This is a tribute to one of the most resilient women I know.
Love,
Lisa
Kelli & the Past
“At times, I don’t like this job,” Kelli-Lynn swears, her blue eyes icier than ever. “Some people are so lazy. The galley’s left in disarray. Flight
attendants play on their phones and don’t even pay attention to passengers.
It can get depressing.”
I glance at the phone in my hand. It’s illuminated like a Christmas tree,
with lights flashing every few seconds. Intermittent buzzing indicates that
I’ve received a text message or two.
“Yeah, um…” I stammer. It's no secret that Kelli-Lynn is referring to me.
“Look at this! What a mess,” Kelli mutters. She bends over, lifting a
paper towel from the floor. There’s a damp spot in one corner; she steps into
the puddle and slides a few inches. "Ugh. Water everywhere.”
I bite my lip. When teachers
yelled at me during high school, which didn’t happen very often, I never argued.
My chin quivered, my eyes clouded over, and I searched for the nearest escape
path; that was my coping mechanism.
Kelli shakes her head, sending
blond hair in every direction. “C'mon, you're better than this. Have some pride in your work, Lisa.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, my
voice a whisper. Without hesitation, I turn off my cell phone and jam it into
the pocket of my blue airline dress. “I’ve been slacking these past couple
days.”
She inhales sharply. Then, with
her jaw locked firmly in place, she folds her arms across her chest.
“Usually I’m more helpful,” I
swear, avoiding her gaze. “Lately, it’s been hard to stay motivated.”
Kelli taps her foot against the
floor. The airplane swerves to the left, indicating that we’re next in line for
takeoff. “Pull yourself together, girl. We all have our issues.”
I swallow. “You’re right.”
Two dings erupt from the
cockpit, indicating that we are about to take off. Hurriedly, Kelli-Lynn and I
scramble to our jumpseats. We strap in, barely breathing.
“I’ll do better,” I promise her
as the plane picks up speed. Engines roar, drowning out my voice.
Kelli nods. The plane soars into
the air, another flight taking off for another city on this average,
run-of-the-mill July afternoon.
Four months later, Kelli-Lynn and I
will see each other again. This time, we’ll rub shoulders in Milwaukee. She
will smile at me and actually mean
it. I will laugh with her, and my laugh will have the crystalline ring of
authenticity.
We will sum up the last four
months of our lives into four sentences. Then we’ll go our separate ways.
I won’t mention that I learned
about her past.
At all costs, I’ll avoid the topic that’s plagued her since she was a child.
Instead, I will wheel my suitcases down the terminal, glancing back one
time. Kelli’s back will fade into the distance, until I can hardly make out her
navy blue uniform among the sea of merging colors. I will breathe deeply,
wondering where the justice is in this crazy world. A man makes an evil
decision, and someone has to carry the weight of that indiscretion for the next
thirty years.
It will strike me as odd and
unfair.
It will gnaw at my insides, the
way my old sickness used to plague me.
I’ll gasp for air, close my
eyes, and remind myself that life isn’t about the tragedies that strike us at
the most inopportune times. It’s about rising from the ashes. Kelli’s done that;
there are vestiges of her abusive past, and scars that will never fully heal.
But there is something else engraved on her bruised skin: there is, above all,
hope.
I'll fly to another city, and sleep in another hotel room, and eat another free continental breakfast. But I won't forget Kelli's lesson, nor will I forget her strength.
