Rayan put down her cup of hot chocolate, still standing next to the window of her apartment, staring out into the darkness. It was 4am, and she still hadn’t managed to get a wink of sleep. She watched as the planes took off every few minutes. Living next to the airport definitely had its disadvantages; the noise was sometimes too much to handle, the sound of the engines rattling her windows every now and then adding to her already accumulating stress. But it was at times like these, in the dead of night, when it was much quieter, that she appreciated the view from her bedroom window.
Thousands of tiny lights stretched for miles, illuminating the night sky
like fireflies. The airplanes lined up, one after the other, as far as she
could see, having either just landed or waiting for takeoff. Those that
were being prepared for their next flight; this was something that she enjoyed
particularly. It was like watching a patient being prepped for an operation;
first, they slowly wheeled the plane in until it was next to its terminal, the sound of its engines dying. The air stairs rolling in, adjacent
to the doors on either side of the plane that had opened to allow the
passengers out. And they would trickle out like ants, into the awaiting shuttle
buses, that then whisked them off to the terminal. As soon as the passengers
were out of sight, dozens of workers descended on the plane, and began their
process. Doors in the belly of the plane would hiss open and bags were
transferred into awaiting trucks. The air stairs had disappeared by now and
would be replaced by the catering truck, whose body would be lifted up to the
level of the aircraft door on a scissor lift. The catering company
employees would then take out the empty food carts and replace them with
freshly prepared carts, positioning them in the galleys of the aircraft. Lavatory
trucks, placed at the rear of the plane, would also be elevated to the same
height, and would begin the unpleasant business of emptying the plane’s sewage
tank. The whole process usually took between 45 minutes to an hour, during
which Rayan would watch, completely lost in what she was seeing. She had seen
this done so many times, and could do it a thousand more. It was so systematic,
so thorough and orderly. She admired how efficiently the workers got the job
done, even on busy nights when planes descended in hoards, separated only by a
window of a few minutes.
Tonight, however, was a quiet night. The usual hum of engines
that she had grown so accustomed to was absent, and everything was pretty
much at a standstill. With a small sigh,
she returned to her bed. She would have to get some sleep soon; otherwise she
wouldn’t be able to get up for her morning shift at the hospital. She lay down
and stared at the ceiling, attempting to still the many thoughts running
through her head. She didn’t know how she was going to break the news to her
parents. She was still reeling from the discovery herself, yet she knew she
would have to tell them soon. She was glad no one else in their family knew,
for word tended to travel fast. And they would be devastated if they found out
from someone other than her.
But how did you tell a mother that her daughter had only a
few months left to live?
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