I was doing tangled in sheets in someone’s hotel room.

Anyway, relationships aren’t my thing. Not because I don’t know how, but because, even though I’m already 38, I still prefer the sound of take-off to a long conversation about feelings.

“Flight 247, Captain Cross, do you copy?”

I hit the button.

“Madrid Control, I read you.”

“Captain Cross, diverting to Madrid, immediately! European airspace closes in an hour. I repeat: divert to Madrid, do not continue to Athens.”

I blink; this is unusual.

“Can you confirm reason for closure?”

“Government lockdown. Health emergency.”

Dylan raises his head sharply next to me. He’s my co-pilot and one of the oldest friends I have left. We’ve flown in tandem for years, but I’ve never seen his face drain of color like that. Behind the curtain, all the flight attendants halt their movement. Everyone feels it when the air changes. “Copy that. Diverting to Madrid.”

I hit the frequencies button and I speak in my announcement voice, in that calm tone that makes you feel good when you hear it at 30,000 feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. Due to new travel restrictions, we’ve been instructed to divert to Madrid. There’s no cause for alarm, we will keep you informed once we have any additional information.”

A murmur rolls through the plane. Nobody freaks out, they just whisper. I turn to the screen, adjust the heading and let my mind do what it does best: it calculates.

However, for a second, I feel that same old feeling that started last year, just after my near-accident in Zurich. The one that put me out of the cockpit for six months and made them send me to therapy I didn’t attend.

“Do you think this is another flu-related incident?” Dylan asks me, a little sharper than I’d expect.

“Possibly. Maybe the entire world’s in need of a good sleep.”

He laughs weakly, but I don’t. I picture the layover that was waiting for me in Athens.

An ocean-view suite, a shower, perhaps a date with the flight attendant from our Rome flight. She’d been messaging me every day since Tuesday. A stunning woman, perfect smile, no commitment; that’s my peace. But somehow it felt insubstantial today.

A few minutes later the door of the cockpit opens and Bianca looks inside. Bianca is one of the senior flight attendants and she makes the safety demonstration hot without even knowing it.

“Everyone is asking what’s happening,” she says.

I turn the chair to face her.

“They’ve been told we will be diverting to Madrid. The entire European airspace is shutting down. We have no time frame.”

“Please, tell them to stay in their seats, keep wearing their masks and don’t panic.”

She raises her eyebrow. “So we will be stranded in Spain?”

“For now. We’ll get updates from the tower once we’re at the gate.”

She puts her hand on the door-frame and smiles. “You don’t sound disappointed. It could be fun to spend a couple of nights in Madrid, right?”

“I’d prefer a landing where I know what’s coming next.”

She doesn’t smile less. “You always prefer control, Captain Cross.”

Dylan in front of me makes a show of checking the radar, but I can feel him listening. She steps closer, so much closer I am sure I’ll feel her perfume in my lungs. “If we’re stuck there… maybe we will end up in the same hotel?”

“That’s an airline decision, not mine.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” she shrugs.

“I would like you to busy yourself with something more helpful. Tell the passengers they will get vouchers for dinner when we land.”

“Anything else?”

I give her my most professional smile that doesn’t promise anything. “That will do, Bianca.” She stays just a second too long before stepping out, leaving a faint smell of vanilla lingering after her.

“Damn, you’re a lucky bastard,” Dylan says, as if he hadn’t just listened.

“That depends on what lucky means.”

“You mean you haven’t noticed how she looks at you?”

Yes, I had. Bianca and I had a brief, ill-advised encounter two years ago in Lisbon after a delayed connection and too much gin. We spent one night together and she took it seriously, but I didn’t. And ever since, she treats every flight almost like a reunion tour.

“She is persistent.”

“That’s one way to put it. I would say devoted.”

“She is devoted to be promoted.”

He laughs. “If we end up in Madrid, it could be a nice distraction.”

I look at him sharply. “Focus on the approach checklist.”

He drops his papers and looks back at me. “Of course, Captain.”

It is true, part of me likes it. Reminds me that there’s some charm still hidden in my face. But a part of me, a more dormant one, is longing for a clean room, a shower and silence. Outside, the clouds break and Madrid opens up beneath us in the slanting golden of the afternoon. I ease the yoke and check off the descent checklist without thinking. A new position comes in from the tower. Every pilot in Europe must be calling at once.

“Never seen anything like this,” I say.

“Neither have I.”

For a moment the cabin looks small. I watch our reflection on the windshield: two men pretending they’re not worried. Then I shake it off and key the intercom again.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re landing in Madrid in just a couple minutes. Please remain seated until the seatbelt sign goes off.”

“Does Bianca have your name written down on her quarantine form already?” Dylan pipes up over the intercom.

“Probably. But if she tries to sit with me at dinner, I’m changing seats.”

