She tilts her head. “Still doesn’t help.”
“RC as in radio-controlled. People fly planes, helicopters, and drones. It’s kind of fun.”
“Did you pick up a new hobby? Because that still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”
“No,” I laugh, unbuckling my seat belt. “Come on. I’ll show you.” I step out, the gentle wind tugging at my hair, and she follows, slower but curious. “Do you want me to grab your wheelchair? There’s some walking, but not a ton.”
She taps her cane against the pavement. “This will do.”
The park is quiet in the late afternoon, all sun-warmed grass stretching beneath a wide blue sky. The fall leaves are at their peak, blazing gold, red, and orange, their colors even more vivid against the clear sky as if the trees are putting on one last brilliant show before the cold settles in. A breeze threads through the trees, carrying a fresh outdoorsy scent that once meant weekend hikes but now mostly means what Mom can’t do anymore. We walk side by side until I spot Miles hunched over a table, his gear laid out in precise little rows.
“Hey, Miles,” I call out.
He looks up. A few strands of hair fall into his eyes, and he pushes them back, the corner of his mouth lifting as he slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The movement is effortless, and it does something to my insides.
“This is my mom,” I say.
He straightens immediately. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Callahan.” He holds out his hand.
She studies it for a beat before shaking it, then looks up at him, amused. “Call me Diane.” Her gaze flicks around us. “So what is this place?”
Miles gives her a quick rundown of the RC park and explains that he’s a certified drone pilot. He’s completely at ease as he talks about his work. I brace for a random fact to pop out at any second. It never does.
“I also brought chairs so you can sit.” He gestures toward two open camp chairs beside the table. “Sometimes it’s easier to sit with the goggles on. Helps prevent motion sickness.”
“Goggles?” Mom looks between me and Miles.
“Yeah,” I interject like I’ve done this a million times. “Miles has goggles you can wear while he flies, so you’ll get a bird’s-eye perspective of the world.”
“Like a scenic tour?” Mom asks.
Miles nods. “Sort of. But our tour will be at one hundred and forty feet.” His gaze flicks to me. “Also, I have a cooler with snacks. Some nuts, vegetables, and hummus if anyone gets hungry.”
My heart stutters. Snacks. He brought snacks. But not only that, he brought foods my mom can eat.
“Oh, you’ve thought of everything.” Mom glances at me, her elbow connecting with my arm. She winks as Miles busies himself at the table.
“Batteries are charged,” he announces, unplugging one from the charger.
Mom wiggles her brows and points subtly between the two of us conspiratorially. I swat her hand away just as Miles spins around with a pair of goggles in his hand.
“I’ll let my mom go first,” I say.
“Actually, I brought an extra pair, so everyone can watch.” Miles steps closer and carefully settles the goggles over Mom’s eyes, adjusting the strap behind her head like he’s fitting a crown. “How’s that?”
Mom nods. “I can’t see anything.”
“I have to turn them on still,” Miles says. Then he hands me a pair, and I slide them over my eyes, snugging the strap into place. His warmth settles close beside me, crowding the space just enough that the air feels thicker. His voice brushes near my ear. “How do yours feel?”
“Good.” The words come out breathier than I intend.
“I’ll set them to the same frequency, and we’ll be ready.” He fidgets with the drone and controller for a moment. “All set.”
Mom and I settle into the chairs while Miles stands just behind my shoulder. The display flickers to life, and the field snapping into focus. Sunlight flares at the edges of the screen as blades of grass sway as if they’re waving at us. The drone hums awake, a low, steady buzz that matches the rhythm of my pulse. Then, without warning, the ground falls away. Not too fast, but smooth, like the world is letting go of us. Blue sky floods the screen, so vivid it feels unreal.
Beside me, Mom makes a sound that’s half gasp, half laugh. “Oh,” she breathes. “Oh my god.” I reach over and place my hand on hers.
The drone glides forward, slow and controlled, over the grass and toward the tree line. We soar past a cluster of wildflowers while the sunlight stripes the ground in golden ribbons.
