I am.
I suck in a deep, shuddering breath.
The inhale brings with it a wave of his delicious cologne. The scent isn’t overpowering yet it somehow knocks some words out of me.
“Aren’t you scared?” I croak.
George straightens, his gaze finding mine and holding. The engine roars, and the plane vibrates, and I try to keep on breathing.
Finally, he gives me an answer, though not the one I was expecting.
“Yes.”
My mouth hangs open before it snaps into motion. “Then why are we doing this?”
George blinks once, slowly, and I can tell he’s thinking over his response. When he gives it, the words are bookmarked by static.
“Sometimes the things you love are scary.”
He turns away, staring out the windshield, where I spy another plane on the runway. The aircraft looks so tiny as it picks up speed, rushing forward.
Then it’s weightless, gliding into the sky.
“Do you think you could love this, Beth?” George doesn’t look at me while he asks. “Love it more than you’re afraid?”
I don’t know. I don’t know if my love for this dream will overcome the pounding in my chest. If we’ll gain altitude and I’ll find a way to forget the terror.
But I do know one thing.
I’m more scared of never leaving the ground again.
“I’m ready.”
Chapter
6
My nails diginto my palms, and I try not to whimper or make any other embarrassing noises as George communicates on the common frequency to let other aircraft in the area know we’re heading out onto the runway.
He guides the plane smoothly, using foot pedals to turn and drive the airplane while we’re still on the ground.
Which won’t be for much longer.
Soon the nose is pointed down one long stretch of asphalt, a blue sky spread above us.
“Ready?” George’s voice presses against my eardrums.
“Just get us in the air and keep us there, Bunsen,” I snap back, my normal urge to people please suppressed by the tightening of every single one of my nerves.
The corner of his mouth ticks up, and he reaches out to give the plane full throttle. The propeller speeds, and we arrow forward, the airport passing us by.
If I’m going to die, at least this is the way I’d want to go, I think themoment before we rise.Fast, with the open sky before me, and hope mixed with the fear in my heart.
I’ve spent too much time these past few years worried about what my mom would see in the last moments of her life. Would it be Marge and me? Would it be the home we’d begun to build together?
Or would it be the off-white tiles of a hospital ceiling? The darkness of a room where she lies alone and in pain?
Terrifying as this takeoff is, I’d choose this option every time.
