Chapter 1 "Dirty Windows"

Preface

 

 

“This book is dedicated to all the ghosts in my life.  But especially to the injured fawn I left on the side of the road.  Forgive me for I can only carry so many.  On that day, my hands and my life were full.”

 

B. MacGregor

Chapter 1

“One Dirty Window”

 

 

 

 

 

            “Boarding all rows for Flight 1604 from Chicago to Boston,” the stewardess finally announced.  It was about time.  The 10:20 PM flight was one hour past departure. The new crew was late, coming from another flight.

I picked up my backpack, anxious to board the plane and get to my new home.  It would be a long flight, four hours or so. Then catch the train from Boston to Hanover to get to Dartmouth.  My first year at college.

My familiar black duffle bag was checked.  Just my backpack and my I-Pod to keep me company. I looked about the waiting area.  I was the only passenger. I assumed the others were late from a connecting flight.   

I was tired. Grands and I overslept this morning�"nobody to wake us up. We missed the exit and I missed my scheduled flight. I waited over four hours and crossed my fingers to be able to board the red-eye.  Not much to do in the airport for a young man other than rock out to Def Leppard and watch people go about their business. 

            I handed the stewardess my ticket without removing my earbuds.  She didn’t seem to mind.  It wasn’t like there was a raging crowd of people waiting to board the late night flight.  She looked haggard anyway.  Her auburn hair fastened in a pony tail.  She yawned as she took my ticket and inserted it in the machine.  She mumbled something. I assumed it was, “Have a nice flight.”  But to me it was the familiar lyrics to Animal by Def Leppard.  “And I want… And I need…”      

            I found my way to the back of the aircraft.  It was a large plane with two aisles�"way too big for the sparse number of passengers connecting from the other flight. I went directly to the coach class compartment.  I felt like being secluded.  Nobody likes to sit in the back row. Frankly I was surprised the airline was going through with the flight.  By the time the doors closed, there were less than a dozen passengers on board.  It didn’t seem worth the squeeze for the powder keg of fuel it would take to lift the humongous plane off the ground and transport it to the east coast.  I left my earbuds in, and wrapped my sweatshirt around me. I slouched in the window seat.  I figured nobody would want to sit next to a kid bound for college listening to retro heavy metal. 

The boarding process went fast, too fast.  The stewardess, the bored one from the front gate, came by and told me to turn off my electronic device.  I guess she meant my I-Pod.  She graciously tapped me on the shoulder when I didn’t hear her the first time.  She smiled and quickly moved on.  Only one stewardess�"I guess I know where the airline was saving their money.  Not surprised, there weren’t enough passengers to justify a full service flight.

            I was surprised when a young woman sat across the aisle from me.  She apparently moved backwards from her assigned seat.  She huffed when she sat.  She surveyed her terrain.  Her large, green eyes looked for something.  They were sunken and her nose was small.  Her lips were full and pink.  Her blond hair was frazzled, loosely tied in a long ponytail.  She wore a hooded sweatshirt that covered her frail body.  She was tiny, no make-up and pale.  Definitely from the Midwest.  She gazed across the aisle looking directly at me.  Her agitation was pronounced.  Her eyes caught mine.  She peered down at the cross that hung about my neck.  She stared at it until I tucked it underneath my t-shirt. She huffed again and then looked forward. 

            I looked out the dirty window.  I watched the men with the orange helmets flash their lights to signal the pilot it was ok to move away from the gate.  The plane buckled and moved.  I heard the young girl fidget with her seat belt.  She fumbled with the latch.  When she did get it fastened, she pulled it excessively tight across her lap�"painfully tight.  She rocked back and forth.  The bored stewardess started her pleasant routine of reminding the few of us where the exits were and how our seat cushions could be used as flotation devices. 

The young woman across from me made her move at the end of the oxygen mask spiel. She huffed again.  She quickly unfastened her seat belt and tightly clutched her purse.  She stood and darted to the aisle seat in my row, one seat away.  She quickly fastened the seat belt and put her denim purse under the seat in front of her.  She glanced at me.  Then she looked at the back of the seat in front of her.  She twisted the knob on the tray, ensuring it was properly closed.  She tightened her seat belt.  I stared at her wondering why she occupied my row when the entire plane was near empty. 

            “Ok… you’re the only one who doesn’t look like a terrorist on this plane. You look safe. You look strong.  I can’t stand flying.  Only angels and birds should fly.  Regular people aren’t meant to fly.  I have to be next to someone.  I have to know it’s going to be ok. Nothing’s going to happen to this flight�"right?”  She paused her rambling just long enough to look me in the eye.  Her green eyes were large and sincere, sincerely terrified.

