I distract myself by watching the landscape beneath us. My favorite are the lakes. I enjoy how I can see the shadows of clouds pass over the blue green water.
George points out the airport, and I study the stretch of landing space.
No cars to dodge this time, thank goodness.
We circle once, then George guides us in. My heart rate picks up as the ground grows closer, as the nose appears to point at too-dramatic an angle for us to land safely. But he’s a pro, and our wheels touch down so gently it takes me a moment to realize that yes, we are on the ground, rolling slowly to a stop.
And like before, George uses the foot pedals to guide us down the yellow-lined lanes, maneuvering the Cessna back to its spot among a crowd of other aircraft.
Finally, he turns off the engine, and the world grows quiet around us.
Unlike the last time, when he was in a rush to get me out of the plane, George sits quietly beside me, and I’m the one who takes off my own headset. He follows suit but doesn’t make another move, although I’m sure there’s plenty that needs to be done to put the plane away.
“How was that?” he asks, his stern voice revealing no emotion.
“That was…”
Are there even words?
It was everything I thought it would be. Terrifying. Amazing.
Heartbreaking.
Whatever fear lingers, it won’t keep me out of the air in the future. I know that now.
But there’s plenty of other things that will.
Lack of time.
Lack of money.
Guilt.
I don’t manage to finish my sentence. Still, I offer George a smile, and I force myself to forget how he feels about me for the length of time it takes to say a heartfelt “Thank you.”
His reaction to my words stays hidden behind his sunglasses, and maybe that’s for the best.
I busy myself undoing my buckle and unplugging my headset.
“Do you want to help me tie down the plane?” George asks. “If not, you can—”
“Yes,” I interrupt what was likely an offer for me to go ahead and leave. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to this yet.
George jerks his head in a nod, and for the next few minutes we work through the necessary tasks. Recording the Hobbs meter time in the aircraft logbook, tying down the plane, cleaning bugs off the windshield before working together to put on the aircraft cover, and popping the cowl plug into the slots I’ve always thought looked like the plane’s nostrils.
We’re quiet as we work other than the quick instructions George doles out, and I find the process a weird combination of meditative and inspiring.
“I’m going to stow these in the hangar.” George holds up the plane’s keys. “Don’t leave yet.”
“Okay.” The plane looks good and tucked in, but maybe he has something else to show me or that an extra set of hands would make easier. As the man stalks off, I turn to face the runway, smiling when I spot a jet taxiing onto it. The fancy airliner is probably similar to what Shawn and George are always flying out on for BnB business. The company has jets at all the local airports, like Culpeper Regional and Leesburg Executive Airport. This one is actually the farthest drive from the city, and yet it’s the one my brother uses most often. Maybe the more conveniently located planes are only for customers. Whatever the reason, I’m glad Shawn’s flights leave from Middleburg Regional Airport because it means he stops by Cornfield’s more often.
Watching the jet take off is a glorious thing, and I wonder what it would be like to sit in the cockpit of one of those.
“I flew,” I say, and sigh with a happy grin, deciding to revel in the joy of the moment rather than agonize over the future. Spreading my arms wide, like I’m an airplane myself, I tilt my head back and let the spring sunshine warm my skin.
Giddiness fills me to the point that I can’t help a little spin.
Only for my hand to slam into something hard.
