Air Force Hero

by Weston Parker

  “Have you talked to him about any of this?” Rosie asked.

  “No.”

  She stared at me blankly. “Then you can’t hold any of this against him. Maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s been doing, how he’s been making you feel. That’s not fair to him. He’s a good man. You know that. Give him a chance to fix this.”

  She was right. Of course, she was right. “But I want him to figure it out on his own.”

  Rosie rolled her eyes at me. “That is so incredibly childish.”

  I blinked at her. “Pardon me?”

  “You heard me. That’s a recipe for disaster. Zach is a good man. A smart man. He probably has no idea that he’s acting any different. And if he does, why put it off? Have a conversation with him for crying out loud. You guys have been in a blissful relationship for over a year, and you’re going to act like a spoiled princess at the first sign of a problem? A minuscule problem, I might add. He deserves better than that.”

  I sat, feeling suddenly ashamed and embarrassed. Her reprimanding me was deserved. “But what if he says he doesn’t want this anymore?”

  “Doesn’t want what, specifically?” Rosie asked.

  “Me.”

  Rosie got to her feet and laughed loudly at me. “Oh, don’t be daft, Jo. He loves you. And he loves Sam. He doesn’t want out. Trust me.”

  “But how can you know that?” I hated that my little insecure self was creeping back in. I hadn’t felt her since I was with Brett, and I didn’t like it. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to feel strong and empowered. Not weak and insecure.

  “I just do,” Rosie said simply. “I can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s completely invested in you and Sam. You guys are his family. Trust me; you are overthinking this way too much. You need to talk to him.”

  I sat quietly on the floor as she packed up the pizza and threw away our napkins and paper plates. When she came back, she sat back down across from me and tucked her dress under her legs. “Maybe things are crazy at work?” she suggested.

  I shrugged.

  “There are a lot of things that could be making him act differently,” Rosie offered.

  “It’s not work. He thrives under pressure. And it’s never been an issue before.” I paused, biting the inside of my cheek.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “What if he wants to go back to flying in the Air Force?”

  Rosie sighed. “Jo. You can sit here and wonder and stress all you want. But it doesn’t change anything. You’re probably blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

  “I know. I know. Just talk to him.”

  “Yes. Seriously. You’re a grown-ass woman. Handle yourself.”

  We went back to work counting glassware. I messed up the count three times in a row, and Rosie handed me the clipboard. She stepped in and started counting and telling me the numbers to write down. It worked much better.

  My mind was in all the wrong places. I was stressing about Zach. I couldn’t shake the fear that maybe I just wasn’t enough for him. Was there such a thing as a one-year itch?

  This was a life he’d never envisioned for himself. I knew that. Everyone knew that. He wanted to spend his life in the sky. He craved freedom like it was air. I used to feel the same way until I had Sam. Then all I wanted was to be the best mother I could for him. I still struggled with guilt over how I handled the first four and a half years of his life, but I was slowly putting it behind me.

  If Zach decided he didn’t want us anymore, I had no idea what I would do.

  Sam would be devastated.

  I would be broken.

  Everything would fall apart and—

  “Jo,” Rosie said loudly.

  I looked up at her, startled. She was leaning over a box and staring at me. I was crying, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  Rosie straightened up and came toward me. She took the clipboard out of my hands and put it on the shelf to her right. Then she pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry if I was too stern. But I know you. And I know Zach. It’s hard to have perspective when you’re caught in the middle of it. He’s not going to leave. I promise.”

  “How can you promise that?”

  “Because I can. Now believe me. Okay?”

  I nodded into her shoulder, even though I didn’t believe her at all. Fear was unfurling inside me and breaking down all my defenses. I couldn’t live without him. Not after I’d tasted the sort of happiness he brought to my life and to Sam’s. We needed him to be whole.

  Rosie stroked my hair and spoke soothingly to me. I appreciated her efforts to comfort me, but I was tempted to go back to my old coping ways. I was tempted to be alone. That was how I handled the bad days with Brett. I’d lock myself away from everyone until I’d suppressed my sadness, disappointment, and anger, and then I would resurface when I had my mask on straight again.

  But I had a feeling Rosie wouldn’t let me do that, and neither would Zach, even if he wanted to leave.

  36

  Zach

  I knocked on my mother’s apartment door. She had a summer wreath hung up over her gold number plates. It was full of dried sprigs of lavender that made her section of the hallway smell wonderful.

  She opened the door smiling brightly and pulled me in for a hug.

  When I pulled away, I held her at arm’s length. “What’s different about you? New glasses?”

  She nodded and wiggled her eyebrows, causing her new purple-framed glasses to dance on her nose. “Yes. You like them?”

  “They suit you,” I said.

  I followed her into the apartment, and she gestured at her kitchen table. It was set with all the makings to throw together our own sandwiches, including a small china plate filled with gherkins—one of her favorite snacks. I plucked one from the plate and popped it in my mouth as we both slid into our seats.

  “How was Sam when you dropped him off at school?” my mother asked as she started buttering her bun to prepare her sandwich.

