On Little Wings (6 page)

On the night before my morning plane departure, I eased her bedroom door open and slipped into her room. The light from her bedside lamp made an uneven, yellow circle of light across her blanket and left half of her face in shadow. She was reading with a look of deep concentration, almost certainly trying to distract herself from the thoughts broiling in her brain.

“Mama?” I only call her that when I am feeling particularly small and needy.

“Uh huh?”

I crawled up beside her and leaned my head against the headboard. “Good book?”

“It’s fine.” She pulled off her black reading glasses, loosening the dark hair around her face and letting it swing freely.

“I’m going to miss you tomorrow.” Other than short vacations with Cleo’s family and slumber parties, I had never been away from her. I’d never had anywhere else to go. She stared at the paisley pattern of her blanket and didn’t answer. “I just wondered if you want me to tell her” – I tried not to use Sarah’s name around her – “anything for you?”

Her chin quivered, but she managed to keep an impassive face. I don’t know how we sense the difference between someone thinking and someone refusing to answer, but I knew she was thinking - hard. She blew a deep breath between her lips and moved her gaze to her hands resting on her book. “No. If I ever need to say anything, I’ll say it.”

I put my head on her shoulder. “I’ll call … if you want me to.”

“I do. I’ve just been wondering,” her words came slow, “I’m wondering how much to tell you before you go and this is my last chance and I still don’t know what to say.” I held my breath and waited but she only sighed. At last she continued, faster and louder than before, “She might tell you why she did what she did and it doesn’t seem fair that you will know and I won’t.” Her voice hardened. “The difference is that you might care why and I never did. Sometimes ‘why’ doesn’t really matter.”

I swallowed timidly, “But maybe if you knew it would help you feel better.”

She barked out a soft, mirthless laugh. “I don’t think so.” Her eyes traveled up the wall and she slumped back into her pillows. “Just think of how long five days are, Jennifer. How many things you can feel in five days. How much one person can stand to lose. If you ask her anything for me you can ask her how long she thinks five days are. Unless she has a different definition of five days than I do, I don’t think I have anything else to say.”

“Five days? What was five days?” I surveyed her face, her eyes closed against the memory, her black lashes resting on the purple shadows under her eyes.

“It was me burning in hell. I waited five days for her and by the time she got there I didn’t care anymore. It was like all my love for her just incinerated in the flames. I don’t know what good it does to claw through the ashes of something that used to be.” She pushed her fingers together and pressed them between her closed eyes.

“What happened? Why were you waiting for her?” I whispered, feeling my stomach tremble with anticipation.

“Because I needed her,” she stated baldly. “I was alone in the world and I needed her. She was all I had left after grandma died. But it’s over now. I’m free of all of it. Or I was.” Her eyes opened and she scrutinized me in confusion. “I still can’t believe you’re going. I keep thinking I will wake up and it will all go away.”

My face went hot with guilt and I squirmed.

“Call us. Tomorrow. Let us know you’re okay. Let us know you’re okay every day.”

“I promise. I love you, Mom.” I kissed her head above her ear, feeling her soft hair in my face. She reached up to my cheek and pulled me close to kiss me back.

“I love you, Jennifer. I’m sorry …” she opened her arms like she was trying to hold up the universe, “for the whole mess.” I shook my head to show her I needed no apology. I climbed off the bed and reached the doorway when her voice piped up quietly, “I’m not trying to abandon you by not going to the airport tomorrow. I just can’t. There’s something about watching you go.” She shuddered instead of finishing.

“That’s okay. I understand.”

Her mouth pulled up humorlessly at one corner. “I hope you never do.” I didn’t know how to answer that so I just ducked my head and told her I loved her one more time before closing the door. I bit down on my lip as I shuffled down the dark hall, wondering what was stronger – my reasons for going or her reasons for staying.

“I put your bag by the front door. All set to go.” My father’s head rose up from his laptop when I passed the office. He had forgotten to turn the lights on (again) and his face glowed blue in the dark room. “You all right?” he asked. “Nervous?”

“I guess so,” I said as I slipped up to his desk. “When I talk to Sarah she sounds great. When I talk to Mom I think I’m going to hate her.”

