by Aimee Norin
With a silly grin, Lourdes watched Mike move the occasional body part, sometimes in beat with the music-also noting the enthusiastic, have-fun smile on both Millie's and his face.
The song's introductory rif continued, "and two and," pause, "and two and?"
The whole crowd jumped into it.
"Come on!" Millie told Lourdes and Jim.
"Oh, not me," Jim said. "I'm no good at that."
"And you think he is?" Millie said about Mike.
"It looks like epilepsy," Jim agreed.
"No, you are good. I watched you earlier," Lourdes said.
"Get up here!" Millie ordered, until finally, before the words of the song began, Jim's grin spread into abandonment. He jumped up to join them.
Lourdes watched him again: minimalist, leg-dip movements, but definitely in sync with the beat-and, actually, what made him good wasn't his style, but his enjoyment.
"Lourdes?" Jim called to her. Dancing beside her chair, he held his arms out for her.
"No," Lourdes said with a small shake of her head.
"Lourdes?" Jim pleaded.
No! she thought. She looked around her at everyone else.
Steve Miller sang:
"I heat up
I can't cool down."
Jim leaned over to gently hold Lourdes' right hand while he slightly moved with the music.
Lourdes laughed at him, embarrassed and charmed at the same time.
Other people of all kinds around her danced their happiness.
Sexy.
Smooth.
Spastic.
Sloppy.
Some not even guessable.
Jim leaned closer to Lourdes while he danced with her hand as if he were making love to it.
Lourdes gave up. She jumped up to join Jim-sliding into fun with Steve's live music and these crazy people she'd fallen in with at the most amazing airshow.
Jim continued holding her hand as he modified his technique with a ridiculous hip movement, making Lourdes laugh out loud.
Lourdes moved in his reflection to echo his hips, and Mike laughed at her.
"Oooooooh!" he yelled! "Lourdes!"
"Abra-abra-cadabra?" Steve sang.
"I want to reach out and grab ya."
The song had been in Lourdes' head all day.
The audience sang the chorus with him, all tens of thousands of them, including Lourdes, which developed into the magic such a large crowd can have when they're all enjoying the same thing, all on the same page, all not worried how they look, all not caring about other issues in life.
Lourdes couldn't have imagined, a week ago-
Jim leaned in to put his arm around her waist, slid his left foot between hers to dance closer.
Lourdes moved in a little, herself, to move with him, slipping her right hand into his left.
"You guys are totally not married," a younger man behind them yelled out above the singing. "No way. 'Cause married people don't dance like that."
Jim drew her in tight, kissing her while they danced.
Several people around them were charmed into comment.
"See?" the young man said to the guy next to him. "I told ya."
When Jim ended the kiss, he laughed at the two youngsters.
Lourdes stood frozen, touching Jim's chest, unable to think or move, let alone dance, still mentally lost in his kiss, and the song, and the- Everything.
"Why don't you kiss me like that?" Millie slapped Mike playfully on his arm.
"Sure, Love," Mike said. He smacked her a good one on the lips. "How's that?"
Millie laughed at the comic screwball and ground out some skilled moves guaranteed to encourage him further, later.
"Oh! Violation of the public rules! Violation of the rules!" Mike said. "Just the way I like it!"
Jim held Lourdes close and let his sway move her with the music.
Lourdes' dance had faded; her mind was gone. There was no concert, no thousands of people surrounding them, no dusk, no yelling, no screaming. There was only Jim, the strength of his arms around her back, his movement, his whiskers, his neck, his leg-
Jim moved his hand down her back.
Sparks flew in her mind. Without realizing it, she kissed the left side of his neck.
Her mind had been in pain for so long- How could this be, she wondered without realizing it. The world was so- Things were so horrible so long. How could this be? Evil around her. People with their thoughts- The pressure! Year after year. It wasn't possible. Pieces of hundreds of painful incidents had formed the basis of her emotionality for decades- Things she needed to be and was unable to be. The way people misunderstood her-and she didn't even want them to understand her at all, on some levels, which made it more painful.
