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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Mystery · #1298816
a mysterious plane ride, family, and story: tell me, do you think you know who dies?
8:13am February 18th 1995 Airport in Orlando, Florida: Flight Cancelled.

Thank god we held onto the rental car! Jean Plum thought as she watched panicking vacationers in various multi-colored luau shirts wait for their turn at the phone booths. She had seen two women arguing already about who had spotted an empty table first, and held her daughter Susan especially close when she saw a mousy teenager with graying hair and a spiky mustache eyeing the bickering womens’ carry-ons. A little yelp came from Susan when they headed towards the door and mixed with the rumbling of the over laden luggage conveyor. “I don’t like Florida” she said. “They don’t let us leave.” “Don’t worry honey,” Jean replied. “I’m just going to give Daddy a call, you want to talk to Daddy?”

8:15am February 18th 1995 Airport in Orlando, Florida, Phone booth #2a: Flight Cancelled Indefinitely.

“Patrick? Hi, it’s me.”
         “What’s going on? Is Susan okay?”
“What? Oh…yes. Yes she’s fine. Um actually it’s our flight.
It got cancelled. Something about snow…? What’s going on in Philadelphia?”
         “It hasn’t started yet, but the news is calling for some serious storms tomorrow morning. I thought the flight would be able to beat the storm. Have you asked to get on an earlier flight?”
         “Everything’s booked. I tried….”
         “What about connecting flights? Hell, you could get in a cargo flight, they have to keep running, don’t they? What about Susan? How’s she taking this?”
         “Well she really doesn’t understand why we can’t fly because of snow when she was playing on the beach today—she’s 5. I bought her this really cute flowery bikini with ruffles at the bottom, she chased the waves all afternoon long. She’s getting so big, I still have no idea where she gets the curls from…”
         “Flights?”
         “What?”
         “Flights. We were talking about flights. Like when you were going to get one. And when you’d be back home. I still can’t believe you went to this midget wedding, even if you are related. Wasn’t Susan about as tall as the bride? I’ve been home for three days taking care of Johnny, and now with the snow, I don’t know how I’m going to get this proposal done.”
         “You have Sophia. She knows what to do with Johnny and can help around the house. That’s what au pairs are for. But even so, I hope you haven’t been troubling her too much.”
         “What’s that supposed to mean?”
         “Nothing, just you should know how to take care of him by now. He is three years old, after all.”
         “Just get home. Now.”

8:26am February 18th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Smooth Sailing

Patrick clicked the phone off and stretched back in his chair. The snow was just beginning to dance off the windowpanes. There must be a song about this he thought I just can’t concentrate today. Patrick stretched his arms back and then tapped the phone three times on his head, elongating the shadows over his bare desk. Until three days ago, Patrick had never used this office, and it showed: the only decoration was a picture from their honeymoon, the one where his wife was being held upside down to kiss the Blarney stone. He hated that picture; his wife being cradled, supported, and trusted by a man they had met 5 minutes beforehand. (It took me three dates to get the first kiss he thought). His wife loved it. Tomorrow, Patrick decided, he would go shopping for a new lamp, a new clock, and definitely a new picture.

10:28am February 19th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia (abandoned): Not on schedule.

A good twelve inches of snow blanketed the city, leftover stardust from the night before. Patrick liked the fact that he couldn’t use the car, or anyone else for that matter—it made him feel like he was back in his hometown in Vermont, where the true test of a man was how insulated his snow boots were, and storms were never called warnings on the news. ‘City-dwellers are weak’ his father used to say, ‘but they’re also rich’. Strapping up the metal buckles on his army boots, Patrick pushed open the door and set out into the reborn city. He was able to forget for a little while than he had given up his chase of the wilderness for the chase of the green.

8:56pm February 19th 1995 Direct Flight from Orlando to Philadelphia: Disconnected.

