Playboy Pilot (37 page)

“Perky…”

Tears began to fill my eyes, and I refused to let them spill over. My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that my knuckles turned white.

He continued, “I had a great time.”

Hearing the start of his blow off, my sadness suddenly morphed into anger. “Don’t you dare, Carter. I know I screwed up. But don’t you dare spend the night with me and then give me the Captain Carter Clynes flight attendant blow off special.” I finally turned to face him. “I love you. I never stopped. And I know down deep you still love me, too. So don’t cheapen what we have by treating me like one of your harem…one of your flight attendant fucks. Tell me it’s over if you want, but give me that much respect at least.”

Carter hung his head. His voice was soft and strained when he spoke again. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to do.”

Just then, a loud knock on the passenger window startled me. It was airport security telling us we needed to drop off and move along. Carter told him we’d be done in a minute and then reached for my hand. “I’ll call you. Okay, beautiful?”

“When?”

Again, he looked away. “I don’t know.”

I wanted so much to savor the last kiss he gave me. But I couldn’t. Everything was numb. He brushed his lips softly against mine and then cupped my face in both hands. “
Yesterday
,” he whispered.

I smiled and nodded. The Beatles summed up our moment perfectly. Love coming back made
Yesterday
seem so much easier. But what would tomorrow bring?

“THIS IS YOUR SECOND VISIT
in a week. Did something happen to bring you back here today?” Dr. Lemmon asked.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Is the trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?”

“Both. I have this incredible energy inside of me, and I just can’t seem to get rid of it.”

“How do you normally burn off excess energy?”

“That’s not an option.”

Dr. Lemmon nodded like I’d just given her the answer even though I hadn’t said shit. “So let’s talk about that. Am I wrong in assuming that in the past you used sex as a way of relaxing yourself enough to rest?”

“You’re not wrong about that.”

“And when you say
it’s not an option
, I’m assuming that isn’t in the literal sense. You’re a good-looking pilot. Options must be boundless.”

“No, I didn’t mean there weren’t any options. I meant I wouldn’t be taking any of the available options.”

“So it’s been what, a week now since you and Kendall spent the night together?”

“One week today.”

“And it’s been three days since you were here.”

“You want me to put this crap on a calendar for you?”

Dr. Lemmon smiled. “No, I think I got it now. Have you spoken to Kendall recently?”

“Just that one time I already told you about. When she called me.”

“What night was it when you spoke to her, again?”

What the hell was with this woman and her dates today? I thought back. I’d just landed in Florida from my Dubai flight when she called, so it must have been Tuesday. “Tuesday.”

“And you spoke for about an hour, if I recall correctly.”

“Give or take, yeah.”

“And how did you sleep that night?”

Let’s see. Kendall and I had spoken the entire drive home and then while I made a sandwich in my apartment. I’d woken up the next morning still in my uniform at almost ten. “That was my last good night of sleep. But I was tired from a long flight.”

“Did you fly yesterday?”

“I did.”

“For how many hours?”

“Nine.”

“And how many hours was the flight you were tired from when you spoke to Kendall that night you slept well?”

“About the same.”

Dr. Lemmon just stared at me.

“So you’re saying that I can’t sleep without talking to Kendall anymore?”

“I’m saying that the two are very likely connected. You’re feeling anxiety. Unsettled. Nervous. All of which is keeping you from sleeping. Is there any other reason for you to be feeling this way, other than how you left things after your encounter with Kendall?”

It annoyed the shit out of me that she was so right. “No.”

“Well there you go.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Call her every night so she can sing me a lullaby?”

“You already know what you need to do.”

“So what the hell am I paying you for if I already know all the answers?” I let out a frustrated sigh.

“You need to make a decision to either move forward with Kendall or cut ties. We talked about this the other day. I can help you sort out your thoughts and figure out your next steps, but only you can make the decision on whether to be with the woman you love or not. You have trust issues with Kendall. It’s understandable. She left you once, and you’re afraid she’ll do it again when things get tough.” Dr. Lemmon took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Carter, Lucy had a disease.”

“Lucy? We’re talking about Kendall here, Doc.”