Maintain professionalism, I tell myself. Keep your mind on the job.

But a part of me knows that when we touch down, there are some lines I haven’t crossed in years that I won’t be able to stay on the right side of. The wheels kiss the tarmac and I’m back on terra firma where I’ve always been most at home. It’s everything that comes after that never sits right.

We head for a terminal row that looks more like a parking lot full of sleeping silver giants.

“Ground control, Flight 247 in and secure, standing by for your guidance.”

“Flight 247, welcome to Madrid. All crew and passengers must remain on board until further notice. Medical teams will meet you at the gate.”

“Copy.”

I look over at Dylan. He’s biting his cheek and I can tell he’s worrying about the paperwork.

I kill the throttle and taxi us into a distant bay. The hum of the cabin settles down to nothing but the sound of air recirculating around restless travelers. I pop the breaks and relax into my seat.

“Have you ever seen that many grounded jets?”

“Only in the movies about the Apocalypse.”

He grins at me. I let him laugh it off, that’s my only oxygen right now. The seatbelt chimes and he straightens in his seat.

“That was a beautiful landing. You could teach a class.”

“I do teach a class. It’s called ‘Don’t crash’.”

He grins and shakes his head. We get the same order to turn off the engine and wait for someone to check us out.

“Captain Cross, please have all the passengers remain in the plane. Once we have cleared your status, you’ll be escorted to customs and put into quarantine. Accommodations will be provided.”

“Understood. Any idea how long?”

“Not at the moment, Captain Cross.”

That’s what every airline pilot dreads to hear: nothing. I turn to Dylan. “I guess we’ll be here awhile.”

“No doubt Bianca will be thrilled by that.”

I shoot Dylan a look.

“You really want me to put you on galley duty for our next flight?” I grin, eyes dancing with mischievousness.

“N-no, sir,” Dylan manages between clenched teeth. “I’m just observing morale.”

Bianca’s voice drifts through the intercom again, cutting through the tension like a cool breeze on a hot day.

"Captain, the passengers want to know how long we have to stay here."

"They’re going to have to be patient,” I call back. ”This changes from moment to moment."

"So are our plans, apparently."

I cover the microphone as Dylan’s shoulders heave from his silent laughter.

“She never stops, does she?”

“No, not with you”, he laughs at me. “You have the dangerous, older-man appeal.”

“Remind me to fire whoever created that term.”

He leans against his seat. “So what is the game plan, captain?”

“We wait it out without losing our mind.”

“You ever been stuck somewhere this long?” Dylan asks.

“In Singapore once during a three-day typhoon.”

“And?”

“I made... questionable decisions.”

“Do you mean that Bianca-type questionable?”

“Worse.”

I check the monitors again even though there’s nothing to check.

The sun is reflecting through the glass, turning the cockpit a brilliant, beautiful gold. My own tired, smug reflection is clearly visible, an apt summary of my entire career.

“Captain, the passengers are getting restless and would like to know if they can use their phones.”

The flight deck door opens without knocking and Bianca is standing in the doorway, her hair in a perfect no-mess bun after nearly nine hours of service.

“Yes, but remind them that roaming fees will still apply to them.”

“You know you’re funny when you’re serious.”

“And, you know, you’re not supposed to be in the flight deck.”

“I just wanted to see the view.”

“You have been here before. Now, please go back and keep the passengers pacified before this situation turns into a mutiny.”

She bites her lip, enjoying the attention that’s clearly forbidden. “Are you sure you don’t want me here? Could be fun to keep you company.”

“Maybe later.”

I watch her walk off, giving my back that hip-swaying treat she always did.

“You have the weirdest issues, you know,” Dylan chuckles.

“Comes with seniority.”

“I bet she has plans to come into your hotel room later.”

“If she does, I’m locking the door and calling security.”

We sit in silence for several minutes while ground control decides to let us move. The planes hum with a low engine tick as they cool.

“You think they are going to keep us here long?”

“No idea. Hopefully, if it comes to a full-scale lockdown, there will be a place to get a drink.”

“No matter what ,you’d still find someone to flirt with.”

“Only if she’s not wearing a name tag from this airline,” I lean back, crossing my legs and glance out at the line of planes, a graveyard of schedules and control.

MAYA

The seatbelt sign remains glowing above and my palms are slick with sweat where I grip the arms of my seat. I realize with some irony that this is utterly ridiculous; I do not teach flight mechanics, but linguistics, yet turbulence always unsettles me.

“Flight” has never felt more apt than right this moment, especially as the captain’s voice crackles through the speakers announcing we are being diverted to Madrid.

Madrid?! I feel a sharp pang of dread.

I have no idea why we’re headed there. Athens was the destination. Athens! The city where I am supposed to be presenting my paper titled, The Sociolinguistic Evolution of Bilingual Classrooms.

