Off To a Rough Start

"Chief pilot."

I nodded. "I haven't told anyone this, but, during my review last Wednesday, he asked what Brandi Grant did wrong on 771. I told him 'nothing,' then he suggested that her failure to check for heat or look through the peephole before opening the cockpit door probably should have killed us both."

"What a prick . That's a horrible thing to say⁠—"

I waved her off. "He said InterAir already amended the QRH and Boeing is being required to do the same for the entire world's fleets of 737s. I realized some good was going to come from the bad."

"That's good news," Pam said, nodding.

"But the fact that those steps weren't in the QRH then, and how he described her actions as wrong … I guess it … yeah. Meltdown. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, baby. I'm here for you. How long has it been since you've talked to someone … a professional?"

"A while. I stopped my sessions after I was given the medical all-clear and passed the psych eval. I guess this, plus considering I still have the occasional bad dream, means I might have stopped too soon."

"I can't tell you, but it never hurts to get guidance from someone who can," she said

She softly kissed me and gave me a reassuring, comforting hug.

"Thanks, Pam," I whispered.

"Any time, baby."

I considered stifling a chuckle but knew I didn't need to. She needed to see the happiness caused by something she said. I leaned back and smiled curiously at her.

"I just noticed that you've called me sweetie or baby like a half-dozen times today."

"Do you not care for that particular endearment? It doesn't mean I think you're⁠—"

"I love it, boo," I answered.

She laughed. "Nope, 'boo' is a hard pass."

She stood from her seat and held out her hands in front of me. I took them, and she pulled me to a stand. She brought me into her arms. Her embrace felt so natural. It was as perfect as the gentle kiss of compassion and reassurance she gave me.

Twenty minutes later, we sat at her table to dine.

Noting the few moving boxes sitting to the side in her living room, I asked, "How's unpacking going?"

"I covered a lot of territory after the dispatchers yeeted you out of here last night. Almost finished today. Just have a few wall hangings and knick-knacks to put out."

"Wow. Fast."

"I figured it'd take me another day or two, but I was rockin' to some music. The groove set a pace."

When she mentioned her favorite band was The Police, we discovered we both had an affinity for the '80s. We compared our Spotify playlists, laughing at how similar they were.

"My ex wasn't a fan of classic rock," she casually stated.

I don't know why I was surprised, but I was. I hadn't told her I was divorced, either. She'd crossed the threshold, and I decided to follow her through the door.

"Mine wasn't into music at all," I said, "but being a musician had nothing to do with our split."

"You're a musician?"

I sipped my iced tea and nodded. "I've played winds for something like twenty years now."

"Yeah?"

"Since middle school. When I was living in Indiana, my high school's marching band went to nationals and won third place. I play clarinet in the Frisco Community Orchestra and play alto sax in a jazz big band a guy who lives up the street from me put together a couple of years ago."

"I was a flag girl in high school and was on the drill team in college."

"You were on the whole drill team?" I teased.

"No , you dork !" she barked and playfully punched me on the shoulder.

I was busy, visually imagining.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she asked with a curious grin.

I cleared my throat. "Because I bet you looked really hot in your uniforms."

She waggled her eyebrows. "They still fit."

I didn't realize I was biting the knuckle of my middle finger until the pain told me.

She laughed sweetly when I quickly dropped my hand into my lap and chuckled nervously.

"You know what? You're sweet without even speaking," she said when she saw my reaction.

"Is that your way of telling me to be quiet?"

"No," she said, shaking her head gently. She reached across the tabletop and took my other hand in both of hers. She raised it to her face and drew it over the silky skin of her cheek. She kissed the inside of my wrist.

She fixed me in her stare. I could see her wheels turning. The fifteen seconds of silence were becoming deafening before she spoke.

"What happened?"

"What happened to what?" I asked.

"Listen. I think what we have is more than mutual attraction, and I want to explore it alongside you. I know this might be rude, but what led to your divorce?"

A part of me wanted to excuse myself and leave. Another wanted to snap at Pamela for being so presumptuous. The biggest part was me being pissed off at myself because she had the bravery to ask me the question I wanted to ask her.

"That's a little personal, isn't it?" I asked, landing somewhere in the middle.