Don't trust people!
Stay away!
People hurt.
Closeness hurts.
Stay separate.
Be anonymous.
Always be ready to move.
You give in, you get close and they'll stab you in the heart with a rusty, barbed knife and twist it while you scream because you should have known better than to live in their world in the first place!
Run! she felt-while she clung to him, hugging his neck, moving with his magic.
Her tears began flowing again of their own, soaking his shirt. Her face didn't distort; her tears flowed on their own.
Jim held her more tightly, and she let him, needing to flee but needing to stay even more.
Lourdes leaned backward against an isolated tree in the darkness, pulling Jim's face closer. Pulling him closer. Opening herself to him without knowing it. Encouraging him. Pulling him into her, until finally he was there. Unable to think, she involuntarily wrapped her arms around his neck and groaned, holding him tighter and tighter?
At two o'clock in the morning thunder storms raked overhead. Lightning ripped through the sky like a broken strobe exposing dark, jagged clouds. Thunder shook everything within a hundred miles.
The rain hitting the tarp over Lourdes' tent sounded like its own version of constant thunder, a loud, deep, continuous white noise of angry spats and plats. The tarp pulled at its guy lines in the gusty North wind, adding more noise to the mix, the lee side flapping and tearing violently at its stakes. In the distance, six feet away, hail tinked and clacked against the light-weight aluminum of her plane.
And of all this, Lourdes and Jim were unaware, lying together inside, arm in arm, in peaceful sleep.
CHAPTER 24
At dawn on Tuesday, it was cloudy. The sun-appearing even more brilliant than usual because of its contrast to the otherwise gray sky-peeked through a brief hole in the clouds to shine over Runway Three Six, across wet grass, and under the bellies of countless airplanes on the field, lighting the bottom half of Lourdes' tent.
Lourdes' phone rang and woke them both.
Jim rubbed his face.
Lourdes scrounged around in her tent to find her phone. It was on her clothes bag next to her battery-back-up phone charger. Still dry.
"Yes?" she answered, lying back down.
"Lourdes? This is Millie."
"Yes," Lourdes said out of inertia, still half asleep.
"Oh," Millie said. "We have to have breakfast together- Did I wake you?"
"Hi, Millie," Lourdes said, waking.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm an early riser-"
Jim began to register events. "It's Millie?" he asked.
The phone went silent for a second. "Lourdes! Is he there with you!" Millie gasped and wheezed, laughing. "No! I think it's wonderful! Welcome to the family!" she said.
"Uh-oh," Lourdes said to Jim, handing him the phone.
"Oh, I'm so happy!" Millie said, loudly enough so they could both hear regardless of who held the phone. "We have got to have breakfast-"
"Love you, Millie," Jim said, looking at Lourdes beside him, his first smile of the day forming on his face.
The sun's light went out, and the rain began to pat on the overhead tarping again.
"Jim!" Millie said.
Jim leaned over to kiss Lourdes who pulled away. "Sand paper!" she said, feeling his whiskers with the fingers of her right hand, her own smile forming.
Millie laughed into the phone.
Jim moved to put the phone down, but Lourdes grabbed it. "Maybe in a couple hours?" she asked.
"About eight? Same caf??" Millie asked.
Lourdes hung up the phone.
Jim rolled over to kiss her some more, moving the sleeping bag aside.
Outside the tent, a solo man walked by under an umbrella, dipping to go under the outboard edge of Lourdes wing.
He heard a noise that sounded like a woman in the tent, maybe in distress.
"Hello?" he asked to the tent. "Are you alright in there?"
The lady giggled.
"Oh," the man said, chuckling to himself, and trundled on his way to the heads.
The rain was pouring outside, splatting all over everything, dripping down the clear plastic walls of the flight line tent caf?. The white-noise patting of rain was loud on the canvas roof overhead. People shuttled around inside, shaking rain off light jackets as if an actual storm was raging-every single one of them with a smile from ear to ear.