  “Good. Braver than me. He wasn’t nervous at all. I think he was bored of me actually and wanted me to just drive away already.”

  My mother chuckled. “You were the same way. I cried all the way home, and you walked through the doors without looking back. Heartless child.”

  “Good to know Sam isn’t as bad as I was.” I laughed. I prepared my sandwich, loading it up with mayo, mustard, lettuce, ham, cheese, tomatoes, and a bit of salt and pepper. I bit into it as my stomach growled and nodded appreciatively. “Thanks for lunch, Ma.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, daintily placing the perfect sized piece of lettuce on top of her ham. She closed the bun and pressed the sandwich flat, then cut it in half.

  “So, what’s this news you were so excited to tell me?” I asked.

  She smiled wryly and stood up to bustle into the kitchen. I heard her rummaging through a drawer and turned around in my chair to watch her shuffle back over. She placed a pamphlet down in front of me and flipped it open. “I’ve booked a trip to Ireland in the fall,” she said. Her voice almost shook with excitement.

  I found myself staring down at a picture of a castle. On the right-hand column was a picture of the Temple Bar District in Dublin with a list of coach tours around the city. I looked up at my mother. She was watching me eagerly for a reaction. “This is…” I said, unsure of the right word to use. “This is such a good idea, Ma.”

  She clapped her hands together and nearly jumped up and down. Had she been maybe ten years younger, she probably would have. “I know! I’m so excited. I convinced a few other single women in my seniors’ center to come along with me. None of us have been before.”

  “How long is the trip?”

  “Three weeks,” she said. “We even make a run to Scotland for four nights. Your father and I always wanted to go together. I wish he could come with me, but he’ll be there in spirit.” She sat back down to start eating.

  “I’m happy for you, Ma.”

  “You’d better be
.” She chuckled.

  “When do you leave?”

  “The middle of September. I was hoping you could help me get some things in order before I go. I don’t have any luggage, so I’ll need some of that. I’d like to buy myself a nice set, but I’ll need your help getting it home.”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  We spent the rest of our afternoon chatting about her trip. She told me about all the research she had been doing about famous landmarks and tourist recommended places to stop. She had already mapped out all the bars she wanted to stop at in the Temple Bar District. She’d booked her hotels, coach tours, transfers, and flights. She had purchased insurance, much to my relief.

  “I’ll make sure to bring something back for Sam,” she said.

  “He’d love that,” I said as I checked my watch. “Speaking of which, school is almost done. I’d better get out of here if I want to stand a chance of getting a parking spot near the school. The traffic director there is a total nut.”

  My mother walked me to the door, and we said our goodbyes. After she hugged me, she asked, “Everything is coming together for tomorrow?”

  “Sure is,” I said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Good boy,” she said, patting my shoulder. “Maybe next week we’ll shop for my luggage then? Once everything cools down?”

  “Sounds like a plan to me, Ma. Have a good night.”

  I was in my truck four minutes later and heading back to the school to pick up my son. I was eager to know how his first day had gone. I hoped he’d made a friend or two.

  * * *

  Sam came out the front doors of the school and looked both ways down the curb to find me. When he saw the big black truck, he took off at a jog, clutching his backpack straps to keep it from sliding right off his skinny shoulders. I got out of the truck—again breaking the rules—and gave him a big hug. Then I scooped him up, put him in the back seat, and hurried to get back behind the wheel before I got caught.

  Then I inched along behind the other cars and looked back at Sam. “So? How was it? Tell me everything.”

  Sam was beaming. He was a little out of breath from his jog but not to the point where he needed to use his inhaler. He hadn’t really had to use it at all over the last six months. Every now and then when he worked too hard and couldn’t catch his breath, he would have to, but those moments were few and far between.

  He buckled his seatbelt and adjusted his glasses. “It was so much fun. My teacher is really nice.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mrs. Darling.”

  “Darling,” I mused. “All right. And the other kids in your class? What are they like?”

  “Fun,” he said. “I sit beside a boy named Kyle, who also really likes Spiderman. And I told him about my chemistry collection and terrarium. He thought that was cool. He has a pet turtle named Turtle.”

  “Wow, that’s clever.” I chuckled, putting on the brakes as all the vehicles ahead of us came to a dead stop.

  “And behind me is a girl named Johanna. She has red hair, like Mom, and she got in trouble for drawing on her desk. I told her that the flowers she was drawing were pretty, and she smiled at me.”

  “You little charmer,” I said, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

  Sam shrugged and looked out the window. “I’m excited to come back tomorrow.”

  “Yeah? That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. I bet your mom is so excited to come home tonight and hear all about your day. She missed you as soon as you got out of the truck this morning.”

  “I missed you guys, too,” Sam said.

  “What do you say me and you make Mom a nice dinner to come home to tonight? She’s been working hard all day at the pub.”

  “Okay!” Sam cried.

  So we stopped at the grocery store on the way home. Sam clung to the end of the grocery cart, and I pushed it around while he told me about the rest of his day. He liked his teacher, even though she sounded a bit airy to me, but that didn’t matter. He talked about art time and math time. Math was, of course, his favorite.

