Chapter Twenty-Eight Nathan
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Nathan
Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.
—ANONYMOUS
See ya, boy.” The older captain saunters out of the Seattle airport, whistling. He might as well have said See ya, sucker, because he’s the only one of our crew who had the insight to post his penalty lap in Open Time.
A “penalty lap” is what pilots call it when you finally return to your base after a multiday trip, but you’re stuck at the airport because you’re scheduled to work one more turn.
Someone else picked up that part of the captain’s shift, leaving him free to go.
Meanwhile, I have to wait here for two hours before flying twenty-eight minutes to Portland and twenty-eight minutes back.
It’s a long time to be at an airport for less than an hour’s worth of work.
I’ve spent the last three nights out of state, and it’s painful to be so close to my house but unable to go home. I just want to do my workout of the day, play fetch with Maverick, and grill a steak.
I guess I can order Steaks on a Plane from my favorite salad restaurant. The view out the giant two-story food court windows certainly beats holing up in the crew lounge.
I cart my stack of luggage after me, receive the 15 percent employee discount on my order, then give it back as a tip, and finally claim a semi-clean table facing the runway.
Rain has returned, and the tree line and mountains in the distance are varying shades of gray.
But having just experienced freezing temps in Bismarck and mid-seventies in Austin, I’ll accept this weather as a happy medium and be grateful I’m not stuck in the rain every day like most Washington residents.
I remove the lid to my plastic carton, stab a piece of steak, and stuff a smoky bite into my mouth. Life could be worse.
“Nathan.” The perky call affects me more than I want to admit.
I pound my chest to help choke down my bite and glance around for a lithe flight attendant with a bun and a button nose.
She slides into the seat across from me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I claim, then sip ice water with the hopes of bringing it to pass. There. I can breathe again.
“Good. Because I’m more than okay.” She slides back to stick a leg out my way, like a female hitchhiker trying to get attention. I must be missing something, because I’m quite certain she doesn’t want me trying to pick her up.
Her leg is slim, as you’d expect of a former ballerina. And she’s wearing black ballet flats. Also fitting. Except . . .
“You got your walking boot off.” Duh.
“I got my walking boot off!” she repeats with added enthusiasm. But then her expression drops. “Unfortunately, I’m on ready reserve. If they don’t call me out, I’m flying home for Thanksgiving tonight.”
Ready reserve is not something pilots deal with, since our union finally negotiated away the eight-hour shifts where we’re required to sit in the airport in uniform in case of emergency. Premier flight attendants haven’t had that same win yet.
“You been here long?” I ask.
“Since six a.m.” She says this with way too much energy.
More importantly, she has a couple more hours to kill. Looks as if she might be killing them with me. As someone who’s been actively avoiding her—yes, I worked another Sunday—I’m not sure how I feel about this.
She leans forward excitedly, as if to start catching up.
“I found the crew lounge by myself, but it’s a cubbyhole compared to the one in Denver.
Not even a recliner. At least I had the place to myself, so I was able to take a nap on the floor.
Then I got bored and walked laps around the airport for some exercise since I can wear normal shoes now. I’m so glad I found you.”
The nap explains part of her perkiness. “How many cups of coffee have you had?”
“Too many.” She laughs. “Passengers have been giving me Starbucks cards as tips, so it’s pretty much all the free coffee I want. What about you? Are you on ready?”
No, I’m not getting paid to hang out here the way she is. “I’m on a sit. I fly out for a Portland turn in a couple of hours.”
“Maybe they’ll call me to work that trip with you. It feels like forever since we’ve flown together.”
I smile down at my salad, wondering both why I’ve been avoiding her delightful presence and whether I should run now. “I just returned from a four-day. Charlottesville, Bismarck, Austin.”
“I’ve only had Austin. Did you go watch the millions of bats fly out from underneath the bridge?
I was able to get on a sunset boat cruise at the last minute because I was all by myself.
And it’s a good thing I was, because the woman next to me got pooped on by a bat.
Can you imagine if Angel had been sitting next to me? ”
I chuckle at the image of the Southern belle covered in guano.
Though the spectacle of a ribbon of bats streaming overhead for half an hour straight is truly an awesome sight to behold.
“I’ve seen the bats before, but they fly south before November and weren’t there during this trip. They’ll return home around March.”
She gasps and grabs her phone. I didn’t hear it ring, but maybe she has it on silent and saw it flash or something. She can’t miss a call from Crew Scheduling her first year as a flight attendant, because she’s still in her probationary period.
“Speaking of returning home . . .” She taps her screen. “Transfers are being announced today. I’m stalking the web page.”
My heart lurches at the idea of her leaving. I fight to keep my facial expression neutral. Not that she’s looking at me.
She sighs and sets her device down. “Do you know what time they’re supposed to be announced?”
My pulse settles back into its normal rhythm. “I don’t. I was based here straight out of training.”
“Lucky.” She plants an elbow on the table and her chin in her fist, giving me her full attention. It’s as cute as it is disconcerting. “When I went home a couple of weeks ago, I attended a church in the Tenderloin District.”
I smile because I already know this and because she wants to share it with me. “Surfer Captain told me.”
“Really?” She sits up straighter, eyes shining. “I was scared to attend on my own, so I’m really thankful my roommate’s crew was willing to join me.”
