The Abduction

I heard the baby crying as soon as I stepped through the doorway of the plane. “Oh no,” I thought. “Just what I need. A fussy baby for the next eight hours.” My head was already pounding with the stress of having to get on a plane, as well as the lack of good night’s sleep, due to worrying about it. And now this. Some start to what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.

I stumbled down the aisle as fast as I could, glad to be near the first in line for this cabin, so that I wasn’t forced to stand and wait while others found their seats and stored their luggage in the overhead bins. The baby was forgotten as I focused on finding my seat and sitting down as quickly as possible. Once I had my seat belt fastened, I leaned my forehead against the window, hoping the cool glass would help to relieve the pain. I loved to travel. I hated being on a plane. However, one didn’t work well without the other, so I gritted my teeth, hoping the destination itself would be worth the discomfort of getting there. So far it had.

The continued wail of the baby broke through my negative thoughts. I glanced up from my seat to see the source of this unhappiness. There were three adults sitting in the middle seats at the front of the cabin, right against the bulkhead. On the far side of the group was a young man, probably in his thirties, looking like he would prefer to be anywhere else than he was in the moment. To his right were two older women, clothed in the garb of a distant time; a distant place. They took turns attempting to calm the crying baby, passing it back and forth between them, but nothing they did seemed to help. Not the bottle. Not rocking. Not a dry diaper. Nothing.

As I watched, I thought back to my own babies and how I had learned to respond to their cries over the months following their births. In the beginning it had seemed to be endless chaos; with both my husband and I trying to guess exactly what they were trying to tell us. Were they hungry, tired, uncomfortable, or in pain? As the days flew past, we gradually learned to decipher each message, giving us a sense of control and thus making our lives much easier.

As I listened to this baby, I realized that this was a very different cry from those of my children. This was the sad, heart-broken cry of a child who was grief-stricken. A child who has lost everything and was terrified that it can never have it back. I think back to the one time I had heard my daughter cry like this. My husband left home for week for work when she was about two months old. She was okay during the day, but started crying shortly after he would have returned from work in the evening. Nothing I did comforted her. She cried that heart wrenching cry every night while he was gone, until she was so exhausted, she couldn’t cry any more. It stopped as soon as she was back in his arms, the night he returned. We never heard it from her again.

The parade of passengers passing by my seat dried down to a trickle and finally ceased altogether. The stewards begin to prepare their tools for the safety spiel as the plane backed away from the gate. A young woman rushed down the aisle and dropped into the seat next to me. She was wearing a baggy dark coat that covered her body all the way down to her knees. A black hood was drawn up over her head and pulled forward to cover most of her face. She removed her sunglasses and glanced straight at me for a moment. Then she smiled and said “hi” and turned to concentrate on fastening her seat belt.

I replied “hello” and turned to gaze out the window, ashamed to show her how afraid I was. I began reciting my mantra of prayers in my mind.They had worked before. They had better work now.

As the miles flew by, the baby continued to cry. I found that I could not keep my eyes off the older women as they continued their vain attempts to calm the child. Nothing seemed to help. My mind began to wander, creating different stories that may have led to this scene unfolding before my eyes. Who were the women and what was their connection to the child? Was the man with them, the father? If so, he didn’t seem to be very interested in what was going on and made no attempt to help in any way. Where were they going? Had the baby’s mother died? Perhaps she had lost both parents. That would explain the loss. That would explain why the baby’s clothes were so different from those of the two women. I think about my cousin and how he and his wife had adopted a baby from Eastern Europe. Was this what is going on? Maybe they were from some kind of an adoption agency. I wished that I had someone to discuss these possibilities with. I glanced at my seatmate. Would she be interested? She was staring at the women and the baby, fully focused on them. I decided not to bother her.

The stewardess came to help, bringing a bassinet that is hooked to the wall of the bulkhead, allowing the baby to sleep up, off the floor. The baby was gently placed in this bed, but it didn’t help. The crying continued. A meal was served. The trays were all gathered. The lights were turned down and the cabin was quiet, except for the cry of the baby. I turned back to the window and willed myself to go to sleep.

I awoke with a start in the dark, wondering for a moment where I was. The cabin was quiet except for the drone of the airplane motor. The baby must have finally fallen asleep. An urge to pee took over my body. I silently cursed this sign of aging I have had to adjust to. I got up slowly and made my way past my seat mate’s knees, apologizing as I did so. She is still staring in the direction of the women, but acknowledged my apology with a nod.

When I got back to my seat, I found that the girl had moved over to the window. She was sitting with her back to me. I stood and looked at her for a few minutes, wondering if I should remind her that she was in my seat. I decided that it was not worth the effort. I dropped into the aisle seat and was back to sleep within minutes.

The next time I awakened, the plane was flooded with sunlight. We had almost reached our destination and were beginning our descent. One by one the passengers woke up and began to gather their things, getting ready to disembark. I glanced towards the women with the baby. They were still sleeping. The stewardess leaned over to awaken them. They sat up, yawning and then began to gather their things together. Finally, one turned towards the bassinet and reached down to pick up the baby. She screamed as her hands came up holding an empty blanket. The baby was gone. Both women began to sob hysterically.

The whole plane erupted with activity as the news of the missing baby traveled from one passenger to the next. A voice on the intercom requested that everyone sit down and stay in their seats until the baby was found. Members of the crew began to go down the aisles, carefully checking every seat to see if they could find her. Others checked the bathrooms and work stations, all to no avail. They began to question the passengers, asking if they any idea where the baby is? Asking them if they had seen anything unusual? Everyone answered in the negative.

I felt a hand on my arm and turned to face my seatmate. She looked deep into my eyes and mouthed the words “it’s my baby.”

I gasped, and then realized I had some thinking to do. I thought of my babies again, cuddling into my arms, trusting me. I thought about the women, passing the baby back and forth, without finding a way to comfort it. I thought about the baby, crying inconsolably for hours, now silent under the dark coat. I made my decision. I would be silent.

In time, they let us get up and leave the plane, checking each of the overhead bins to make sure they were empty as we claimed our belongings. I stepped aside to let the girl go before me, worried about what was going to happen. A steward asked her to stop, to show him what was under the coat. As he reached his hands towards her, she snapped “do you mind. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No problem” she replied. “I’m just a bit touchy right now.”

“I understand. Aren’t we all.” He waved her by him.

She strode out the door to the walkway with her head held high. In no time at all she had disappeared, leaving me with even more questions than I had had before. Questions that would never be answered.