“Elaine, we’re going to miss the flight.”
“At this point, I don’t care about the flight.”
His eyes finally met mine. I saw fear there.
Not fear of flying. Fear of explaining.
The older pilot noticed it.
“She doesn’t know?”
Dad’s face hardened.
“Captain.”
The pilot immediately stopped talking.
Behind us, the woman spoke again.
“Some of us actually do have flights to catch.”
The supervisor turned toward her.
“Ma’am, please remain in your place.”
“I was already up there.”
A man behind her spoke.
“No, you weren’t. You cut in front of him.”
The woman’s cheeks reddened.
“I moved into an open space.”
“You pushed past him,” another passenger said.
Dad closed his eyes.
“Please. Enough.”
The captain, who introduced himself as Grant, put his cap back on.
“Thomas is right. Let’s keep the checkpoint moving.”
The supervisor returned us to our place and moved the woman behind us.
She looked furious.
Dad didn’t look at her.
After screening, the younger pilot handed Dad his jacket with both hands.
Dad folded it so the silver wings disappeared.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You’ve had them for 34 years and never told us what they were.”
