Women were hard to live with, and they were hard to live without. Constantly being on the road made relationships a challenge for Luis. Still, he had to admit that he was often glad to see the next assignment come. A new shoot would let him get away from a new girl without guilt. He enjoyed his freedom, and, while he was not proud of it, he was sure he had broken a few hearts in his day. Only once did it catch up to him. That was Beatriz, who left him after a short but riotous affair in Montreal. Luis was not sure he would hurt like that again, and he tried to avoid it as best he could.
“For all passengers awaiting information on Flight 221, we have an update…”
SIX
The Waiting Game
When it was called a ninety-minute delay, people started to move away from the gate. They moved to phones, to find food, to shop the newsstands, wandering the terminal to pass the time.
The families going long distances were getting harder to move. If anything, the space they occupied became larger and larger as gear neatly packed in bags got pulled out, used, and spread on chairs. It looked like they were leaking, and getting them whole again would take some work.
“Ben, I have some bad news. No way I am going to make the connection. Yes, I've tried them all….can we reschedule the cruise for January?”
“Hi, sweetheart. Been trying to get you. I miss you, too, but it won't be long now. How did your mother take it?”
“Take it out of the freezer, but put it in the fridge. You don't want it to thaw too fast. I could be a while.”
“Long time ago, I used to go straight through but they canned the nonstop. Now I'm all over the country trying getting there. Leave it to my brother to live in God-forsaken Egypt.”
“Well, tell them to bloody well move it! I can't fly the stupid plane myself! You want I should talk directly to Bob about this? Didn't think so. And get me a car, because I'm not going to try to get a cab at that hour…hey watch it!”
“Watch it yourself, pal.”
“Who you calling ‘pal?' No, not you, Barry, this guy who thinks he's the only person in the rotten airport.”
“Well lookee who's talking. You got stock in luggage companies, buddy? Move it or lose it.”
“You threatening me?”
“Nah, asking nicely. That's my foot under there, you know.”
“You want to take it outside, big guy?”
“Sure, you head on out, and I'll meet you in a jiff.”
Delays sure made folks hot under the collar. The closest passengers, without making any eye contact, moved away from the scene. Not Luis. Luis watched it all.
SEVEN
Secure the Area
Luis watched it all. He didn't move. He'd seen that look in the eye before, and his mind wandered back to a shoot along the coast, very far away from here. A guy who knew a guy got Luis a meeting with a honcho in the resistance, and with strict orders to forget every inch of the way, which he couldn't see anyway on account of the blindfold, a meeting was arranged.
It became clear that the revolutionary liked to see his picture in the magazines, and Luis was selected for the honors. His job was to get an exclusive shot of the boss on his own turf. He wanted to be pictured with a couple of his kids around him. The leader was trying to show that, contrary to official reports, the young people of his country were right behind his spotless intentions. That sort of thing. Luis would normally pass on the beauty shots, but the target had not been seen in more than a year, and many presumed him dead. A chance to take fresh photo was not to be missed by this photojournalist.
When the car arrived at its remote destination, Luis understood the only sound tolerated out of him was the click of the camera. Beer bottles and something stronger were passing among the men behind him.
“Here! Now!”
“He does not wait for you!“
With the sour taste of fear in his mouth, Luis was shoved forward with the barrel of a gun. It occurred him that to there were too many armed people dangerously close to wasted for this to go well. Somebody made a remark, and in a flash, guns were cocked. Luis heard the click of automatic weapons and a low murmur from the pumped-up foot soldiers. For what seemed like forever, two men stared at each other. When one cracked a smile, the tension eased, at least enough for them to walk away from the situation. He memorized the sound of the surf, the faint waft of pot, a gleam in somebody's eye, all tropical and idyllic, and all screwed up.
With a break in the action, Luis was bundled back into the beaten Ford, head under the seat, and raced back toward town. He lost a couple rolls of films and a very expensive lens. He lost his nerve, too, and had to force himself to walk, not crawl, away from the car when his drivers saw fit to release him. But he had the shot.
Back in the cabana, he began to breathe again. The “resort” was not much more than a timber pyramid with a big room downstairs and a sleeping loft above it. All of the space was open to the elements. He lay back on the cot and let the gentle drift of sawdust fall on his face as termites bored into the logs above his head. After a little, then a lot of tequila with his jovial host, he found a calm center. Hearing the ocean throb in the background, he fell into a sleep as deep and untroubled as he had ever experienced in his life. He understood that life can go from dull to terrifying and back to dull as quick as that. His dad said life was like being an airplane pilot hours of boredom interrupted by a few minutes of pure terror.
And it was the terror, the adrenaline he found himself looking for more often than not. He wondered what others did for that kind of juice.
