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Afraid to Fly (Anchor Point #2)(37)

By:L.A. Witt


"Oh hell, I don't know." He started putting his belt back on. "I was too busy trying to kill him with my mind to actually listen to what he was saying."

I laughed. "You and all the people behind you. What a dick."

"One in every airport."

"Joy. Well, we should get to the gate, so-"

"Wait. One more thing I need to do now that we're through security . . ." He pulled the TENS unit out of his carry-on. "Time to put this back on."

"Oh. I thought your back was doing okay today."

"It is." He tugged the back of his shirt free from his pants. "But I want to keep it that way, and planes tend to aggravate things, so . . ." He reached back to attach one of the wires. "I would've had it on already, but I wore it through security once. Won't make that mistake again."

"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 friends, 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.