My dad grinned. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I think you two will get along fine. She’s a good person. They both are.” He slid his rolling chair away from his keyboard and looked at me. “I’m sorry I can’t take you in the morning.”

“That doesn’t bother me at all. Seriously. How I get to the airport is the least of my worries.” I fingered the paperweight on top of his stack of DV magazines. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

My father smiled. He usually resorts to a bad joke when he doesn’t know the answer. I waited for the buildup but he just said, “Can I answer that when you get back?”

“Why?”

“Because I have no idea. I don’t think
you’re
doing anything wrong, but I’m not sure I was right to tell you.” His bushy eyebrows lowered in thought.

“I’m glad you did.
She
should have. I don’t understand why she didn’t.”

“I don’t think she could if she wanted to. She’s locked up those memories tight. Like a bank vault. Inside a bunker. Inside a cave. I’m hoping all of this helps her in the end.”

“Dad?

“Yeah, Babe?”

“You’ll take care of Mom? Make sure she knows I’m not doing this to hurt her?”

His eyebrows tilted with sympathy. “She knows. But yeah, I’ll watch out for her.” He opened his arms and I bent over and squeezed him tight.

“I’ll miss you,” he said.

“You, too. I love you.”

“Tell Sarah hi for me.” He smiled at me. “And tell her that I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

That made two of us.

Cleo picked me up the next day and helped me load my suitcase and carry-on duffle into the backseat of her old Corolla. I kept my eyes on the living room window, where my mother appeared briefly with a worried frown and a last wave.

“Feels weird,” I told Cleo as we left the neighborhood and headed for the highway.

“How was your mom today? Did she make you feel bad?” Cleo turned down the radio.

“She was okay. She acted nervous, but not mad. She didn’t say much.” I squeezed my hands together in my lap. The fields outside seemed to float on the horizon as the car gathered speed.

“She’s not the only one,” Cleo said after a long silence.

“Huh? Oh … sorry. I’m nervous.”

“Still want to do this?” Her eyes darted doubtfully to my face.

“What? Yes, of course!” I looked at her a moment before my expression fell. “Why? Do you think I shouldn’t?”

“No,” she sighed with exasperation. “You have to go.” The breeze from the air conditioner shifted a few loose strands of hair away from her face. “I am wildly jealous,” she confessed. “I wish I could be there.” Her lips pursed in frustration. “It will be wonderful, I’m sure. And I have to miss it.”

“But I’ll tell you everything. Every detail. Every word. I don’t want you to be sad.”

“I’m not
sad
,” she countered. “I’m just wishing. There’s a difference.” Despite her denial, she sounded wistful. I let my gaze travel up to her brooding face.

“You’re going to miss me,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, Sherlock. I’ll be bored to death without you and you’ll be on a grand adventure. Of course I’ll miss you.”

“I just didn’t think about it till now,” I admitted. Cleo gave an insulted huff and I scrambled to clarify. “I mean we’ve done all of this together. Some part of me thought that I’d get there and you would still be nineteen houses away when I wanted to talk.”

“ Nineteen hundred miles, maybe…”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not,” she said. “Just…”

“Jealous.” I finished for her with a grin.

“Jealous,” she repeated with a radiant smile. She doesn’t usually turn those smiles on the helpless population of Riverhurst. I think she frowns so often because it is the expression that invites the least attention.

“I’ll miss your face,” I told her. A reflexive shadow passed through her eyes.

“I’ll miss yours,” she said, forgiving me for the compliment.

As we pulled up to the airport, Cleo narrowed her eyes in intense concentration. She eased into the drop off lane, cut the engine and gave me a solemn look. “Remember,” she commanded while she shook her finger at me, “call me as soon as you can. Don’t forget anything so you can tell me everything. Take lots of pictures. Tell Sarah all about me because next time you go, I’m going with you.” Her smile flashed teasingly on that point, but quickly grew serious again. “If you get stuck in a riptide, swim parallel to the shore.” I gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-look but she plowed on. “And no boys. If you come home in love with some small-town, summer beach fling I will disown you. It will be like a bad scene in Grease, but without the songs. So just don’t.”

