The Man Who Flew Too Much

by RB Banfield

Incident Five:

  Where Darrel Helps Bennet

  Darrel Beech’s cubicle was shared with Bennet but he acted like he owned it. Bennet seldom said anything about Darrel’s stuff being all over the place, including on Bennet’s desk. One time Bennet made a joke that maybe he should pay rent, but Darrel didn’t answer, like he was actually considering it. Bennet was not too worried how Darrel would like to get his own way, since he was not loud or obtrusive, and didn’t smell or make horrible noises, or laugh too loud like some of the others he had to work with over the years. Besides that, Darrel was always helpful with good advice, and treated Bennet like a kid brother, even though he was some ten years younger.

  Bennet thought he knew all there was to know about his co-worker, but he was wrong. Darrel was man happy on the outside, as Bennet saw every day, but he hid many sorrows that he never wanted to talk about. Now and then he would mention some near-death experience he had gone through, before realising what he had done and change subject. Bennet was aware that almost everyone in his family had died, and many of his friends too, and that he had probably tried every sort of drug known to man to cope with the trauma. He even had several tattoos, engraved during one of his many darker phases, saying either DFM or Death Follows Me. They were small and mostly hidden under his work shirt, but they still worried most people who saw them. Bennet worried about them more than anyone.

  In his heart of hearts, Bennet wished he had some idea of how to help his work buddy. He hoped that his new-found flight ability would be the answer. Although it was far too early to tell him about his flying experiments, he hoped that one day he could give his friend a reason to change the meaning of those tattoos, replacing them with something uplifting. He thought of “Dream Flight” but then got stuck on what the M could be. “My Dream Flight” seemed a bit dull. “Miraculous Dream Flight” was too pretentious.

  But first, of course, Bennet knew that he needed to be able to advance off the ground for more than a fraction of a second, before sharing his skill. There was also the possibility that the skill might be Bennet’s and Bennet’s alone, with him unable to pass along the same dream to anyone else. And if there was anyone else he would wish he could pass on the secret to, it would be Darrel.

  Or Fennel.

  Darrel arrived in the cubicle with his customary coffee and exaggerated smile. He always had a macho, which did not surprise Bennet.

  “Her name’s Fennel Richmoney,” he said as he fixed his eyes of Bennet. He ignored the fact that he was unable to find his chair and know where to place his coffee. Eventually he found his chair with his right leg, and still did not look away from Bennet when he sat down and sipped at the drink.

  “Who is?”

  “Don’t deny you’re interested in her. I see you staring when she walks past. You’re wondering if you should chase after her and spark up a conversation, right? Can’t blame you, since she’s got a nice body, and a young face, despite her age. She’s too flowery for my taste; hence my eager willingness to pass on advice and encouragement to my disadvantaged work colleague.”

  “You think she’s flowery?”

  “You know she’s flowery.”

  “What do you mean, her age? How old is she?”

  “I have no idea, except she’s not twenty. They get above twenty, they’re getting too many of their own ideas. They get too many ideas, conversation becomes difficult, then disagreement becomes a strong possibility, and if that happens you had better be ready with a joke to lighten the mood, or it’s all over for you.”

  “Why would I think she’s twenty?”

  “Are you going to talk to her, or just think about it?”

  “I would, but I have no idea what to say.”

  “I know you don’t.”

  “What do you suggest? I tried talking about the weather, but I don’t think she liked that. Gave me a bit of a verbal punch to the ribs, with her reply. Was not expecting that.”

  “The weather? You talked about the weather? That’s okay if we’re out on the ski slopes, or at the beach. Tell me you didn’t seriously ask her about the weather? The first words out of your mouth? Was it, really? Think it might rain? Tell me you didn’t.”

  “What should I have said?”

  “You want to gain her attention, and not in a bad way. What do you know about her? Best thing is if she’s interested in some obscure nutty hobby, then you can pretend to be an expert at it.”

  “I don’t want to lie.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “She works for Fearnsdale.”

  “Poor girl. But there you go; I can work with that. Make a comment that you sympathise for her, that she has him for a boss. If anyone has too high an opinion about himself, it’s Fearnsdale. Besides me, of course. Tell her that, just to get her talking, if anything.”

  “What if she likes Fearnsdale? If I go mentioning something derisive about him, she might get offended, if she likes him.”

