Chapter 9 - THE FIRST FLIGHT BACK
It took two years before Mason agreed to fly with Tyler again.
He was nine.
By then the divorce was final.
Tyler and I could sit at the same school concert without tension taking over the room.
He had dated nobody seriously.
Neither had I.
That was irrelevant.
Mason asked one afternoon:
“Does Dad still fly Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“Could I go sometime?”
My chest tightened.
“You want to?”
“Maybe.”
I called Tyler.
He became quiet.
Then:
“Only if he wants.”
Good.
We did not surprise him.
No secrets.
No mission.
Mason knew the flight number.
Tyler knew his son was aboard.
I traveled too because Mason wanted me there.
Near the back again.
Almost the same seats.
Before departure, the PA clicked.
I felt my body tense.
Mason noticed.
Then Tyler’s voice came through.
Professional.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard.”
Weather.
Flight time.
No personal message.
No surprise.
Exactly what I wanted.
Then, after landing, Tyler waited at the gate.
Mason ran toward him.
Tyler opened his arms.
Mason stopped just short.
Then hugged him.
Tyler closed his eyes.
I looked away.
Some moments belong to fathers and sons even after husbands fail wives.
Later, Mason gave him the old drawing.
Repaired with clear tape.
Tyler stared.
“Thought you threw this away.”
“No.”
Then Mason said:
“You’re not the best pilot ever.”
Tyler almost laughed.
“Fair.”
“But you’re still my dad.”
That destroyed him.
May you like
Maybe repaired something too.
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