Afraid to Fly

by L. A. Witt

  “Oh shit. I can imagine. You need help putting it on?”

  “Nah.” He paused, making some adjustment I couldn’t see, then slipped the controller into his pocket. “If I can’t move enough to put it on, I’m putting it on too late.”

  Now that his TENS was on, he slung his bag on his shoulder, and we hurried down the concourse to our gate.

  And before I knew it—more like before I was ready—it was time. As our flight started boarding, my heart started pounding. I could do this. It was a short flight. No big deal. All the way onto the plane and to our row, I talked myself down as best I could. I’d flown before and survived. I’d be all right. Nothing was going to happen.

  We settled into our seats. Travis had the window, and before we’d even put on our seat belts, he closed the shade. He didn’t have to, but I appreciated the gesture.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I just won’t look out the window.”

  “Okay.” Travis squeezed my hand and ran his thumb alongside mine. “You sure you’re all right?”

  I’m on a sardine can that’s about to be hurtled up into the sky. Yeah, I am groovy.

  But I nodded. “I’m good.”

  The flight attendants shut the door. As they went through their safety briefing, my blood pressure climbed and climbed. No amount of oxygen mask demos or seat belt instruction could distract me from the motion of the plane and the knowledge that we were moving toward the runway. The parts about knowing where the exit was—ten steps ahead of you, lady—and seat cushions being used as flotation devices and how to go down goddamned slides . . .

  Oh, fuck my life. I hate this.

  It didn’t last long, though. No, they were finished, and now it was time for the really fun part.

  Once the flight attendants took their seats, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.

  Travis, being the saint he was, didn’t try to pry my death grip off the armrest. Instead, he stroked the back of my hand with his fingers, and that was a much better distraction than the flight attendants’ demonstration. I focused on that. On his gentle touch and the circles he drew with his fingertips. On—

  Oh shit. Here we go.

  God, I hated that feeling. And the plane always seemed to race down the runway a little too long. Just long enough for my heart to stop because I was absolutely certain something had gone wrong and we weren’t lifting off and the pilots were probably panicking now and—

  The front end tilted up.

  Then the road noise ceased as the ass end lifted off.

  And we were airborne.

  So now, instead of careening into the end of the runway, we could crash from higher up. Perfect.

  Pity I can’t drink . . .

  A couple of hours later, the plane touched down in San Diego.

  As we taxied toward the gate, Travis took my hand. “You doing all right?”

  “Much better now that we’re on the ground.”

  He smiled and squeezed gently. “Good.”

  God bless the man for not giving me crap. Whenever I had to fly, I dreaded the comments almost as much as the flight itself, and sweating bullets next to an ex-pilot seemed like an invitation for some ribbing.

  Travis had been nothing but kind the whole flight, though. Even now that we were on the ground, he didn’t smirk and say, See? There was nothing to be scared of. It was like he just went with it. I was afraid of flying, and no amount of talking me down would change that, and he’d been calm and understanding about it. That was more refreshing than he probably could have imagined.

  We finally got off the plane and walked out into the crowded concourse. Since we’d only brought carry-ons—Travis had shipped a box of gifts a week ago so we wouldn’t have to haul them with us—we went right past the baggage carousels.

  Travis paused to look around for his friend. “Ah, there he is.” He gestured up ahead at a guy in a Yankees cap waving at us from a wheelchair. We made our way through the crowd, and Travis leaned down for a hug. As he stood, he said, “Charlie, this is my boyfriend, Clint. Clint, this is my old RIO, Charlie.”

  “Old?” Charlie sputtered. “Who you calling old?”

  “Shut up and shake hands.”

  I laughed as I shook hands with him. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “You too,” Charlie said. “Your man’s been telling us all about you. Maxine is looking forward to meeting you.”

  “Where is she, anyway?” Travis asked.

  “She had to work, or she’d have come with me.”

  Travis huffed sharply. “Does this mean you’re driving?”