  After buying everything we needed for dinner, I loaded up the back of the truck and buckled him back in. He chatted happily all the way home, which was nice because it distracted me from the rush hour traffic.

  When we got back to the house, he helped me unpack the groceries. I let him go play in his room for a couple of hours while I cleaned the kitchen and the living room for when Jo got home. I knew she’d been stressed lately, and I was pretty sure I hadn’t been helping with that. She would probably want to curl up on the couch tonight with her book and a cup of tea—or a glass of wine. It would really depend on how well inventory with Rosie had gone.

  I started cooking dinner around four-thirty. Sam came out to join me, and we began my specialty and one of Jo’s favorite meals, pork tenderloin. I prepared a sweet pineapple glaze while the pork roasted slowly in the oven. Sam helped me boil and mash the garlic potatoes. Then we chopped up a variety of vegetables to fry in a pan.

  We were just about done when Jo came home. Sam was sitting on the counter, boxed in by me, mashing the potatoes, well, trying to mash them, when she yelled hello down the hall. He yelled back, and I picked him up off the counter to put him on the floor. He took off around the corner to go hug his mother.

  I came around the corner wiping my hands on my pants.

  Jo looked frazzled and tired. Not that I would say that to her. She looked up and smiled weakly at me as Sam dragged her by the hand down the hall into the kitchen. When she caught a whiff of dinner cooking, the smile brightened a bit. “That smells good. Is it pork?”

  “You know it,” I said, greeting her with a kiss.

  She hung her bag on the hook behind the kitchen table and slumped in a chair. “Inventory is backbreaking,” she muttered.

  “I wish I could be there to help you and Rosie out,” I said as I grabbed a wine glass from the cupboard. She didn’t even notice me filling her a glass of merlot.

  “I do too,” she admitted. “But you have your own work to do. Hopefully, she and I will be through it within a few days. I don’t think this body of mine could handle much more.” Sam slid into the chair beside her, and she reached out to rub his head. “How was your first day of school, little man? I’ve been thinking about you all day!”

  Sam repeated nearly verbatim what he had told me when I picked him up in the truck. Jo listened in complete rapture to every word he said. She asked him dozens of questions as I got everyone’s plates ready. I placed them on the table then handed Jo her wine. She thanked me with a smile as Sam told her about Johanna.

  “Johanna sounds nice,” Jo said slyly as she cut into her pork, and I sat down across from her.

  “She is nice,” Sam nodded. “And a good drawer.”

  We talked about Johanna all through dinner. Sam was clueless about the jokes Jo and I were telling. They were going right over his head. Which was probably for the best. An innocent friendship between a boy and a girl was always a good thing.

  After we ate, I cleared the table, and Jo came to the sink to offer to help. “I’ve got it,” I said. “I want to get everything cleaned up before I head out.”

  “Head out?” she asked, leaning away from me.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. One more late night, and then I’ll be home again. Work is just really demanding right now, and if I don’t get a handle on things now, it will be worse down the road.” It was a lie but a necessary one.

  She looked down into her wine glass. “Okay.”

  “And I have to go in early tomorrow morning too.”

  She didn’t look at me but nodded silently.

  “I’m sorry, Jo. I’m almost done. I swear.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, moving to the hallway. “I’m going to go read my book. Let me know when you’re heading out.”

  “I will,” I said. But I was talking to air. She’d already left, her feet padding softly down the hall. I heard her sigh from the living r
oom.

  This would all be worth it in less than twenty-four hours. If she could just hold on a little longer, she’d see that too.

  37

  Josephine

  “Do you have your shoes on?” I yelled from the front door. I had one hand on the door handle and the other on my hip as I listened to Sam tearing his room apart in search of his favorite Velcro sneakers.

  Naturally, they were Spiderman sneakers.

  “I can’t find them!” he called back.

  “Have you checked the back door?”

  “No,” he said weakly, knowing in that moment where his mistake lay. When he first started looking, I told him they were likely at the back door because he had worn them to go out and use the swing set after dinner last night. He trudged out of his room in his socked feet and went to the back door in the kitchen. I heard the Velcro tear open as he put them on.

  Then he came back down the hall to the front door with his backpack and shoes finally on. We were running about ten minutes behind, and I was feeling flustered.

  It had been a long time since I was alone to get Sam ready for school—since Zach moved in with us, in fact. He’d been there every morning, helping me get things in order. We’d take turns packing his lunch, his school bag, and getting him dressed appropriately for his day. Kindergarten was a lot less stress than first grade, and doing it on my own was more than overwhelming.

  I opened the front door and hurried him out to the old truck. I lifted him up as it was missing side steps and got in the driver’s seat. It started up with a roar, and I reversed out of the driveway to get to school.

  “Are we going to be late?” Sam asked, peering over the dashboard. He was just tall enough to see out the windshield now.

  “No,” I said. “But we are cutting it close. Maybe from now on, we make sure everything is good to go the night before? We can pack your bag and get your shoes out by the front door so you don’t have to run around like a chicken with your head cut off.”