She sighed softly. "I'll stick my neck out and go first. Do you know what an emotional affair is?"

I shook my head.

"It's a very intimate relationship, on par with a marriage, but with someone who isn't your spouse. It's called an affair because it is one, only lacking the physical part. My ex was having such a fling with his former high school sweetheart."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I knew he was friends with her, and I didn't have a problem with that. At first. What started the downhill slide was when he forgot our third anniversary. Instead of spending the evening with me, he'd gone out with a bunch of friends, including her, of course, to watch a baseball game at a sports bar. I confronted him about her. He insisted there wasn't anything going on between them, that they were just friends. Then I showed him his old iPad."

My face must have appeared puzzled because she explained further.

"We had a bin in the garage of our house in St. Louis where we'd put broken or obsolete electronics in to take for recycling. He'd upgraded his iPad and put his old one in it. He forgot to wipe it, so it was still paired to his iCloud account.

"A few days later, I was out in the garage getting something from the chest freezer. It made a tone, and the screen came on. I stood there for a half hour watching them send messages back and forth. It was deep. He told her things he'd never told me. Deeply personal things, you know?

"So … yeah. When I showed him the iPad that night, he simply played it off as if the conversation between them was nothing, but he was also pissed off because I'd 'invaded his privacy.'" She air-quoted.

"We got into an argument about what privacy in a marriage looks like. I tried to explain how I believed there should never be secrets kept from spouses, and that his accusation proved he was intentionally keeping their connection a secret.

"I asked him to distance himself from her, but he didn't see why I had a problem. I didn't think he'd slept with her, but I figured it was only a matter of time. I had to get out. It was four years ago."

"I'm sorry, Pam. I'm sorry that happened to you."

She took my hand in hers again and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I sort of wish my story was similar," I said. "I mean, I wasn't the offended one. I was the offender."

"Oh? What'd you do?" she cautiously asked.

"It's more what I didn't do. She was pushing to start our family. I wasn't ready. We were barely three years out of college, and I was busy trying to build my hours. I was still a part-time flight instructor in Indiana at that point but got an offer to go fly freight in the Caribbean full time. The tropics , you know? For a low-time pilot, it was a pretty cush job with nice accommodations."

"I'll bet."

"Well, she chose not to follow me there. I was only able to go home for one weekend each month. She got tired of it, and I wasn't willing to compromise. I took my lumps the following year when she served me with papers. I was hired by InterAir a year after that and moved back to the US. I thought, maybe, being on a normal schedule, she might take me back, but she'd already moved on.

"I … I failed her, Pam. My priorities were all wrong. I was an abject, utter failure and royally screwed her over."

She squeezed my hand again, silently processing my words.

"It sounds like you miss her."

I chuckled in reflex before answering. "It was a long time ago, so is it perverse if I still kind of do?"

"No. It's not, Mack," she answered softly. "Not at all. It shows me you're human, you have a heart, and you've learned from your mistakes."

"What would you have done differently?" I asked.

"Short of finding a crystal ball? Nothing. Three years in, I realized the man I needed to divorce wasn't the man I married."

"Yeah. I was kind of that guy just in a different way," I said.

"Come here," she said, standing.

I rose, and she took me into her arms. Her warmth was comforting and reassuring. It was at least twenty minutes before either of us spoke more words because our lips were busy kissing each other's.

I swore to myself I wouldn't repeat the sins of my past. Though our schedules sometimes made it difficult, I made Pam my priority when I wasn't working, and tried my best to do the same even when I was. There were only a few days which excluded at least a FaceTime call.

I'd kept a big "At-A-Glance" calendar on the side of my refrigerator ever since I'd earned my commercial pilot's license. From a distance, it was easy to see the highlighter marks showing my blocks of scheduled time.

When I returned home that night, I took it off its hook, turned to November, and drew four thick yellow lines across the first's square, conspicuously marking the date my new rating would go into effect.

Frisco, Texas – The McGarry Residence
Sunday, November 7, 2021 6:12 PM

Like every pilot with any rating, Pamela was required to maintain her currency, so, instead of flying as a check airman, she'd rotate off training duties to be an active line pilot every fourth month. Her next rotation was during December. We sat down at my table with our tablets to finalize our bids for that month. They were due by the ninth.