            “No, nothing’s going to happen. Planes fly all the time.  Statistically you have a greater chance of being hit by a car than to be in an airline crash.  It’s the safest form of travel.” I tried to reassure her.  I could tell it wasn’t effective.

“I’m not a crackpot or anything.  I’m not a weirdo.  I’m just scared that’s all. I don’t like to fly.” Her hands gripped the arm rest.  Her knuckles were white. 

“It’s ok.  I’ve flown several times.  It’s pretty routine.”  Poor girl. It must have been her first flight.  She was a newbie.

“You’re an expert at this.  These vibrations are normal right?” She referred to the slow taxi from the gate to the runway. 

“Yeah, the plane’s just moving into position.” I smiled to give her a modest degree of comfort.

“Ok, ok,” she mumbled, relying completely on my explanation.

We waded through a brief moment of silence as the plane continued to taxi through the myriad of landing strips to get to the take-off zone.  When we reached the runway, we were fifth in line.  The stewardess finally turned off the cabin lights.  The young woman flinched.

“What? What are they doing?  The power just went off.  What’s wrong?” She panicked.

“Nothing.  They just turned off the cabin lights.”  I reached to the overhead light above her seat and turned it on.  I turned my overhead light on too.  She seemed to loosen her grip on the arm rest slightly.

“Ok, you’re going to have to talk to me.  I need to hear someone’s voice.  Talk to me about something. Anything.” She pleaded without looking at me.

I flexed my eyebrows.  “I’m Zach. What’s your name?”

“Tuesday.” She could barely introduce herself, staggering her breaths and periodically closing her eyes.

“Tuesday�"huh?”

“Yeah�"my mom had a thing for Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones.  Ruby Tuesday.  You ever heard of the song?”

“Actually, yeah.  Nice song.”

“Zach.  Is it short for Zachary?”

“It is.”

She turned to look at me.  “Zachary means the remembrance of God.”  She smiled.  Her teeth were white. Her canines were long and pronounced.  Not perfect, but unique. It made her face interesting.  She turned to face the seat again. 

“How do you know that?”

“I’m training to be a nun.  I’m moving to a convent in Boston.”

Whoa�"too bad.  I hoped she was a college student or something, but a nun in training�"ugh.  “I thought you said you weren’t a crackpot.”

She turned and faced me again.  She just about defended herself, until she noticed I was smiling. “If I felt comfortable releasing my grip from this chair.  If I thought for one moment my hands weren’t keeping my body locked into this seat, I’d smack you to kingdom come.”

I laughed. “That doesn’t sound too nun-like?” Tuesday smiled.  She got my sense of humor. “Why a nun?”

“I want to know what happens to people when they die.  I want to learn about the divine purpose. And, I want to help people.” She cringed slightly as the airline turned to approach the runway.  “Please keep talking.”

“I see you found a friend.” The stewardess mentioned as she made her final safety check.  She paused momentarily to see if Tuesday was fine. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m ok. I’m going to be ok.  Zach here is looking out for me.  Aren’t you Zach?”  Tuesday looked at me for some realization of security.

I smiled and nodded my head to the stewardess. “Yeah. I’ll take responsibility.  I’ll get her through this trip.  But she’ll be on her own when the flight’s over.”

“See you’re in good hands.  Zach here looks strong… and fairly cute.  You make a nice couple.  He’ll walk you through it.  He looks like he knows the ropes pretty well.” The stewardess bent to her knees.  She rested her hand on Tuesday’s white knuckles.  “If you play your cards right, I bet he’ll entertain you the entire flight.  Once the plane takes off, you’ll be on the ground before you know it.” 

The stewardess winked at me�"not sure if she flirted with me or thanked me for taking the newbie under my wing.  The pilot announced to secure the cabin for take-off.  The voice was electronic and synthesized.  It was barely audible. The stewardess moved to her seat in the far back behind the curtain, beyond the bathroom and kitchenette.

“What’s happening now?” Tuesday exclaimed.  She desperately looked at me.  Her eyes bulged as the engines began to rev, gathering momentum.

“We’re going to take-off.  The engines are building up steam.  Soon, we’ll start racing down the runway.  Once we build up enough speed, the plane will start to rise.  It’s like riding a rollercoaster, speeding along a track.  Just close your eyes and hang on.”

“So this is it.  We’re going to start flying? Oh God help me.  Lord, please give me strength.”  The engines surged and the tires bolted forward as the plane raced downed the runway.  “You’re really cute. So just keep talking to me. Cute guys never die in accidents.  If you keep talking to me then I know I’m going to be ok. Just talk to me.”  The plane raced faster and faster. “Please.  Please.”