“The two are very much intertwined. In our previous sessions, you admitted you felt like Lucy took the easy way out with her suicide. That is a common misconception of the loved ones left behind. But the truth of the matter is that people who commit suicide believe there is no other choice. Depression is a disease, not unlike asthma, measles or the Plague. If left untreated, they all get worse, and eventually the disease takes the life.”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “Okay. But I don’t understand what this all has to do with Kendall.”

“You’ve had two special women in your life. Lucy, who you perceive left you when things got tough. And Kendall, who did the same. You’re afraid of it happening again.”

I wasn’t sure she was right, but I felt drained and wanted the conversation to move on. “So bottom line, I need to make a decision on whether I can trust Kendall again, or I’m never going to sleep?”

Dr. Lemmon chuckled. “I can prescribe you something to help you sleep at night in the short term. But other than that…shit or get off the pot.”

Shit or get off the pot?
I was paying two hundred and fifty dollars an hour for advice my father gave me in third grade.

I WAS AFRAID TO TAKE
the sleeping pills. Even though I’d filled the prescription, the warning label had cautioned against driving heavy machinery for twenty-four hours after taking the medicine. I’d say my Boeing 747 qualified as pretty heavy machinery, and since I had a flight tomorrow afternoon, I needed to find other ways to wear myself out to get some sleep.

After running five miles around the outskirts of my development, I decided to stop in and check on Gordon again. Unfortunately, the visit had only made me feel worse. I wasn’t an expert by any means, but he seemed to be deteriorating a little more each day. His ankles were constantly filled with fluid, and tonight he had trouble wiggling his toes on one foot. Even though it was after hours, I’d called his doctor to give him an update. He’d basically told me that I should just try to make sure he was comfortable, that there wasn’t too much more they could do for a man of Gordon’s age and health.

It was late by the time I arrived back at my apartment. Feeling an intense sadness over how things were progressing with Gordon, I wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and call Kendall. Other than Dr. Lemmon, she was the only person I’d ever really opened up to in my life. I knew she’d understand how I felt. But that wasn’t fair to do to her. I needed to figure out if I can see a future for us before unloading my depressing shit on her.

The fucked up thing was, I didn’t know how to see a future for us. Yet I couldn’t see a future for me
without her
. I was stuck in purgatory.
Story of my life.

At midnight, I decided to pack my bag for my flight the next morning. Muriel had washed and starched all of my uniforms, even though I’d told her it wasn’t necessary a million times. What I loved about the people here at Silver Shores was that they knew they needed help at times, yet they never wanted to take it for free. It made them feel good to barter things I could use in return. They were good people.

My closet was filled with crisply pressed shirts. I grabbed three and folded them into my bag. I’d lost a little weight over the last few months, so I pushed my size extra large jackets to the side and reached farther into the closet to fish out a size large that was stashed in the back.

The hanger I’d grabbed had a smaller jacket on it alright. Only it was about forty sizes too small. In my hand was the little pilot uniform that I’d found in Kendall’s closet when I’d went looking for clues in her bedroom. I’d tucked it under my shirt and taken it with me for some reason that day. After I arrived back home, it made me angry to see it every day, so eventually I pushed it in the back where I couldn’t see it. Yet I never got rid of it.

I stared at the little uniform for a long time. Visions of a little tow-haired boy wearing it as he ran circles around his mother while laughing were clear as day. The boy had bright blue eyes just like his mother. And Kendall looked more beautiful than ever. I actually closed my eyes and smiled watching the scene play out in my head.

That night, I slept like a baby. I dreamt of that little boy and his mother. It was so vivid, so real, that I was confused when I woke up. For a moment I expected them to come running into my bedroom.

But they didn’t.

Which caused a gnawing ache in my chest.

And that was all on me.

As I rushed to get ready for my flight, the little pilot’s suit was still laying on top of my dresser. I rubbed my finger over the little wings on the lapel and remembered the face of the little boy from my dream. Unpinning the little wings from the child’s jacket, I swapped it with the wings on my own uniform. They weren’t that different in appearance, yet they’d made all the difference to me.

I could
see
my future.

I could
see
my family.

I could
see
the woman I loved.

Now I just needed to figure out how to make things right again.