Me too. If I were her boyfriend, I would have been there as well, but that’s not my place. “You’ve come a long way since running away out of fear of being mugged.”
She chuckles at herself. “Surprisingly, I wasn’t afraid at all when we got there.
I mean, we saw a guy peeing on the building and witnessed a drug deal go down, but we were surrounded by so much love that those dirty streets felt more like streets of gold.
I was overwhelmed by the feeling and couldn’t sleep that night because I was too happy. ”
I study her in wonder. The day I met her, she’d been hiding from a passenger out of fear of not being able to make the other woman happy.
Then she herself had been unhappy at our cliffside resort in San Luis Obispo, where life is as good as it gets.
But now she’s found joy in serving in the darkest, ugliest places.
Whether I get to share in her life or not, this is what I’d want for her. “Happiness looks good on you.”
Her lips curve up as she meets my gaze. This time I hold it until she’s the one who looks away.
Her phone vibrates for real. She grabs it with the same eagerness as before. She taps on the screen and peers at it without emotion.
Does that mean she didn’t get transferred? Or Crew Scheduling assigned her a trip? Maybe she is going with me to Portland. “Did you get called out?”
She blinks and looks up. “Oh, no. It’s just an email about an open position for a training instructor. I didn’t realize Premier has instructors based here in Seattle. I thought they’d all be in Salt Lake, where I trained for a month.”
My chest tightens. She seems interested in the opening, and she’d have to be based here to take it. “That position must be for the recurrent training that flight attendants attend every year. It’s held in Seattle. Are you going to apply?”
I watch her expression for whatever she might not want to say. I watch with hope that she’ll stay. Which is stupid. I know she’s leaving. Even as we’re having this discussion, she’s waiting to be transferred back to San Francisco. Still, I watch.
She shrugs, though her eyes aren’t as nonchalant. There’s a spark of interest in a new opportunity. “I can’t apply until I’m through probation.”
Does that mean in a year she might be open to transferring back?
Even if she’s commuting just for work, it would up my chances of running into her again.
She’d expressed interest in being a dance instructor at one time, so she could be a really good fit as a teacher.
And she’s competent at her job compared to a lot of the flight attendants I’ve worked with.
Even when it came to how much she cared about squirting a passenger with orange juice. “You’d be good at it.”
“Thank you.” She beams. She’s dreaming again.
“The opportunity gives me something to think about. I really adore Seattle. Angel and I explored it after church last week. You know, after one of the services you skipped.” I guffaw in surprise at being called out.
Working that long trip had been punishment enough, and little good it did for my goal of avoiding her.
“You might be pleased to hear that the trip I picked up that Sunday was a nightmare.”
Her lips press together, as if hiding a smile. “And you might be pleased to hear that Angel is opening up to the idea of remarriage.”
My eyebrows jump. Not sure where that came from or how I’m supposed to respond. Claire thinks this information affects me how? “Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been skipping church, right?”
The woman is either blind or refusing to recognize my attraction to her. If I’m not in love with my ex, then I’m smitten with her roommate.
I tip my head back to laugh and to keep her from reading the vulnerability in my eyes.
“What?” she demands. “You two are cute together.”
She must think I connect with everyone the way I connect with her. How long can I stare at the cathedral ceiling, with its metal trim and exposed piping, before she gets suspicious?
The back of my neck twinges. I have to say something.
I inhale deeply and lower my chin to face Claire. “I’m taking the time I need to learn how to truly love by wanting what’s best for someone else, even if it’s not best for me.”
Her eyes clear, as if she’s just realized I’m talking about her. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. I was trying to be vague but honest. I didn’t want to put her in the middle. I know not to expect her to share my feelings. Am I ready for this conversation?
All too soon her eyes cloud. “Angel quoted you on that, and we had a long discussion. It’s a hard lesson.
” She peers out to where the planes are landing.
Her lips part, but it takes her a moment to speak.
“Being afraid of losing someone isn’t love, because it’s more about you.
About what you get from them. It’s selfishness. ”
My heart squeezes tight, though I’m not sure if it’s from disappointment or relief. Either way, I need to focus on the conversation we’re having rather than the one I’d been preparing to have. We’re talking about the selfishness of not wanting to say goodbye. Ouch.
“The fear itself is selfish,” I argue. For her as well as for me.
“It’s a feeling. Self-preservation. It hurts to lose someone we love.
” I look down at my salad just in case her gaze returns to mine.
The window for revealing my feelings has shut.
“But acting on that feeling is selfish when it’s not in the other person’s best interest.”
She nods. Breathes.
I peek at her, but she’s still not looking at me. I guess I had nothing to worry about there.
Her phone rings in the silence.
She answers, her face taut.
I try to tune in, but the din of surrounding conversations and live music on the other side of the cavernous room grow louder to fill the void.
Claire’s eyes wander aimlessly. “Are you serious?”
I rub my jaw impatiently. My pulse ticks out the seconds.
“Thank you for calling,” she says in a tone that still doesn’t tell me anything. “Okay. Bye.”
She sets the phone down between us and stares at me in a daze.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Brittany called to let me know I’ve been transferred.”
Then why is she just sitting there? This is what she’s been talking about from the day I met her. “That’s great, right?”
She must be stunned. Finally she squeals and reaches to squeeze my hands.
I squeeze in return, afraid to let go. But even more afraid to hold her back.