“Hey, Patrick? It’s me.”
         “You have a flight yet?”
         “Well…no. The airports are really overbooked right now.”
         It had been a good day. Patrick had bought some strings of lights shaped like beer bottles from the liquor store, and was nursing a similar bottle in his left hand at the moment. The Blarney stone photo had been replaced by a poster of the sun setting over the Rocky Mountains, and a clock with a vintage Coca-Cola symbol in the background was keeping a good rhythm to his workspace—as good as this all may be, Patrick was still hoping he would not have to work there much longer.
         “So what’s the plan?”
         “Well we still have our rental car, and Susan and I stayed over in the inn again. Right now, we just have to wait it out and see. How’s the snow? How’s Johnny?”
         “Johnny’s fine. Sophia took care of him today, I had a lot of work to do. How much longer do you think this is going to take? I really need to get back to work.”
         “Hopefully only a few more days. A week, tops.”
         “A week?! What about other airlines, other flights? You must be able to get something close to Philadelphia!”
         “I tried. Everything’s booked. You’re just going to have to wait…”
         The phone crackled off, the beer lights popped and the office plunged into darkness. The snow was blanketing the sky, literally lighting up the room with the reflecting moonlight, but only enough so Patrick could see the jagged edges of the mountaintops on his poster and the outline of his boots kicked up on the desk. He noticed a sharp pain in his neck, and realized he had been pressing the phone so hard into the crook of his neck that he was finding it hard to breathe. The lights flickered back on, and Patrick turned his ear back towards the phone, but only got static. The door creaked open behind him, and he dropped the phone.
         “Mr. Plum?”
         It was Sophia, the au pair.
         “Are you okay? The power went out for a little bit there. I heated up the milk for Johnny’s bottle, but we’re running low on diapers and it’s awfully cold down in the basement. When is Mrs. Plum coming home?”
         “Maybe not for a week. Damn it. Alright, we’ll sit tight tonight, and tomorrow check the circuit downstairs. You can take the other blankets from the living room—Johnny can sleep with me.”

8:52pm February 21st 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Flight Change

“Mr. Plum, could I ask you something?”
“What, Sophia?”
“Could I go to my boyfriend’s house this weekend?”
“Sophia, I know the snowstorm has stopped, but the streets are still not clear. How are you planning on getting there?”
“It’s only a few blocks over. I was going to walk. Would that be too much trouble to leave you with Johnny for a night?”
“I’m fine with you going to your boyfriend’s house, and of course I will be fine with Johnny…but at least go tomorrow morning when it is light out. I know it is only a few blocks, but this is a city.”
“Okay.”

11:28pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Refund Guaranteed

“Are you sure? Because if you’re jealous, then I won’t go.”
“Jealous? What are you talking about?”
The phone began to ring.
“Hold on.”

12:56pm February 20th 1995 Happy Trails Inn, Suite 3, Orlando, Florida Flight #2 to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Inconclusive Timing at this Time
         
“Hey honey it’s us.”
“Oh it’s so good to hear from you, how is Susan doing?”
“Susan seems to be enjoying herself: she is jumping back and forth between the two twin beds while watching Mickey Mouse fly with the Wright Bros. on the Disney Channel.”
“I can fly Mommy I can fly!” Susan shrieks mid-air.
“Have to hand it to Disney,” Jean whispered to Patrick, “to fuel little kid’s fantasies with historical inaccuracies. The Wright Bros. were interesting enough on their own. Why do children need a cartoon mouse to make it more appealing?”
“Mommy when can we really fly?”
“Soon, baby, soon.”
Patrick grumbled. “It better be soon.”
“Mommy when can we see Daddy and Johnny and Sophia?”
“Soon, honey.”
“When’s soon?”
“In a few days. When there’s an airplane ready to take us.”
“But I want to talk to Daddy now! I want to tell him about my bathing suit.”
“Here, you can talk to him now, on the phone.”
         “Mr. Plum I need to ask you something.”
         Patrick was startled and dropped the phone. He looked up and saw Sophia peering over the couch at him, and he heard Johnny screaming in the background.
         “I need your help.”
         Patrick picked up the phone, but it was only static on the other end. 
“Alright. What do you want?”