A thrilling topic, I’m sure, for anyone who enjoys footnotes more than fresh air.

But now the passengers in the cabin are restless with their stomachs rumbling after eating their meals, some stale, reheated pasta that the flight attendants serve.

I look at my phone on the tray table in front of me; it’s still in airplane mode, which seems fittingly symbolic. I’m stuck.

I stand, even as the “fasten seatbelt” light still glows and walk to the seat in front of the nearest flight attendant and clear my throat.

“Excuse me?”

Her name tag reads Bianca. Of course, no woman who looks so beautiful can possibly have the name “Susan”.

“I apologize,” I whisper. “But what’s happening here? We’re supposed to be in Athens.”

“Madam, we have been diverted to Madrid. There was an announcement on a lock-down, it is an order from the government.”

I shake my head in confusion and I stand up straighter, my eyebrows raised in shock.

“Wait, a lock-down? Is everything closed?!”

“That was the announcement. It is supposed to be a temporary issue.”

“But, I have a conference to present at in Athens!”

She gives me an odd look and nods,

“I’m sure that everyone is thrilled about it. But it can be done virtually. That’s what everyone is doing.”

“How long are we going to be here?”

She shrugs and shakes her head.

“I have no idea. But once we arrive they will inform us. Now please sit back in your seat and stay there.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” I apologize and sit back into my seat.

I let myself fall back into my seat the instant the plane made contact with the asphalt and yank my phone from my bag the second the wheels finally came to a rest.

Half the cabin gasps when we land, while the other half applauds. I would have roll my eyes if I wasn’t be too busy hoping for Wi-Fi to kick in.

Once we were taxiing into the terminal, Bianca’s voice came over the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. You will be given further instructions shortly.”

I wonder if she practices this in the mirror.

I finally turn my phone on and it lights up like a firework display: my inbox is brimming with messages from work, news alerts from the news stations and a text from Henry, my boyfriend.

Henry: “You’ll figure out your speech.”

That's the most romantic thing he could come up with...

I stare at his words, the small pinpricks of pain forming once again beneath my ribcage. Of course, he doesn’t ask me if I’m alright.

I call Evelyn, my best friend instead. She picks up on the third ring, between mouthfuls of some kind of salad.

“Are you on the ground?”

’Yes, but not on the ground I want to be on. We’ve landed in Madrid, apparently.”

“Madrid? You were going to Athens.”

“Tell that to the pilot. Apparently Europe just closed like a coffee shop at five.”

“Any idea when you’ll get out of there?”

“None at all. The flight attendant was cryptic yet flawless in every way.”

“You’re panicking, aren’t you?”

“A little, yes.”

“Breathe deeply, sweetheart, it’s all going to be okay. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

“Unless that someone happens to live in the minibar of my hotel room, I doubt it.”

Suddenly, the cabin door slides open. Bianca comes out again, not quite as friendly as she was before. She starts giving instructions to remain seated while officials are coming on board. She keeps up the act of her smile, but barely.

“Excuse me again, Miss, um, Bianca, will we be allowed to go home?”

“Eventually.We will all have to be quarantined for a while. Two weeks, maybe.”

“Two weeks?! In Madrid?”

“Those are the government rules. There are some hotels the authorities will send us to.”

“They’re taking us to hotels?”

“No need to worry, they’re comfortable enough. Not five-star, but you’ll survive.”

That is when I notice her smile is not quite as wide as before. “Of course, unless you were hoping to bunk with the captain…”

“What?!” I ask horrified, but I don’t get the chance to continue.

She just turns away, a smirk still playing on her lips and disappears again behind the door.

I turn my head and look towards the cockpit doors. I’m still trying to figure out how some flight attendants flirt during a pandemic.

I feel my gut turn and it’s not only the turbulence. The mere thought of being locked down with a bunch of strangers for two weeks is enough to make me sick.

I text Evelyn again.

Maya: “They’re sending us to hotels. Apparently, I’ll ’survive.”

Evelyn: “That’s the spirit. Maybe you’ll find a handsome Spaniard.”

Maya: “Unlikely. My luck, I’ll end up with a snoring roommate who eats chips in bed.”

I turn my phone off and throw it back into my bag before looking towards the cockpit. The door is closed yet I can hear the indistinct voices of the pilots through it.

And somehow, hearing their quiet conversation gives me a strange sort of comfort.

Bianca returns for yet another announcement. This time, her voice is a bit more icy. “Passengers will disembark to leave the plane in small groups. Please have your passports ready. And no, we don’t know anything more than this.”

She looks right through me and her smile vanishes. That is the customer service, folks…

I sit back, breathing in as deep as I can and reminding myself it’s going to be okay. Okay? My stomach is in a hundred knots, I’ve got no clue where I’m spending the night and I’m already late for a conference which may not even happen.