Our company added incentives to certain lines to ensure they were covered during the winter holiday travel surge. The doubled pay was the reason both Pam and I opted to bid for them. We structured our bids in such a way to maximize the dates we'd be off together. When that wouldn't work, we looked for sequences which included stopovers in the same cities on the same nights.

Both of us had the KrewBid scheduling app opened and ready.

"This isn't going to be easy," I said ruefully. I cracked my knuckles then wiggled my fingers as if I were about to play a Chopin etude on a piano.

Pam laughed at my farcical display. "Never is. Filing a bid always takes work. It's just going to take a little more to try to align ours."

"It'll be worth every minute," I offered, seeking a kiss.

"Hopefully," she said with a sweet smile after fulfilling my requested tender smooch.

Since Pamela's relative seniority as a captain was higher than mine, it was more likely her lines would be honored compared to my bids. I noticed her avoiding certain routes in an attempt to mesh our schedules together better. I felt a knot in my stomach when I realized what she was doing, and I challenged her.

"Pam, why are you dropping such choice sequences? You're making me feel bad."

She chuckled lightly. "C'mon, Mack. It wasn't so long ago I was flying to these places regularly. I'm willing to give up Cancun for Midland if it means we get more time together."

I considered Midland to be Texas's left armpit, but the genuineness of her answer and the tenderness of her smile convinced me. It warmed my heart, and I swore I'd never take her sacrifices for granted.

We spent another two hours strategizing in KrewBid. We clicked "Submit" simultaneously.

"Done. Dinner?" I suggested.

"Absolutely. Is there a White Castle nearby?"

I laughed hard. "Nope. You're living in Texas now. I'm taking you somewhere better."

We climbed into my car and went to Whataburger.

During the following week, computers hummed along in a datacenter sifting through bids submitted by ten thousand pilots and cabin crew members. Like probably everyone else, Pam and I logged in on November 15 to pull our schedules for December.

Yeah, the pay would be great, but the inhumane computers chose to keep Pam and me away from each other for twenty-three days that month. We shared a scattered five back in Dallas and managed only three stopovers together.

We made do. We had to.

Midland, Texas – Springhill Suites
Monday, December 27, 2021 8:37 PM

As soon as I checked into the hotel, I knocked on the door to Pam's room before I went to mine. I saw the shadow at her peephole's aperture and heard her yelp, "Yay!"

"Hi, baby," I said, offering her a smooch.

"Huh-uh, Mack." She embraced me tightly and offered her tongue.

As I returned her passion, I cupped her firm little butt and gave it a gentle squeeze. She was halfway through a peppermint lozenge which I stole from her. It made her laugh hard.

"You're so silly," she said, hearing me crunch it loudly.

"What time did you get in?" I asked.

"A couple of hours ago."

"I'll bet you're whipped. I know you had an early roust this morning."

"I'm okay," she said with a little twinkle in her eyes. "Let's get downstairs. The restaurant's bar stays open until eleven, but the kitchen stops taking orders at nine."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer room service. No hustle-bustle."

"I like that idea," she said, giving me an agreeable smile and nod. "Your place or mine?"

I chuckled. "I want to get out of my uni."

"I'll follow you."

Pam settled onto the sofa in my room with an audible, relaxed sigh.

After placing it on the luggage stand, I opened my case and removed a pair of jogging shorts to lounge in. My tie was set aside before I removed my uniform's shirt, pulled my undershirt from the waist of my slacks, and tugged the tail downward to smooth it.

I heard a mousy squeak from the direction of the couch. I turned and found Pam studying me instead of the menu she had on her lap. Her hand shot up and covered her mouth. Her eyebrows were high, and her gaze drifted upward until she met my eyes.

"What's wrong, Pam?" I teased, feeling a tremendous surge in my self-esteem at how she'd reacted.

She slowly shook her head then lowered her gaze back to my trunk. I grinned coyly and waggled my eyebrows before stepping into the separate bedroom to change into the shorts.

When I returned a minute later, she wordlessly beckoned me to her with a crooking forefinger.