"So did you get wet?" a young, thin, wiry man asked another on their way to the food line.
"Are you kidding? Dry like Moses. Good tent."
"Ah!" another man said cutting in to their conversation. "I was soaked!"
Everyone in earshot laughed at him.
"I know how it is!" a man called from several feet away.
"Had water flooding in all over the place," the wiry man shared with the whole tent.
"Through the rain fly on top?" someone else asked him.
"No! I think an evil Sith Lord picked it up and dipped the whole thing over there in Lake Winnebago, me and all. Swimming with the fish."
The men laughed. The storm had energized the whole airfield.
"So what'd you do?" someone else asked him.
"I slept wet!" the wiry man said. "What you think? Cheap tent! It looked good at the store! So I draped my sleeping bag out on the wing, this morning, to dry and look: it's raining again all over it."
The men laughed again.
Lourdes and Jim sat opposite each other at one of the tables and enjoyed their breakfast: eggs and French toast for Jim, a short stack of pancakes for Lourdes. Orange juice and milk for the pair.
Jim looked over at the man who had referenced the Sith. "Jedi?" Jim asked.
"Commando," the wiry man said back with a knowing smile.
Millie and Mike walked in through the open east side of the tent, shaking rain off umbrellas, closing them. Millie spotted Lourdes and Jim right away.
Mike smiled and waved.
"Ha ha ha!" Mike laughed, slapping Jim on the shoulder and heading to the food line.
Millie sat down by Lourdes and beamed. Without notice she reached over and hugged Lourdes a big one. "Honey!" she said.
Lourdes smiled.
Millie hugged her again. "Lourdes!" She waited for Lourdes to respond.
Lourdes looked at her.
Jim ate his French toast.
"Look!" Millie showed Lourdes her left hand.
"Oh my God!" Lourdes exclaimed. "Oh my God, look at that! You got engaged?"
Jim looked up at Millie.
"Engaged?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," Millie said, beaming.
Lourdes hugged Millie vigorously. "What? How?"
"It just happened this morning! I think that little S.O.B. was waiting on this guy," Millie said, indicating Jim.
Jim looked innocent.
"Years, I've been thinking Mike should hurry up and he never does," Millie said. "Then you show up, and whamo! Lookie this!"
Lourdes held Millie's left hand and looked at her ring. A beautiful little diamond in a prong setting. "Oh, it's lovely."
Millie put her hand in front of Jim's face to show him.
"You're beautiful. Congratulations to you both," Jim said with a genuine smile.
"We woke up in the motor home-great storm-and he got amorous, and then popped it out to me with a 'Why don't we make it official?' announcement, and I grabbed it before he could get away."
Lourdes gave her another hug.
"Sounds like it got the job done," Jim said.
"We've been together for years. Even though he has his studio over in Kansas City, we're already like an old married couple, anyway. But this is so beautiful." Millie held her ring hand up again. "And I've got you to thank."
Millie jumped up and gave Jim a peck on the forehead.
"I haven't done anything," Jim said.
"I think you did," Millie said with a wink. "I think a large part of Mike's success is your support. You are more amazing than you think."
Jim took another bite of his French toast.
"Isn't he great?" Millie asked Lourdes.
Lourdes smiled knowingly.
"Oh my God!" Millie said, examining Lourdes neck. "Whisker burn all over the place- Anywhere else?" she asked laughing. "Lourdes-!" Millie asked, demanding an explanation.
"Nothing!" Lourdes said, feebly. "It was raining-"
"Aren't we a pair!" Millie said.
Thunder cracked overhead and more rain poured down on the roof of the tent caf?.
People cheered it, thankful for the moisture.
"Remember a few years ago? Wettest year we ever had at Oshkosh. A soaker," one man said to a group of others.
"I do!" said another. "And last year it was hotter and drier. This year? I like this. I like a good rain now and then."
There was general agreement among the happy pilot campers. Someone couldn't resist the old, bad-weather, go-no-go adage: "It's better to be down here wishing you're up there, then up there wishing you're down here."