“What do you want me to talk to you about?”

“Anything.  Tell me about your family.  What did you do this summer? Do you have a girlfriend? Anything.  Please, Zach.”  Tuesday bit her lower lip as the plane gathered momentum.

“What I did this summer? Well, it was… kind of unusual.”

“Keep going.  Keep talking.”  Tuesday reached her hand out to me and clutched my sweatshirt. She pulled it away from me and then grabbed my t-shirt like an eagle clinging to its prey.  She held on without reservation.  “Put your arm around me. Protect me. Please, Zach, please!”

  I quickly moved to the middle seat, never ignoring an opportunity to put an arm around a pretty girl. I fastened my seatbelt just in time before the tires left the runway.  I leaned into her.  She trembled.  She lifted the armrest and buried her head in my chest. She was cold and clammy.  She had a bad case of the nerves.  “Keep talking, Zach.  I need to hear your voice.”

I wrapped my other arm around her. If she wasn’t so innocent and beautiful in an understated way, I wouldn’t have given myself to her so quickly. “You want me to tell you about my summer?”

“Yes. Don’t let go.” The aircraft started to lift off the ground.

“It was an awesome summer.  I spent it with my grandmother in a small town in Iowa. It was the first time I spent the summer with her.  She has an old Victorian house�"three story.  She and her best friend are paying for my college.  Four years at Dartmouth�"a free ride.”  The plane climbed quickly.  Tuesday nestled her head deeper into my chest.  I gripped her tighter, letting her know she was safe.

 “I learned all about life this summer, growing up in the process. I faced my fears, cleaned some windows, read a book, and broke a few rules in the process.  Maybe learned how to love too. I guess I found my own sense of religion�"my faith in life.”  The plane was on a fast track, soaring high into the air.

“How Zach?  How did you find your faith?  Keep talking.”  Tuesday pleaded. 

“Well… My grandmother’s retired from the newspaper industry.  Her best friend’s an author. They’re both fairly odd characters, but they give each other strength.  They operate a boarder house of sorts now.  One of their tenants was someone very special to me. Maybe I fell in love�"if I did, it was my first love.  They say you never forget your first love. I doubt I’ll ever forget this one.”

“It didn’t work out, did it?” The plane zoomed high and above.

“No. It didn’t. I had college… and well, it didn’t work.” I closed my eyes and rested my chin on the top of Tuesday’s head. I could smell her hair. It was soft and pure like baby shampoo. It was familiar.

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say the boarder house wasn’t conventional.  It held a special purpose. It was a place for lost souls.  People separated from the world, needing to find themselves.  People taking the time to discover their sins, capture their virtue, and find their path to redemption.  It was a haven�"a sanctuary.  It was a place of purification. Unfortunately it didn’t work out for a few of them, but most of them found their way back home�"the place where they needed to be.”

“Where was that?”  Tuesday wrapped her arms around my narrow waist, hugging on to me for dear life.

“Since you’re studying to be a nun. I guess you’ll appreciate the truth. However, it may not be your truth.”

“Lend me your faith Zach, keep talking, please.”

“Like I said it was an unusual place.  I guess I wouldn’t believe it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.  Believe me, I never thought I would be telling a story like this�"not me.  Especially to a total stranger, let alone a nun-in-training. But it’s the only story I know to keep you from being terrified.”

“Oh God,” she uttered as the plane dropped a bit from a small dab of turbulence. Our stomach fell to our knees. The aircraft quickly recovered and ascended rapidly.

“It was a boarder house for ghosts. Dead people lost in their sin, looking for salvation… redemption.” 

The young woman in my arms started to whimper. “The Lord is my Shepard…” she started crying, completely fearful.

“Courage, Tuesday, courage.”

“I shall not want…” Tuesday cowered further in the confines of my biceps.

“You know the biggest problem with ghosts?”

“What Zach?” She replied, fearful of the heights we soared.

“They don’t always know they’re dead… that, and dirty windows.”

Reviews

[PianoFiend]

This was a very enjoyable read. It was very interesting.

[Coyote Poetry]

You know how to web a tale. The story brought me in with each line. I like the pace and the set-up of the story. You create two interesting characters. I was in the Army for 15 years. Plane and new friendships happen on every journey. The story seem almost like true life. I like the conversation and the situation you open up. A powerful chapter. Thank you.
Coyote

[AlexAustin]

This is good. I like the tone and the pace. The characters seem real, but quirky--Tuesday's initial outburst sets her up well. Slipping in the ghost stuff in the context of Tuesday's tension about flying is effective. I'll keep reading.

[B MacGregor]

Already know about the em dash versus quotation mark issue.

Darn it all.

Oh well....