She rests her suitcase on the seat and unzips the top, completely ignoring me.
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant is suddenly beside her. “I need you to stow your luggage and take your seat. We’re about to leave the gate.”
“I know, I just…” She rummages through her bag like she’s looking for something specific.
“Ma’am?”
Ma’am?I would have gone with'Miss.’Camila doesn’t look anything like a ma’am. She’s more of a knockout today than she was when I first met her at The Waffle House. The years have matured her into a beautiful, classy woman.
“I really need you to take your seat. The captain is ready for departure.”
She rummages for a few more seconds, not finding whatever she’s searching for.
“Ma’am?” The flight attendant’s voice is more stern. “After we’re in the air, you can get what you need.”
“Okay, okay.” Camila seems visibly disappointed as she zips up her suitcase, forgoing the search. She raises her luggage above her head, causing her shirt to lift. My eyes drift to the insulin pump on her stomach. I’m not looking; it’s just eye level and flashing—kind of hard to miss.
I didn’t know she had diabetes. Probably something a husband should know. But as I recall, she was pretty cagey back then. She wouldn’t even tell me her blood type.
The stewardess shuts the overhead bin as Camila drops into her seat. For a split second, she closes her eyes like she’s resting. That’s when I notice the bead of sweat on her forehead.
“Ma’am, your seatbelt.” The flight attendant is all over her.
“Yeah, sorry.” Her eyes open, and she fumbles with the straps. Just as the flight attendant walks away, she stops her. “Do you think I could get a snack or something?”
Irritation causes her lips to purse. “You’ll have to wait like everyone else. We’re trying to have an on-time departure.” And before Camila can respond, the flight attendant is gone.
If I had any food with me, I’d offer her some. She looks peaked.
“Are you okay?”
She dismisses my concern with the flip of her hand. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
They go through the whole seatbelt and oxygen mask drill, and when it’s over, I steal a glance at my wife. You know, just checking in on her well-being like any good husband would do. She’s looking at something on her phone, so I guess this isn’t an emergent situation. If she’s not concerned about her current state, then I shouldn’t be either.
I force my eyes to the screen in front of me. I’d planned to watchA Walk to Remember,but that was before Camila showed up. Now, I’ve got an awkward conversation to keep me entertained for the entire flight. I’ll let her get her bearings straight before I introduce myself as her husband.
The aircraft whirls and hums as we pick up speed and lift into the air. After a few minutes, the seatbelt sign dings, and a flight attendant comes over the speaker. Beside me, Camila undoes her seatbelt. I was lost in my movie and hadn’t noticed her obvious physical decline. Her face is pale. Droplets of sweat gather at her hairline. I sit taller, ready to call the attendant, but she stands like she’s trying to get to her bag again. She rocks back, holding onto her suitcase handle for support.
I jump to my feet and take the luggage out of her hands, lowering it for her.
“Do you need some help?”
“I…don’t…know…”
“Do you need me to get something out for you? Or get you some orange juice or something?”
Her head does a complete circle before she looks at me. “I just…need…” But before she answers, her legs give out, and her body goes limp, falling into mine. I catch her before she hits anyone or the floor. There’s a gasp or two from passengers around us.
“Call the flight attendant,” I say to the nearest guy.
I lay her in the aisle, resting her head in my lap so it’s elevated—it’s fine, we’re married. “Camila, are you alright? Is your blood sugar low?”
“My…pump…” The words come out in a slur as she tries to hold up the phone in her hand.
I tap the home screen. There’s a notification from her automated insulin device, alerting her that her recent reading was at sixty-five.
“In…su…lin…over…dose. Glu..cose…suit…case.” Her eyeballs roll back into her head as she passes out for good.