  “Don’t worry about that. No one likes Fearnsdale. You know, that’s funny, that you think someone might like him. I happen to know, he’s a major pain when he has to go on one of his travel jaunts. He gets all flustered and takes it out on everyone. Some kind of fear of flying, I think is his problem. If it were me, I’d pay the company for the chance to get out of here and go off flying with the birds. Just think of doing that as your job. Paid to touch down in some different city, full service hotels, dinners, nightclubs, whatever you want. Massages, pools, sunshine, fancy restaurants, expensive taxis. Tell me where I sign up. All I’d have to do is give a report to some board of directors, or seminar? They should sell tickets for his job. But he goes and complains about it. Some people are just never happy, no matter what happens to them. Hate to see Fearnsdale if something bad actually did come to pass.”

  “He’s a pain how, exactly?”

  “No, I’m not kidding. He hates flying. Tells everyone about crashes and chances of survival. The thought of it makes him grouchy, and the more research he does, the worse he gets. If I had some kind of phobia like that, I wouldn’t go finding facts and figures to make it worse.”

  He looked at his coffee and regretted saying that.

  Bennet sat back and smiled. “I see ...”

  Darrel knew that look. “You have an idea. Good luck to you.”

  Bennet walked from his cubicle with purpose, confident that he had the right subject to get her interest. Usually pep-talks from Darrel left him feeling disheartened, since he really didn’t share anything in common with the man. Darrel’s advice was usually more for himself than anyone else, since he assumed that everyone was like him. Except for the part about Death following him and ruining the life of everyone he knew. And also his research showing that most violent deaths, whether accidental or planned, are caused by people who were acquaintances of the victim.

  Fennel was at her desk. She barely acknowledged Bennet as he stood there. He couldn’t help but smile, since he finally knew what to say, but he was unsure if he should speak first. He hoped that she would have seen him coming, but since she was busy with her work, she did not notice. When she finally looked up she did a double-take.

  “I love to fly,” he said as an introduction. “I think about it all the time. It’s my passion. My life. My dream. No, it’s more than that; it’s my dreams.”

  Fennel showed that she had no idea why he was saying that. “Is this about a report?” she offered.

  “No, I just wanted to tell you. I’m Bennet. I’m in sales. But I’m more than that. I’m a dreamer, with big dreams.”

  Fennel looked around, either to see if anyone else could hear, or for backup. “I need to finish a letter for Mr Fearnsdale,” she said without looking at him. “He can’t see me talking to you.” She then thought she should add, “I’m Fennel.”

  “Fennel, would you like to join me for dinner? I would love to tell you about my flight adventures.”

  That got her attention. “Your flight ...?”

  “Yes, flight adventures
. Not being too forward, am I? It’s just that I heard your boss has a fear of flying, and I thought I might be able to help, with some of my stories. If you like them, then perhaps you could pass them on to him?”

  “Are you inviting me to dinner?”

  Her question contained no hostility and Bennet could see that he had a breakthrough. She appeared to be flattered to be asked and was not adverse to the idea. He knew that he needed to quickly follow up with the right words or phrase, maybe something witty and funny. If he could just make her laugh—just a little laugh was enough—then he would be sure it would all work out.

  Maybe he could teach her to fly with him. They would be a couple like no one has ever seen before. But he was getting ahead of himself.

  He tried to imagine what Darrel would say to her, to get her to laugh and maybe offer a clever response of her own. It would be nothing that might cause embarrassment, or potentially upset her. Just a cute remark that would put her at ease, to show that he was a nice guy and that she could trust him.

  “Yes,” was all he could come up with.

  “Dinner sounds very nice, thank you,” she said with a polite smile. “And if you can give me some advice on flying, then I will look forward to that. Unfortunately, it cannot be late, since I need to educate my cats tonight. They’ve been doing very well, and I don’t want to miss a night, since they don’t like getting out of their routine.”

  Bennet chose to not ask her what she was talking about, since he knew not to risk offending her. “Then I will go now and book a table,” he said. “For an early meal.”

  When he returned to Darrel and their cubicle he was beginning to shake all over.

  “No good?” Darrel asked. He had one foot up on his desk, the other over his knee in a seemingly uncomfortable position, reading a newspaper and eating a donut.

  “I have a problem.”

  “Have you tried dating websites?”

  “No, my problem is, I need to think up stories of flying adventures.”

  “I don’t know if I should even ask what that means.”

  “I have plenty of adventures I want to do, but haven’t yet. If I tell her those, it might sound a little strange, since they haven’t happened yet. What do you think? Should I tell her about my future flying or just what I’ve done so far?”

  “Or you would talk about the weather. Your call.”