  “Well you’re sure as hell not driving my car, hotrod.”

  “Ugh.” Travis looked at me. “Don’t forget your seat belt.”

  “Never do.” I grinned. “Mostly because I’ve been in the car while you’re—”

  “Hey, that’s enough out of you.”

  Charlie wagged a finger at me. “We’re gonna get along, aren’t we?”

  “Probably.”

  “Oh great,” Travis muttered. “And I thought introducing you to Kimber was a bad idea.”

  Charlie chuckled as we followed him out to the car. After we’d put our bags in the trunk, he said, “Do either of you mind sitting behind me?” He pointed at the backseat. “The chair’s easier to reach if it’s behind the passenger seat.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said. “Travis, why don’t you ride shotgun? Probably more comfortable than the back.”

  He nodded. “Thanks.”

  Charlie eyed him. “Your back still giving you shit?”

  “Will be till the day I die.” Travis laughed dryly. “That’s why the good Lord gave us painkillers.” With slightly less humor, he added, “Now if He’d just give us the good ones over the counter . . .”

  “I hear ya.” Charlie shook his head. “Motrin works about as well as throwing water balloons at a house fire.”

  “So true.” Travis groaned. “Well, maybe I’ll get lucky and wind up with another kidney stone. That should be good for a refill.”

  Charlie and I both shuddered. I could only imagine the level of pain someone had to experience to use get lucky and another kidney stone in the same sentence.

  Charlie lifted himself into the driver’s side, folded the wheelchair, and twisted around. “Here, don’t want to hit you with this.” I leaned out of the way, and he put the chair behind the passenger seat.

  As he drove us away from the airport, he and Travis caught up—mostly about how the base in San Diego had and hadn’t changed in recent years—and I looked outside and took in the scenery. I didn’t mind. They didn’t see each other often, and I was still just enjoying the fact that I wasn’t at thirty thousand feet anymore. Plus I hadn’t been to San Diego in a while, so it was cool to see it again.

  An hour or so later, Charlie pulled up in front of a small rambler with a rock-and-cactus garden and an American flag on the porch. Inside, a small Christmas tree sat on an end table, and a few Santa-themed decorations hung on the walls.

  “Welcome to Casa Benson,” Charlie said. “The guest room is down the hall.” He pointed to the right. “Second door on the left. Everything is all set up, but let me know if you need anything.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take everything in.” I held out my hand for Travis’s bag.

  Travis handed me the bag. “Thanks.”

  “Either of you want a beer or anything?” Charlie asked.

  “None for me,” I said.

  Travis glanced at me. To his friend, he said, “Same here. A couple of Cokes will probably do us.”

  “Two Cokes, coming right up.”

  “Great.” I gestured at the hallway. “Second door on the left, you said?”

  Charlie nodded.

  They went into the kitchen while I went into the bedroom. There, I set our bags down and paused for a moment to roll my shoulders and exhale. I tried not to think about the fact that I’d be flying again in a few days. For now, I was going to enjoy being here with Travis and his fri
ends, and I was going to enjoy Christmas. If I was lucky, I’d even get to have a nice conversation with my kids on Christmas Day. The flight home . . . well. Fuck. Maybe I’d bail and hitchhike home. I’d see how I felt when the time came.

  When I joined them in the living room, the guys had settled in. Charlie had taken the end of the sofa, and Travis sat in one of two armchairs. Probably easier on his back, especially after being shoehorned into coach this morning.

  I took a seat on the end of the sofa closer to him, and also where my Coke was waiting.

  Charlie gestured at both of us. “So how long has this been going on?”

  Travis blushed. “Couple of months. We . . . well, we didn’t meet at the Navy Ball.” His eyes flicked toward me, and his subtle smile brought my body temperature up. “But I think that’s kind of when it started.” His eyebrows rose. Right?

  “Yeah,” I said. “Close enough.”

