Dale Nelson takes his kids out to Kansas City International airport on Sunday afternoons while his wife works at Katz drugstore downtown. The boy is eight, the girl four. He likes to watch planes soar overhead, streaks of silver across the blue. Sometimes those approaching seem still, as if contemplating whether they should remain aloft or descend. He’s never been inside an aircraft but photos of the new Boeing 727 hang along the walls of the corridor that leads to the observation deck. He tries to imagine what it would be like to sit in one of those seats. Escape the hold of gravity. Touch a sliver of sky.
“I’m going to get on one of those things someday,” Dale says to his kids, a fever in his eyes.
This afternoon, the last Sunday in April, wisps of plane tailings drift in slender lines and fat swirls that look like feathers and the air feels as if winter is finally over. They dress in their best clothes, Dale in shirt, tie and jacket as if he’s a businessman or lawyer, anything but a janitor who cleans up other people’s messes. The little girl wears a red and white polka dotted dress and black patent leather shoes with white ankle socks, the boy navy blue pants and white shirt. Dale brings a large brown, fake-leather suitcase with him, the corners frayed, a buckle broken and two thick strands of rope wrap around it twice. He walks quickly, the kids several feet behind him. The terminal is quiet, nearly empty. Instead of heading directly to the area that leads to the gates and observation deck he goes to the TWA ticket counter.
“Where’s the next plane out going?”
“There’s a flight to St. Louis in an hour,” the agent, a woman with a short honey-blond, beehive hairstyle, says. The letters TWA are embroidered in red across the pocket of her white short-sleeved blouse, a gold pendant shaped like wings pinned beneath them.
Dale takes some bills out of his wallet. Counts them twice and hands them to her.
“One ticket,” he says.
The agent looks at the kids, but doesn’t say anything. Dale places his suitcase on the scale at the counter. The agent tags it then hands him his ticket and boarding pass. Dale holds the small hands of his kids, one on each side of him. They walk through the checkpoint, no line, hardly anything in the way of security. Just a nod and smile from the airport worker. The boy looks at him as they walk. Their eyes meet and Dale sees the questions in his son’s eyes. The questions that will not be asked, the questions he couldn’t answer. When they get to the boarding area he lets go of the boy’s hand and squats before them. From his jacket pocket he takes an envelope with writing on the outside and some bills and loose coins inside. He hands the envelope to the boy.
“This is the phone number for where your mom works,” he says. “Call her. Tell her to come on down here and get you two.”
Then he gives the boy his car keys. “Keep these in your pocket until she gets here.”
The loud speaker announces boarding for the flight to St. Louis. The little girl looks frightened. She squeezes Dale’s hand and won’t let go. He pulls his hand away from hers, but holds her close and kisses her forehead. Runs his fingers through her soft, wavy brown hair that smells of baby shampoo.
“Be a good girl. And remember Daddy loves you more than anything.”
She nods, her eyes watery, the flesh around her lips puckers. Something comes apart inside of him but he ignores it; so much is already broken.
He gives the boy a hug, “You take care of your sister.”
The boy takes his sister’s hand. The loudspeaker calls final boarding. Dale stands, straightens his tie and walks to the TWA agent who collects his boarding pass. He looks back one time at his kids then proceeds through the glass doors, across the tarmac and climbs the stairs to the aircraft.
Roxanne Lynn Doty has recently published short stories in Forge Winter 2014 (www.forge.journal.com); Four Chambers Literary Magazine, Issue 1, Dec. 2013; Soundings Review Winter 2015 and Lascaux Review May, 2015. She also published a prose poem in I70 Review Summer/Fall 2014.Two of her short stories were a finalists in the 2012 and 2014 New Letters’ Alexander Patterson Cappon Prize for Fiction.
The post Flight by Roxanne Doty appeared first on Microliterature.