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Lost Memories (standard:mystery, 3492 words)
Author: HulseyAdded: Jun 17 2002Views/Reads: 1909/823Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A man encounters his dead wife on a flight to Crete. A complex tale.
 



As the aircraft soared above the clouds, my clammy hands gripped the
armrest, as if this would prevent the aeroplane from plummeting to the 
ground. I had drank more alcohol than I should have; firstly, to 
diminish my fear of flying, and secondly, because I had become an 
alcoholic since the tragic death of my wife Pam, two months ago. 

I looked around me. The old couple sitting across the aisle from me did
not fill me with confidence, as they held hands tightly. The woman was 
mouthing the Lords prayer to herself, an action that enhanced my fear. 

When Pam was alive, she was my sedative whenever we flew. Her calming
influence was my salvation, but now I was living in a vacuum. Her death 
had affected me deeply, even though we had been married for only nine 
months. Pam was something special. Her sense of humour and happy go 
lucky manner used to light up my life, sending a surge of electricity 
through my body. 

I pondered and recalled that dreaded day when the telephone rang. It was
safer to fly than to cross the road, or so they say. Pilot error was 
the given explanation. I kept picturing the plane crashing into that 
fog-shrouded mountain in Tenerife. Her body was never found, and that 
fact ate away at my innards. My decision to hold a private memorial 
service was no substitute for a real funeral. 

I eyed the air stewardesses and thought of Pam. who loved her work. She
was a great communicator, who loved talking and meeting people. What a 
waste. Twenty-eight years old. I realised that I hardly knew her. She 
spent so much time away from home, flying to the four corners of the 
globe. I cherished my memories with her. Yes, I still had my memories. 

My guv, Chief Superintendent Walton had been more than patient with me.
“Take as long as you want,” he had said. I took him at his word, and 
after much prompting, had decided to fly to Crete. We had fallen in 
love with the island, after spending our honeymoon there. Pam stated 
this is where she wanted to live when we retire. 

I felt a little guilty going on holiday so soon after Pam's death, but I
wanted to feel close to her again, and the island held such wonderful 
memories. 

The fasten your seat belt light went out and I breathed more easily. The
take-off and the landing, I dreaded. My inclination was to press the 
button for a stewardess, for I needed a drink badly. My hand shook as I 
awaited the stewardess. 

I had promised myself that after the holiday, I would go on the wagon.
Drink and police work was not an amicable pairing. I watched as the old 
couple smiled; their seat belts still intact. My mind wandered, trying 
to imagine what it would have been like to grow old with Pam. 

I was in a dream-like state when the childlike figure walked down the
aisle towards me, as only she can walk. I inhaled her perfume when she 
approached. It was the scent of a Goddess, and she ignited in me a past 
memory; a memory of happiness and love. 

“Yes Sir, can I help you?” 

There was no mistaking. She even sounded like her. I was facing my wife.
She cocked her head, smiled and she gave no hint of recognition, but it 
was her. Her high cheekbones and complexion, the colour of honey. The 
perfect, white teeth that were visible behind her full ruby red lips. 
Her long, auburn hair was tied back behind her blue hat. I stared into 
those alluring blue eyes as she spoke. 

“Is everything all right, Sir?” 

I just stared, mouth agape. I realised that I was looking at a ghost. 

“P...P...Pam?” I stuttered pathetically. 

“I'm sorry, Sir, my name is Susan,” she said, pointing at her nameplate.


“But you look so much like her.” 



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