  He nodded, then turned to Charlie. “And what about you? You been staying out of trouble?”

  “Eh.” Charlie shrugged. “Maxine might say no, but I think I’ve been behaving well enough.”

  More serious now, Travis asked, “How’s work going?”

  “Well, the graphics work has taken off, especially since I picked up some new contracts last year. Don’t think I’ve worked this many hours in my life.”

  “Wait.” Travis cocked his head. “Aren’t you still working down at the shipyard?”

  “Nah. I was pulling in enough on my own, so I quit.”

  Travis’s eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d gone full-time. That’s great.”

  “Beats the hell out of commuting.” Charlie stuck out his tongue. “The traffic in this town is bullshit.”

  “Well yeah,” I said. “It’s California. What do you expect?”

  “You ain’t lying.”

  “So you do graphics work, you said? What kind?”

  “Oh, you know,” he said. “Commercial work. Logos, websites, advertisements.”

  Travis looked at me. “You’ve got to see some of his work. It’s amazing.”

  “Cool,” I said. “I’d definitely love to see some of it.”

  Charlie gestured dismissively. “Maybe after we’ve all had a couple of beers. So Travis says you’re Navy too, right?”

  “Yeah. Transferred to NAS Adams recently. We actually work in the same office.”

  “And they let you two date?” Charlie’s eyebrows jumped. “Really?”

  “Well, we’re not in the same department,” Travis said. “Just the same office. I’m running admin and he oversees the training department.”

  “Ah, that makes sense.” To me, Charlie said, “So where were you before?”

  “I was at Nellis Air Force Base before. I, uh, flew remote aircraft.”

  Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you flew drones?”

  I nodded, ignoring the imaginary spiders crawling up my spine. “For a few years, yeah.” I cringed inwardly, fully expecting the usual barrage of comments from people who flew real aircraft.

  “Which one did you fly?”

  “Mostly the MQ-9 Reaper. I trained on the Predator too, but they needed pilots for the Reaper, so . . .”

  “Man, I would’ve loved to get into that.” Charlie grinned. “When the drone program started up, I actually made a few calls to see if I could get in. But . . .” He gestured at his legs. “Even drone pilots have to pass physical readiness, so . . .”

  “Well, it’s not quite as exciting as you might think. The biggest problem we all had was fucking boredom.”

  Charlie laughed. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be quite as exciting as Mach 1.”

  I shuddered. “I’ll take your word for that part.”

  “Not a flier?” he asked.

  “Not when I can help it, no.”

  “Yeah, flying isn’t for everyone. I hate flying commercially.”

  Travis wrinkled his nose. “Who doesn’t? Just getting to our gate this morning was miserable as fuck.”

  “I know the feeling.” Charlie pointed toward his wheelchair. “And believe me, that thing does not simplify things.”

  “I can imagine.” Travis scowled. “Almost makes me want to get my private pilot’s license, but I doubt I’ll be buying a plane anytime soon.”

  “On Navy pay?” Charlie threw his head back and laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  Right then, the front door opened and closed. Footsteps came down the hall, and a second later, a woman with a graying black ponytail stepped into the living room.

  “Hey, trouble!” She hugged Travis. As he sat back down, she extended her hand to me. “So you’re the infamous Clint we’ve been hearing all about.”

  I chuckled as I shook her hand. “Great. My reputation precedes me.” I turned to Travis. “You’d better not have been talking shit.”

  “Doesn’t really matter what he said.” Maxine gestured dismissively. “Just the fact that you’re here with him tells us all we need to know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis and I asked in unison.

  She rolled her eyes. “Idiots. Okay, let me grab some coffee, and I’ll join you.” She headed for the kitchen, and Charlie swatted her on the butt as she walked past.

  “Hey!” She wagged a finger at him before continuing into the kitchen.

  “Still as feisty as ever,” Charlie said, beaming.

  “She has to be.” Travis shrugged. “She’s married to you.”

