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That’s when I realize we’re still holding hands. I peer down at our entwined fingers, and after briefly casting my eyes back up to his, we both let go at the same time. He flexes his fingers, and I wipe mine on my pants. I continue to avoid eye contact with him until the seat belt light switches off, which is when I unbuckle my belt and stand up.
I wait awkwardly for the people in front of me to grab their bags from the overhead compartment (the few that managed not to fall all over the plane) before I step into the aisle. The only bag I have is my backpack, because my suitcase was too big to be a carry-on. I follow behind the slow-moving line, crossing my arms over my chest.
Once we’re off the plane and in the actual airport, I look out the window to see the clouds closer to the ground are a lot darker. The sky is a deep purple, and every now and then a bolt of lightning flickers in the darkness. I flinch at the first rumble of thunder, then check my phone and see that it’s 7 p.m. If it’s 7 p.m. Zurich time, then it’s almost 1 p.m. in Toronto. Exhaustion unexpectedly hits me so fast that I lower my head, my chin brushing my chest as I struggle to keep moving and brush it off.
The best thing to do is find my luggage. I don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck at this airport; hopefully it’s not for long, but in case it is, I want to change my clothes.
I go over to the carousel area and wait. Eventually, suitcases begin popping out of the conveyor belt, but even after standing there for a while, I can’t find mine. I do one more circle around the area, then head toward an employee working behind the desk. I squint at his name tag: STEFAN. I offer him a kind smile. “Hi, I was wondering if I could get some help?”
Stefan tears his attention away from the computer. “Of course, miss,” he says, his Swiss-German accent strong. “What can I help you with?”
I point to the conveyor belt. “Could you find out where my luggage is? I’ve been waiting around for a while and I’m getting concerned.” I tilt my head to the side. “Or are we not getting our luggage at all? Will it stay on the plane?”
“Let me check for you.” He types something into the computer. After a moment, Stefan gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, miss,” he begins. “But it appears your luggage is still in Canada.”
I freeze. “Excuse me?”
“It seems like your luggage got lost somehow,” Stefan continues. “I don’t know when you will be able to reach it, but I will call the airport and make sure it is on the next flight to your original destination. Where are you going?”
“Islamabad,” I say weakly. I give him the rest of my flight information, which he scribbles down onto a piece of paper.
“Alright, I’ll look into it right away,” Stefan promises. “I’m sorry this happened. Really, there’s only a one percent chance of your luggage getting left behind at the airport.”
I groan, dropping my head onto the counter. “Of course there is,” I grumble.
Frustration lines my throat, making it harder to suck in breaths that aren’t tainted by anger. I want to snap at Stefan, yell at him. But I continue to breathe deeply. It’s not Stefan’s fault the pilot had to ground the plane. It’s not his fault my luggage got left behind. And it’s not his fault I was born with the worst luck in the world. “Thank you for all of your help, anyways.”
“Of course, miss.”
I stumble over to the waiting area and collapse into a chair. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and turn it back on. The screen blinks back at me—1:36 a.m. My eyes feel heavy, but I unlock the screen. I’m glad I ignored Ammi’s advice and paid for the travel plan, because now I can call her and give her an update about what’s going on.
I call her Pakistan phone number. To avoid having to pay for a travel plan, whenever Ammi comes to Pakistan, she has my uncle buy her a temporary SIM card. It’s technically 4:36 a.m. over there, but with all the wedding prep, she might be awake. I listen to the phone ring a couple of times before she picks up. “Maya?” she asks. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
“There’s been a slight problem,” I say. I explain the situation, and she screeches on the other line.
“We’ll send someone to come get you from Zurich,” she insists.
“It’s fine. I don’t think we’ll be waiting long,” I say, my tone insistent. “It would probably take longer for someone else to get here to pick me up.”
“I can’t leave you there on your own.”
“Ammi, I’m fine,” I assure her through clenched teeth. “I’ll wait here at the airport until it’s time to leave again. I’ll be back on another flight before you know it.” I check the status of my battery. “Listen, I should go before my battery dies. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
I hang up quickly, ignoring her protests as I do so. I sink back into the seat, hanging my head over the back.
“That bad, huh?”
I straighten up when I see Sarfaraz looming over me. He looks so much better now that we’re off the plane. The color has returned to his face, and he no longer slouches. I sit up. “What’s that bad?”
“Whatever your call was about,” he answers. He takes the unoccupied seat next to me.
I ignore his comment. I don’t feel like talking about my problems with my mom with a stranger. “Do you have any idea how long we’re supposed to be grounded in Switzerland?”
Sarfaraz grimaces. “Unfortunately.” He reaches into his pocket and produces his phone. “I asked one of the employees earlier. There’s a freak storm rolling in, and we got caught in the beginning of it. Apparently, the airline can’t afford another lawsuit, so they decided the best course of action was to land the plane and wait it out...but we’re going to be waiting for a while.”
“Crap,” I mutter. I should have expected something like this to happen; the ticket was alarmingly cheap. I knew Jinnah International was a shady airline, but I didn’t have the budget for anything else. A teacher’s salary does not cover direct flights on secure airlines. In fact, since I also couldn’t afford the connecting flight, I had purchased tickets for the much cheaper seventeen-hour bus ride for the final leg of my journey from Islamabad to Karachi. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Well, it looks like the storm’s going to be in Zurich for at least a few days,” Sarfaraz explains. “The airline can only afford to put us all up in a hotel for one day, but after that we have to figure it out on our own. They’re anticipating the storm will end by Wednesday.”
