A Perfect Life: A Novel

“Fine. Just leave my bags on.” She had the ticket stubs for her checked luggage in her purse. She texted Salima then that her flight had been delayed, but she would get there. She couldn’t meet her at the apartment, and would meet her at the concert hall. She would be there no matter what. It was seven A.M. in New York by then, and she was sure that Salima was still asleep. Instead, she texted back within seconds.

“Please, please, please get there. I need you.” Her words ripped Blaise’s heart out, and she started to feel sick. It had been a stressful morning, and she was terrified there would be some further delay.

“I promise I’ll be there,” she texted back, and Salima answered back with “ok.” Blaise prayed she was telling Salima the truth.

After that, Blaise waited tensely until they announced the flight to New York, which began boarding at two fifteen, another five minutes late. Blaise headed toward her gate, and already exhausted, she boarded the plane and took her seat, and turned down magazines, newspapers, pajamas, toiletries, orange juice, and champagne. It felt like a bazaar with everything they offered. She accepted a bottle of water and sank back into her seat, praying they would close the doors soon. She texted Salima that she was on the plane, and then had to turn off her phone before she got a response. And at three fifteen they slowly rolled away from the gate. She should have been landing in New York by then. If she had, it would have worked perfectly. Now she wasn’t sure.

They finally took off and headed toward New York, and Blaise sat nervously, glancing at her watch for the first two hours and then gave up. There was nothing more she could do. She would have to do all her rushing on the ground at JFK. And before she took a nap in the comfortable seat, she told the purser that she needed to verify VIP assistance on the ground, to get through the terminal and customs quickly. She told him the story about interviewing the president too. She didn’t know if he believed her or not, but he said he’d check what he could do. And after that she watched a movie for a while and fell asleep. She didn’t wake up until they were serving the meal, most of which she didn’t eat. And after that three different flight attendants asked her for autographs. She wasn’t in the mood but signed them anyway. She was tense for the rest of the flight, checking every half hour on their ETA.

“I thought you were supposed to make up time in the air,” she said, looking anxious.

“Yes, but we’re fighting headwinds today.” Blaise felt like she was fighting all of Air France, headwinds, and the universe. It had been a nightmare so far, of contradictions, delays, and lies, which were standard fare these days for flying on all airlines in every part of the world. It wasn’t unique to Air France.

She went back to sleep then under the blanket, and felt the gentle roundness of her stomach. She would be five months pregnant in a few days, and she was wearing loose shirts and tops that covered the slight bulge. Unless you looked very carefully, it really didn’t show yet, but she knew it would soon. She had managed to conceal Salima until she was six months pregnant, but after that the cat was out of the bag. She had been a young network star then, just starting out, and people thought it was cute, even her producers. She had been twenty-seven years old. She didn’t know how cute anyone would think it was at forty-seven and unmarried. She suspected that Zack would be less than amused, particularly if it caused a problem for them. Blaise intended to see that it didn’t, but she was concerned. It could even start Zack on a bad roll again, looking for another Susie Quentin. Or worse, another Blaise McCarthy. But there was nothing she could do—she would have to take a few weeks off to have the baby. She smoothed her shirt over her belly, and lay in her seat, “praying” the plane toward New York. So far they were on time, and the only thing that could delay them further now was if they had to circle the airport in New York instead of land, due to storms or traffic.