Chapter 2 - SEAT 32A
The flight lasted one hour and forty-three minutes.
I remember every minute.
Mason did not touch his gummy bears.
He kept the drawing in his backpack.
The one that said:
BEST PILOT EVER.
At some point, he took it out.
Folded it in half.
Then again.
I pretended not to notice.
A flight attendant named Diane came down the aisle after beverage service.
She crouched beside me.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
Her eyes flicked toward Mason.
Then she lowered her voice.
“You’re Captain Hayes’s family, aren’t you?”
Tyler Hayes.
My husband.
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“I’m so sorry.”
I felt my face burn.
“Does everyone know?”
“No.”
Pause.
“About you being onboard, I mean.”
I understood the correction.
Did everyone know about Lauren?
I asked anyway.
“Do you know her?”
Diane hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“Please.”
“She works for the airline.”
My stomach turned.
“What does she do?”
“Crew scheduling.”
Of course.
Someone with access to Tyler’s routes.
Hotels.
Deadheads.
Changes.
“Have they been obvious?”
Diane looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t want to get involved in your marriage.”
“You already know.”
She sighed.
“I’ve seen them together twice.”
“Where?”
“Denver crew hotel.”
“And?”
“Once in Boston.”
“How long ago?”
“Months.”
One year.
Tyler had just confirmed it himself.
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Diane stood.
Then stopped.
“Captain Hayes probably thought Lauren was the only person onboard who knew what that announcement meant.”
I almost laughed.
“Yes.”
That was exactly what made it so devastating.
He had not been caught because he got careless around me.
He got careless because he thought I was nowhere near him.
At cruising altitude, Mason finally asked:
“Are you going to divorce Dad?”
Children skip entire stages.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
“At me?”
My head turned so fast my neck hurt.
“No.”
He looked down.
“This was my idea too.”
Oh God.
“Mason.”
“If we didn’t surprise him, you wouldn’t know.”
I unbuckled enough to lean closer.
“Listen to me.”
He looked at me.
“Finding out the truth is not something you caused.”
“But—”
“Dad made whatever choices Dad made before we bought these tickets.”
I said it slowly.
“Our being here didn’t create them.”
His eyes filled.
Then he nodded.
I hoped he believed me.
I barely believed anything.
When we began our descent, my phone vibrated after airplane mode was disabled.
A message from Tyler.
Landed early last night. Saturday should be easy. Miss you guys.
Sent before takeoff.
I stared at it.
Then another message from fifteen minutes earlier, probably queued from the cockpit Wi-Fi system or sent before departure.
Tell Mason I’ll bring him a model plane from Chicago.
I nearly threw the phone.
Instead, I screenshotted both.
Not because I had become calculating.
Because the man I married had suddenly become someone whose words required records.
The wheels hit the runway.
Passengers applauded again.
May you like
Mason did not.
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