EIGHT
Time Passes
Waiting is a learned art, Luis reflected. As a seasoned traveler, he was, he thought, pretty good at it. He had his books and his iPad to keep himself busy. He practiced patience and didn't get mad.
“We're going to stay right here in case they take off. Just like the blighters to leave without us.”
“Oh, man, I could have stayed in bed another twenty minutes.”
“Serves you right for coming in at two in the morning.”
“But what a gig! Who gets to see Red Meat open? Awesome!”
“Sure, but lose the shades. You look like a drug dealer.”
“Not with this head, man.”
The sunglasses stayed on.
“Head for the car rental as soon as we get there. I'll pick up the bags.”
“They can't really start without us, can they?”
“No telling with that bunch of animals.”
“They will take all the pets out of the hold, won't they? I hate to think of Annabelle in the dark all this time.”
“Nah, they'll keep her inside the terminal until we're cleared. They won't load anything until we go, in case they have to change planes.”
“Change for Chicago, maybe? See if we can drive from there?”
“Oh, have a little patience.”
But patience was in short supply.
Except for a young couple in the corner. They had multiple wires coming out of their heads and hands—iPods, cell phones, and they were all tangled in a heap. But the couple was as sound asleep as two babies in their cribs, her hand curled over the top of his head. They looked interwoven, their foreheads touching. He snored just a little. Luis closed his eyes. He remembered.
NINE
Time, and Time Again
He knew a girl when she was very young, now that he stopped to think about it. Maybe nineteen or twenty; he was never exactly sure. Back then, he was shooting for a news story on the fledgling peace in the North of Ireland, and she was an occasional student in Queens. With Luis' leather jacket and the bag of film and his look of experience, she, of course, fell for him, hard. But so young, she was so young. She really was a beautiful kid beneath the attitude and the mouth and the wild hair. She behaved like a young James Dean in drag, all the moves of a village poet. But so damn young.
Their affair was tender, and she was a little stiff until a trip abroad loosened her inhibitions. Then it was time for the
next assignment. For some reason, he had delayed taking a new story longer than usual; he was getting comfortable. But he had to work eventually. To his dismay, she was awfully clingy. The tough act dissolved, and he found himself with a hassle. He began to wipe her out of his mind. After all, she was a child, a pain, a nuisance. It was years later when he remembered her face looking out over the sea, her life in front of her, that he missed the smell of her skin. And that way she brushed the hair up off of her face, like a child intent on a sidewalk game.
In their most private moments, when it was quiet and the night was very late, he would look down at her. She seemed small in contrast to her big-ass attitude. She was so pale that she glowed in the firelight of the flat that was their only refuge. He made sure she hit the road before the landlady caught a whiff and sent her out into the night to her own rooms at sometimes two—sometimes three, even—in the morning. She was so eager, he figured he was doing her a favor. She was so eager, maybe she was doing him a favor.
It was a northern winter evening. The sun had set near three in the afternoon. She had gone down the country to visit a roommate's family and to see what the Irish called the Troubles up close. He had been close enough, thank you very much, and the excitement of soldiers was lost on him. A little out of character, he collected her at the station. When she stepped off the train, it was all he could do to resist running toward her, and he surprised himself. Instead he put a hand out to help her down and kissed her on the mouth, a kiss so soft and so young and so fresh that he thought he was tasting the beginning of time.
He supposed she knew more than her years but in all, he had to move on. She was still just a silly girl of twenty. There was the world to see. She had the rest of college, he had the rest of his life, and their parting was amicable. He wasn't sure she knew it was final. A few letters trickled in then stopped. She got finally got it.
Last year he saw her again. He was flying through the city he remembered she fancied, and he looked her up out of curiosity. And there she was in the book.
She had finished school and had a few experiences under her belt. She had lived abroad, had gone to work and had got a little older, like everybody else.
They had dinner in a hotel, which was safe and neutral. He was curious, happy and a little excited to see her. They talked about most things, moved toward certain subjects and away from others. They were having a good time. Feeling a little sentimental, he casually said he thought he had room in his life now to see her once in a while. He moved around so very much but occasionally he was in town, and maybe they could start something, you know, without any strings.
She reached across the table and took his right hand in hers. It startled him but he was hooked. He let it rest. She held his hand in hers for a long time while he remembered a family ring she always wore on that hand. Where was it? And he thought how small her wrist was.
She turned his over, as if to study his palm, and then turned it back again. She looked into his eyes and slowly placed his hand back on the table. Just before the entrées arrived, she stood up and headed toward the restroom. He waited until the food was cold to inquire of the waiter if he had seen the girl. Was she on the phone?
“She left some time ago.”
“Left? The building?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Really? Did she say where she was going?”
“No, sir.”
“Did she say anything at all?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well?”
“I asked her what I should tell her dinner companion.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘Anything you like,' sir. ‘Anything you like.'”