“I would never tarnish my good name like that,” I said in mock astonishment. “And it goes for you, too. No playing footsies with Barry while I’m gone.” Cleo gave me a snarl that could freeze water and I sobered. “I will tell you everything. I’ve got all my pictures to show Sarah and she’ll be sick of hearing about you.” I unbuckled my seatbelt, feeling the lightheartedness leave as I went to step out the door. Gravity seemed too strong all of a sudden, making my limbs heavy as I pulled myself out of the car. I looked at Cleo, the first signs of panic showing in my face.

“Don’t,” she commanded as she pulled my suitcase from the backseat and wheeled it to me. “You’ll be fine. Better than fine. Take deep breaths. Think of funny things.”

I grasped the telescoping handle. “I’m sorry you won’t be there.”

“I will be,” she reassured me. “At 2:00 I will be sweating bullets and walking off the plane with you. And at 2:01 I better get a phone call telling me all about it.” She was only half joking. I would have laughed but I couldn’t unclench my teeth. The
idea
of going proved much more bearable than the reality of taking these last steps.

“Go,” she pointed to the doors. “Leave me to my boring, normal life and go.” I must have looked positively helpless because she took my arm and began pushing me toward the wide automatic doors. I shook free of her grip and turned to give her a tight hug. She pried free first and gave me another gentle shove.

“If you miss your plane then you’ll have to do this all over again and it will be very anti-climactic. I love you. Go.” She kept command of her voice but her green eyes glinted with emotion.

I nodded, trying to gather my courage. “I love you, too. I’ll call you later.” I entered the airport, dodging a steady stream of travelers to look back through the glass doors. Cleo pulled back into traffic and I watched the closest thing I ever had to a sister drive away.

Going to the ticket counter and through security by myself felt too mature and foreign. I tried to keep a calm, bored face, as if I knew what I was doing, but my pulse was fluttering hard and fast inside my chest. I made my connection in Detroit after sitting in a plastic airport chair for over two hours and picking at a dry, soft pretzel. Boarding the second small plane wreaked havoc on my heart rate. Those steps had an air of finality to them because I knew that when they closed the airplane door I had only two options left: 1. Arrive in Maine and meet Sarah or 2. Die in a plane crash. I couldn’t say which one sounded scarier as I nestled tightly into my vinyl seat beside a middle aged woman. She gave me a polite smile and a nod and returned to her thick book.

I’m sure I tried to smile back, but it must have been a sickly looking thing.
Hi,
I thought to my seatmate
, my name is Jennifer. I might puke all over you during this flight, but don’t worry, I’m not airsick. I’m just having a nervous breakdown. Just hand me an oxygen mask and ignore the hysterics.
I curled my lip and gave the voice in my head a small snort. The woman looked up inquisitively and I managed a weak smile as a blush exploded up my face.
Let’s save the lunacy for when we’re alone
, I admonished myself as I grabbed the Sky Mall magazine.

As the plane lurched into the air I pushed my elbows into the seat, bracing myself, not for the flight, but for the truth. I felt it waiting for me, patiently biding its time while I made the final leg of my journey. The earth fell away from the plane as it took to the air and I saw only glimpses of the patchwork world of fields and trees from my aisle seat until we bounded into the white nothingness of the clouds. I watched the wing tip fluctuate hypnotically in the wind until the drink cart came clanking up the aisle.

When the flight attendant finished handing the woman next to me a Diet Coke she asked me animatedly what I wanted. I stared at her for a split second, bewildered how she could look so happy about drink preferences. I whispered ‘Sprite’ and started drinking before the burning bubbles stopped jumping from the glass. I breathed hard, suppressing a cough and my seat companion took the moment to study me more carefully.

“Are you alone?” She asked.

I nodded my head too enthusiastically.

“Coming or going?” She asked.

“Going,” I said as casually as I could manage. “Do you live in Maine?” I asked out of courtesy.

“No, no. I am going for a girls weekend out. No kids, no husbands. Just a spa on the coast with my girlfriend.”

“Sounds great,” I said, not really caring. “Me, too,” I added, surprising myself. “I’m going for a girl’s vacation, too. With my aunt.” I smiled, feeling my fear push ever so slightly to the side.
My aunt
felt good to say offhandedly, as if I said all the time.