flight, but she didn’t want to miss this one and wondered how everything worked out when Erick found out about her delay.
Two hours later, Cindy was back where she should have been the day before, sitting on the flight bound for Morocco . Like the one the day before, this flight was also near full capacity. Cindy sat in first class and couldn’t help but stare at the lavishly dressed Sheiks and the elegant women who accompanied them.
Cindy walked into the first class section and easily found her aisle seat next to a slightly built dark-haired girl who was busy reading a book.
“Hello.”
The girl looked up to acknowledge Cindy, which made her feel much more relaxed than she’d been on the flight over.
“Hello; are you going to the film festival?”
The girl nodded.
“My father is a producer in Africa. I am going to meet him and my mother.”
“My name is Cindy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Cindy. I’m Aziza.”
“Nice to meet you, Aziza. Do you live in Morocco ?”
“No, I was born there but now live and go to school in London . My parents and brothers are still there. Is this your first time?”
“Yes, actually it’s my first trip overseas. I am going to meet some people I’ve never met before.”
“Yes, that happens here. There are many business dealings going on in our country. Particularly this week.”
The engines began to rev up as the plane cleared the runway and in her mind, Cindy had to acknowledge how far she’d come in such a short period of time. She was no longer afraid, for some reason. She wondered if it was the company she was keeping or the good night’s sleep. Regardless, she was thrilled this flight would be a far cry from the last.
“You like film?”
“Oh yes. Back in the United States we see a lot of movies.”
“Yes, we often get your older movies here. They are very good. Where are you from?”
“ Dallas .”
The young girl’s eyes grew wide as her mind obviously put together a highly idealized version of the place.
“Have you seen the show?”
“ Dallas , you mean, with J.R. Ewing?”
“That’s the one. I love it. It’s brilliant, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.”
Halfway into the flight after meals and drinks were served, the plane experienced an incredible surge of turbulence and Cindy’s calm demeanor quickly went out the window as she gripped the arm rests again as if she were regressing into her tortured past.
The creamy undertones of Cindy’s skin turned to green as she felt her stomach sour. Aziza turned to her with a concerned look on her face.
“Are you okay? You do not look so well.”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“You need some ginger. Maybe some ginger ale will help you with your illness.”
Cindy pushed the button and ordered some, and was pleased that it did help her settle her stomach until the next wave hit and Cindy was certain she would lose her lunch this time.
“Oh, no. I don’t feel so well.”
“Breathe. It will pass.”
Although it unfortunately never passed completely, Cindy made it until the plane landed and crawled out of her seat.
“Thank you for your help, Aziza. I hope to see you at the festival.”
“You are most welcome. Many blessings to you.”
Cindy groggily grabbed her small carry-on and marched in step with the other passengers toward the door of the plane. She gripped the railing on the long metal staircase leading outside and gasped as the dry desert air nearly choked her, blasting her face and filling her lungs. She held on tight and walked outside on wobbly legs.
As she looked up at the bright blue sky and over to the sand-colored building and arched doorway, she immediately noticed Arabic writing on everything and a new wave of panic filled her.
Oh my god! What have I done?
Blinded by the bright sunlight, she slipped inside the strange old building and tried to get her bearings: starting with where to go first.
Two hours later, Cindy was back where she should have been the day before, sitting on the flight bound for Morocco . Like the one the day before, this flight was also near full capacity. Cindy sat in first class and couldn’t help but stare at the lavishly dressed Sheiks and the elegant women who accompanied them.
Cindy walked into the first class section and easily found her aisle seat next to a slightly built dark-haired girl who was busy reading a book.
“Hello.”
The girl looked up to acknowledge Cindy, which made her feel much more relaxed than she’d been on the flight over.
“Hello; are you going to the film festival?”
The girl nodded.
“My father is a producer in Africa. I am going to meet him and my mother.”
“My name is Cindy.”
“Pleased to meet you, Cindy. I’m Aziza.”
“Nice to meet you, Aziza. Do you live in Morocco ?”
“No, I was born there but now live and go to school in London . My parents and brothers are still there. Is this your first time?”
“Yes, actually it’s my first trip overseas. I am going to meet some people I’ve never met before.”
“Yes, that happens here. There are many business dealings going on in our country. Particularly this week.”
The engines began to rev up as the plane cleared the runway and in her mind, Cindy had to acknowledge how far she’d come in such a short period of time. She was no longer afraid, for some reason. She wondered if it was the company she was keeping or the good night’s sleep. Regardless, she was thrilled this flight would be a far cry from the last.
“You like film?”
“Oh yes. Back in the United States we see a lot of movies.”
“Yes, we often get your older movies here. They are very good. Where are you from?”
“ Dallas .”
The young girl’s eyes grew wide as her mind obviously put together a highly idealized version of the place.
“Have you seen the show?”
“ Dallas , you mean, with J.R. Ewing?”
“That’s the one. I love it. It’s brilliant, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.”
Halfway into the flight after meals and drinks were served, the plane experienced an incredible surge of turbulence and Cindy’s calm demeanor quickly went out the window as she gripped the arm rests again as if she were regressing into her tortured past.
The creamy undertones of Cindy’s skin turned to green as she felt her stomach sour. Aziza turned to her with a concerned look on her face.
“Are you okay? You do not look so well.”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“You need some ginger. Maybe some ginger ale will help you with your illness.”
Cindy pushed the button and ordered some, and was pleased that it did help her settle her stomach until the next wave hit and Cindy was certain she would lose her lunch this time.
“Oh, no. I don’t feel so well.”
“Breathe. It will pass.”
Although it unfortunately never passed completely, Cindy made it until the plane landed and crawled out of her seat.
“Thank you for your help, Aziza. I hope to see you at the festival.”
“You are most welcome. Many blessings to you.”
Cindy groggily grabbed her small carry-on and marched in step with the other passengers toward the door of the plane. She gripped the railing on the long metal staircase leading outside and gasped as the dry desert air nearly choked her, blasting her face and filling her lungs. She held on tight and walked outside on wobbly legs.
As she looked up at the bright blue sky and over to the sand-colored building and arched doorway, she immediately noticed Arabic writing on everything and a new wave of panic filled her.
Oh my god! What have I done?
Blinded by the bright sunlight, she slipped inside the strange old building and tried to get her bearings: starting with where to go first.
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