Luis did not see it coming. He never expected she would not sign on for the affair. She had grown up when he was not looking.
Thinking of that night, he knew that he had kept himself remote for too long. He felt like a person looking out of a plane at the world, thousands and thousands of feet below.
Of course, he made sure he always was.
TEN
Uniforms
“….announcing Flight 47. At this time, we'd like to invite members of our armed services to board at this time.”
Lucky sods, thought Luis. Their flight's on time. When he looked at the four young men with pink shaved heads and camouflage fatigues, he had to reevaluate his position on that. Luck was something those boys required, and big time. From the shine on their faces and the youth in their eyes, it was clear they were not very long in the service. That plane was probably not taking them anywhere good.
“Yo, man. Switch with me. Get me away from that window.”
“All going the same place, brother.”
“Can't stand flying.”
“You telling me this now? You know how far we gotta go in one of these contraptions?”
“Contrary to your belief, young man, airplane flight is immensely safer than any other mode of transport. And thank you, son, for your service.”
“He's right, man. Plane's a hell of a lot safer than humvees. Or civilian traffic, for that matter. Or on the freeway with twenty women drivers or something.”
“Watch it, Private.” The woman's lapels spoke volumes. “You could be depending on females who don't take too kindly to the insult.”
“Ma'am, yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. Just having a little fun.”
“And you can get that out of your mind, too,” she tossed over her shoulder as she marched onto the jetway.
“You'll be fine, man. Plane's as safe as your momma's arms.”
“Yeah, it's the damn destination that kills you.”
Nervous laughter.
“Bring on the humvees.”
“Man, you couldn't find the front end of a hummer, much less drive it. Get going.”
“Drives me crazy, this cell phone. Now I got three messages, and they are all from yesterday.”
“You're going to get a tumor with those things in your ears.”
“Ears and nose and toes. You try.”
“Eees ‘n' ohs ‘n' toes!”
“That's right! Such a big girl!”
Giddy laughter.
As the baby made contact with the burliest of recruits a swift blue bunny to the back of the head the men jumped. A tense moment ensued until the GI bent down to retrieve the toy. Handing it back to the mother, he paused to touch the little girl on her chin.
“Keepin' me on my toes, right, little darlin'?”
The baby squealed, giggled and lobbed it again.
“Now welcoming our first class passengers. Passengers seated in rows one and two may board at this time.”
Lucky sods.
ELEVEN
Time Stops
“Weather.”
“Crew change.”
“Labor action.”
Throughout the airport, passengers were confronted with the entire list of reasons for flight delay, Luis had heard them all before.
“Mechanical.”
At the sound of mechanical problems, Luis laughed, thinking about the planes he had flown. Many of them should never have left the ground, and yet here he stood, no worse for wear.
“Lawn dart,” that's what his fellow passenger—one of four that fit— called the twin engine heap that carried him from one island to another in the Pacific. He saw glimmers of the sea below through cracks in the floorboards.
“Not a confidence builder, is it, buddy? Your insurance up to date?”
“Tree Top Airline.” That's what another passenger called the military transport that carried him to a shoot outside Kabul. Luis was not quite sure what crop—or product—or weapon made the lumps in that canvas mound, but he sat on it as they bounced over the arid landscape.
No pretzels or orange juice on those flights. The idea of a flight attendant was a luxury, in his mind. He only had that kind of service when he was flying domestic jumps. Where were the flight attendants on this flight, by the way? Were they stuck on a beached plane?
No, Luis rea
lized. The flight attendants had given up long ago and headed for coffee. How often do they plan on sleeping in one city and end up hundreds of miles away? It comes with the job, Luis thought. What a way to make a living. Maybe that accounts for their steel in dealing with passengers. Luis would never cross them. Not on your life.
Sometimes, he thought, the work was pretty exotic. Heading to an assignment in Brazil years ago, he watched, amazed, when the attendants came off shift. Sure, it was a long flight. But just clock out? The flight attendants, all women, all young and beautiful, had boarded the plane long before the passengers for a four a.m. flight to the interior. At some signal, one by one, they entered the first class lavatory in uniform and emerged fifteen minutes later in very civilian high heels, tight skirts and mounds of eyelashes. Then, they simply sat down in open seats. In-flight service ended on the spot. When the plane landed, passengers saw themselves off the plane and wished themselves a happy onward journey.
Across the terminal, at a gate on the other side of the aisle, Luis saw another group of travelers dealing with a delay. In the middle sat an older couple. She read her magazine. He sat quietly in his own thoughts. They looked awfully patient, and what was that on her jacket? A pin of some sort. He tried to make it out.
“Passengers on Flight 221. We will have an update for you at the top of the hour. We apologize for the inconvenience and are doing everything we can…”
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