  “Hey!”

  “Just saying.”

  A moment later, Maxine came back and sat between her husband and me. “Travis, honey, don’t let me forget—we’ve got a couple of gifts for you to take back to Kimber.”

  “Oh, cool.” Travis smiled. “She also sent something for you guys.”

  “What? She didn’t have to do that.”

  “If you want to tell her not to, you go right ahead and give her a call.”

  Charlie and his wife both put up their hands and shook their heads.

  “No, I don’t think I want to challenge her,” she said. To me, she added, “That girl is as stubborn as her father.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” I said.

  “Hey!” Travis shot me a glare.

  “What?” I batted my eyes. “Just saying.”

  “My God.” Maxine clicked her tongue. “I see why you two get along.”

  Oh, if you only knew . . .

  “So,” Charlie said. “You still liking that base?”

  Travis nodded, absently twisting and stretching—his back was probably not thrilled about this morning’s flight. “The base is nice. Kind of a small town, but after living here and in Norfolk, I’ll take it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s one of the nicer bases I’ve been stationed at. I thought the weather would be gray and horrible all the time, but it’s really not.”

  “The weather is gorgeous most of the time.” Travis put his hand over the top of mine. “I mean, there’s gray, shitty days, but when it’s not raining, it’s amazing.”

  “We’ll have to come up and visit you one of these days,” Charlie said. “I’ve been hearing nothing but good things about that whole area.”

  Travis nodded. “You should! The guys I work with say the fishing is great.”

  Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Well, looks like we’re coming to visit.”

  Maxine playfully smacked at her husband. “As if you don’t do enough fishing here.”

  He scoffed. “There’s no such thing as enough fishing.”

  “Great.” She shook her head. “Well, no one’s fishing today. What do you boys say we put together something for dinner?”

  “Sounds good to me,” we all said.

  “Typical military boys.” She laughed. “Quickest way to your heart is through your stomach.”

  We chuckled and followed her into the kitchen.

  On the way, Travis took my hand. We exchanged smiles, and he paused to kiss my cheek.

  And despite the way the day had sta
rted—God, I hated flying—I was glad I’d come along. Travis’s friends were great, and hell . . . who was I kidding?

  Air travel or not, I just loved being with him.

  “My God, Charlie.” I sat back in my chair at the dining room table. “I forgot you could cook.”

  He laughed, spearing a piece of steak with his fork. “Apparently you need to visit more often, then.”

  “If it means getting steaks like this, you’re not going to be able to get rid of me.” I turned to Clint. “Wait until you try his salmon.”

  “Oh.” Clint put a hand to his chest. “Yes, please.”

  “Well, no salmon on this trip unless you guys want to go fishing.” Charlie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t cook that store bought shit.”

  Clint’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I’m with you. Fresh caught is the only way to go.”

  “Hell yeah, it is.” Charlie grinned. “You been fishing up there in Oregon? Or even up into Washington?”

  “Not yet, but I definitely want to.”

  “Oh lord.” Maxine shook her head and rose. “While you two talk fishing, I’m going out for a smoke. You coming, Travis?”

  Even though I wasn’t drinking, a cigarette did sound good right then, so I got up too. “Sure.” I looked at Clint. “You don’t mind if I—”

  “Nah, go for it.” He smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. Pretty sure I won’t be able to move after eating that much.”

  “Get used to it.” I patted his shoulder. “These two will not let guests go hungry.”

  “So I noticed.”

  I leaned down and kissed him, then followed Maxine outside. On the back porch, we both lit our cigarettes. We smoked for a moment before she finally broke the silence.

  “Well, now you’ve done it, Wilson.” She put her smoke between her lips. “You let them start talking about fishing.”

  I laughed. “Eh, that’ll keep ’em busy for a while.” I held up my own cigarette. “Maybe we can even sneak two.”

  “Sneak, hell.” She winked. “Unless he’s after you to quit?”