11:32pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Channel Change

“I want to know why you lied to me.”
“What do you mean? I’ve never lied to you, why would I lie to you?”
“You told me you loved me. Last night. As we curled up under the blankets to keep warm, you told me you loved me.”
“Well…yes. But I was drunk. And I missed my wife.”
“You said you loved me. You said that now that your wife was gone, it would be easier to leave all this behind—for me.”
“You’re right. You are my love. But this is my life.”
“The two are not inseparable. You must choose.”

11:46pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Same Channel different Airway

“Damn you woman! What do you want from me?”
“You know exactly what I want. Look, now would be the easiest time.”          
“You’re blackmailing me!! Sophia I’m going to kill you, I mean it this time, if you keep this up!”
“I…”
“Don’t take another step!” He pulls a gun out of the  desk drawer.
“Wha…What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you might want to leave. Now.”

1:00pm February 20th 1995 En Route from Philadelphia to Orlando: Communication Lines Down

(****Static*****)
         I wonder if they lost power Jean thought.

11:47pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Departure

Gunshots and car alarms ricocheted around the room.
Classic hit Patrick thought.

11:48pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Emergency Exit

It takes Patrick a few minutes from the adrenaline rush to realize his son is crying in the next room.
“Don’t move. I’m going to go check on him.”
Cheshire silently watches his owner hurry out of the room, and turns his gaze lackadaisically towards the TV screen.

11:00pm February 20th 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Crash Landing

It felt like forever since Patrick had slept. Didn’t Johnny ever stop crying? He settled down into his chair and flicked on the television. The door creaked open. The TV flickered and Patrick looked up: he heard the soft pad of feet and thought it was Susan, but realized she was miles away in Florida. A fuzzy Gremlin colored blue by the TV glow jumped up into his lap: it was the cat. Patrick sighed. 
“C’mon, Cheshire. Let’s see what’s on.”
It was a murder mystery: The type Sophia loved to watch, but Patrick had never taken any particular interest in them. These crazy writers never think of anything that could actually happen he thought, laughing. He didn’t even realize he was absorbed in the plot line until the phone rang at the same time it rang during the show…why does that always seem to happen? He thought.

5:06pm February 22nd 1995 Philadelphia Airport, Phone booth #3b: System Check

“Patrick?”
“What??? Who’s there??”
“Jeez just because you haven’t heard from me in three days, you forget my voice?”
“Oh…hey honey. No, sorry, just a little distracted.”
“Well we made it back! Susan and I are in the Philadelphia airport now! Susan can’t wait to see you…she wants to show off her new fashion wear, the frilly bathing suit is a crowd favorite down in Florida, and I’m sure once the weather clears up here too she’ll never take it off…do you think you could come pick us up?”
“What? Where?”
“Come. To the airport? Patrick what’s the matter with you? I hear Johnny crying in the background. Is everything alright?”
”Yes. Everything’s under control. Just, do you think you could grab a taxi? Johnny needs some attention right now.”
“Of course. We’ll see you soon….”
Click.

5:12pm February 22nd 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia: Emergency Overload

Patrick hurries around the house. The Philadelphia airport is 15 minutes away, but factor in the snow, and the limited amount of taxis, and baggage, and traffic…he could bank on 30 to 45 minutes, easy. But timing needed to be exact. Limited time, limited warning, to make the house presentable. And all the time Johnny just keeps crying and crying.
I got rid of Sophia at the wrong time, he laughed to himself. I’m not cut out for playing the housewife.
I should have made her clean first.


5:47pm February 22nd 1995 427 South Street, Philadelphia (maybe lost, maybe found): Right on time

Susan takes a look around the house.
“Is Sophia gone?”




© Copyright 2007 Colleen Brogan (beachboxer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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