"God, you're so hot," she said, slowly running the palms of her hands from my pecs, over my tummy to my waist, studying my form as they moved.

I sat at the end of the couch and encouraged her onto my lap so we could study the menu together. We placed our orders.

Other than the soft sounds of kisses, we spent minutes of silence in each other's arms. She rested her head on my shoulder. I simply held her warmth and listened to her breathe until our meals were delivered.

Part of the reason I suggested room service instead of eating in the restaurant was not only because I wanted to be close to her, but also to broach a potentially difficult subject.

"What's on your mind? You're acting pensive all of the sudden," she astutely observed.

I put my knife and fork onto my plate and pushed it away from me a little so I could fold my arms on the table.

"Are we doing the right thing? Are you and I being smart?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, copying my actions.

"Well, this month has been all kinds of hard, you know? Other than on our screens, we've seen each other face to face only six times. It's been difficult."

She sat more upright in her chair and put her hands in her lap. Her expressions varied as she stared at me until one stuck. She looked worried.

"Mack, are you about to break it off with me?"

"Wh⁠—no! No. I'm not. I'm only trying to ensure you and I are on the same page. Given what happened between me and my ex, I don't want you becoming impatient with me, or feel like I'm not prioritizing you. I failed before, and I don't want to again."

"I'm not sensing that at all, Mack. You make me feel loved."

Her words ricocheted in my head as she looked at me with the sweetest, most tender smile.

My smile formed slowly as the meaning of her simple yet powerful statement began to dawn. I loved how she'd cleverly and "innocently" sought a clue to where I thought we stood in our relationship.

"It's because I do. I love you, Pam."

Her smile intensified and the twinkles in her eyes shined brightly.

"I love you too, baby. We're both smart people, so we'll figure all this out."

"Oh, snap ! I can't believe I almost forgot to give you these!" I said, rising quickly from the table.

I happily skipped over to my suitcase and pulled out two packages wrapped in snowflake-printed paper.

"Merry Christmas, Pam," I said as I offered her the gifts.

She opened the top one first to find a framed photograph I'd asked a hot-dog vendor to take of us together at a Rangers versus Cardinals interleague game at Globe Life Field.

"Oh jeez, Mack. This is so thoughtful. I love it!" she said with a cute catch in her breath.

She tore into the next package and laughed delightedly. "How'd you know? These are my favorite!"

She ripped the top off the box of candies I'd bought, unwrapped one, and offered it to me. I took it from her fingers with my lips and crunched into it eagerly. We ate half the box, abandoning the rest of our dinners.

"I'll be right back," she said before dashing out my door.

A few minutes later, she was knocking on it.

"Merry Christmas to you !" she said when she stepped through it. What she handed me had heft.

I shredded the paper off to find a book.

"Awesome! Jeez, Pam! How'd you know I'm a fan?"

"I've seen your bookshelves, babe," she said with an easy laugh. "I also know the author, remember?" she said with a happy giggle.

"You get me, and all I gave you was candy."

"My favorite candy, babe, so you get me, too."

We snuggled together on the sofa.

"You know, both training centers are still growing the instructor and line-check pilot rosters. Is that something you'd consider?" she asked.

"How'd that even be possible? I've only been a captain for a few months."

"It's not going to happen immediately, babe," she answered with a chuckle. "You have to have five thousand hours total time and two years as a captain. Just like everything else, seniority comes first."

"Yeah, and I'm a freshman."

"I don't know why, but a lot of captains pass on the upgrade. It pushes eligibility deeper into the pool. I was a captain for only four years before I was made eligible, and with the growth InterAir is going through, you might be sooner. Joe Corning thinks you'd be a shoo-in. I do, too. Just think. Our schedules would almost always align."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she echoed, cuddling closer.

"I love you, Pam."

"I love you, too, baby."

We talked for a while longer, holding hands on the couch. She snuggled close to me and rested her head on my shoulder. When she didn't answer a question I'd asked, I stopped speaking. Her breathing slowed as I slowly stroked her back. My thumbnail snagged slightly on a seam, and I felt her body mildly start. I realized she'd fallen asleep as I cuddled her.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I should probably go back to my room and get some zees."