Thunder cracked again to make the point.
Mike returned with two cardboard tray boxes of breakfast for Millie and himself. He sat down beside Jim and slid Millie's box over to her.
"Congratulations, Mike," Jim said warmly, reaching over to shake his hand.
"Right!" Mike said. "And you, too."
"No reason to congratulate me," Jim said.
Lourdes remained quiet, trying to sneak in a bite.
Mike laughed. "I know you too well," he said, then to Lourdes, "I know, for example, that Jim here? He loves everyone in a general sense. The best man I've ever known in my life." Then to Jim, "Be the best man at my wedding?"
"You bet," Jim said.
Mike continued to Lourdes. "Taught me everything I know. Except the money bits like art and welding and the art business, and how to set up web pages and stuff like that."
"So why'd you pop the question last night?" Jim asked.
"She has a steady paycheck," Mike said.
Jim laughed.
Millie beamed.
"But when it comes to close women, Lourdes," Mike said, "Like that? Jim's heart doesn't go out often. One horse guy, he is. Only other woman I ever knew him to love was Connie-you never saw anybody care for anyone so much, no matter how hard it was toward the end-and when she died four years ago, it killed him."
Jim took another bite of eggs.
"I know you already know this, but I can't say it enough. It's been hitting me lately. He's been the living dead-never ending-until recently. And now I'm seeing his light again. And I know that's not anything you need credit for, either, Love, but it's part of the thing here, which you are, really, a part of, so thank you," he said, winking at her. "Hell, I'm thankful for the whole universe, today."
"So where are you guys gonna live," Jim asked.
"If you guys can stand me up in Greenhills, I'm gonna move up there with Millie. Sell my studio in Kansas City."
Lourdes and Jim walked slowly together, arm in arm, under Lourdes' umbrella over swamped, mushy, four-inch grass through thousands of experiment
al airplanes. The thunder had stopped. There was a light, steady rain over the whole field. Only the most determined or romantic were strolling.
The mechanical, computerized voice of the Automated Surface Observing System for Wittman Regional spoke over Jim's telephone loudspeaker.
"?Oshkosh Wittman Regional airport
Automated Weather observation-one five four one zulu.
Wind zero three zero at four.
Visibility three, light rain.
Sky condition: ceiling, three hundred broken, seven hundred overcast.
Temperature one niner Celsius; dew point one niner Celsius.
Altimeter two niner niner two?"
They both understood the ASOS: the winds were northeast and light. Light rain. Low clouds, some of which almost touched the trees-cozy, if you're strolling along. Temperature about sixty-seven degrees Fahrenheit-barely an excuse for a jacket.
He ended the call and put the phone into a plastic sandwich baggie, slipping it back in his pocket.
Jim wore his long-sleeved light blue shirt from the concert the previous evening, and Lourdes wore a clean top, though under a light grey jacket she had stashed in the back of the plane.
Lourdes held onto his right arm with both her arms. He held the umbrella in his left.
"They said it hailed last night, but none of the planes seem to have been bothered by it."
"No," Jim agreed. "I'm glad yours is fine, too. And I'm not worried about mine. I'm sure it's fine-but regardless, it has to be brought to this airshow. These things have as much right to live as we do, and should. They shouldn't be locked up in hangars, only brought out when it's perfect."
"If you ask me, this is perfect," Lourdes said.
He looked at her. "Yes, it is."
"You speak about planes like they have a soul," she said.
He seemed to thin. "They're part of the universe," he said, as if that explained it. "We might mosey that way and see if it's still there, though."
"Okay."
She leaned into him a little more. The nearly deserted flight line was so romantic. She just wanted to keep it, savor it. Walking in the rain with him was so beautiful.
They came upon an unconventional design for an airplane: mostly white, composite manufacture, a canard up front, main wing to the rear, winglets, retractable gear. A four-seater.
"This is a Velocity," he said.
"Yes." She knew.
"A really slick design. Fast."
"It looks very nice," Lourdes said. "Someone did good work on it. The paint is perfect."