JAKE
John sat comfortably in the seat across from me on our chartered flight back from Texas. We’d both had three whiskeys since boarding and had toasted to our own peace of mind with each one. No more looking in the rearview mirror at our childhoods. No more blaming others for my own shit.
It was time to grow the hell up.
John eyed the front page of a newspaper splayed open on another passenger’s lap. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward to get a better look.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
John cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
The woman reading the paper peered over the top of the page at him. “Can I help you?”
“Do you mind if I take a look at the cover picture?”
She frowned.
“It’s important,” John said. “I’ll give it back.”
“Fine.” She removed the front page and the front page only and handed it to him.
John fanned it open, folded it in half, and handed it to me. “Is that your girl?”
“What?”
He pointed to the black and white image of a young woman in a pantsuit with a dark bob haircut surrounded by people. Behind her, a truck was parked on the roof of a sedan.
And it was on fire.
“Holy shit.” I tore the page out of his hand and peered closely at it. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“What’s the date on that?”
“Monday.”
John’s eyebrows lifted. “Dude.”
I let the page fall to my lap. “The day she missed the deadline.”
“She was saving people from a car wreck?” He grabbed the paper again. “You’re in love with a heroine.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “And I yelled at her about documents. She’d just saved lives, and I yelled at her? What the hell is wrong with me?”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have! She showed up covered in soot, and my first reaction is that she stopped to roll in dirt. What the hell is wrong with me, John?”
He licked his lips. “Do you actually want me to answer, or was that rhetorical?”
The woman in the other seat drummed her fingers on her armrest. “May I have my paper back, please?”
I handed it over. She gave me a snide look before returning to her reading.
“I have to see her,” I said. “I have to apologize. I have to—fuck. I messed everything up.”
“That’s why you went to Texas. You’re fixing your mess, but you can only handle one at a time.” He checked the time on his watch. “We’ll land at four o’clock, which means we should be out of the airport by five. I’ll drive you to her, if you want.”
“She’s not going to want to hear it.”