Two Feet Off The Ground Read online

  Oh gosh! I shoveled the fan into my arms and rose to my feet. Right where the fan used to be was a poster board with “The Dreams I Will Accomplish” written across its top. Torn, glossy magazine pages were taped to it – an ad of the same exact truck Paula owned with a checkmark by its side, a picture of Brown University with another checkmark. I counted ten checkmarks next to snapshots. Her over-sized sofa, a woman running a marathon, her pool, a four-poster bed, a mountain bike, a brochure of Europe, an ad for a soccer coach, a set of expensive-looking pans, a postcard of Costa Rica, and the Rocky Mountains. Images still waiting for checkmarks blanketed every spec of white space. In the dead center: a picture of California’s coastline. Of course. Its title, “Welcome Home.”

  If any morsel of hope existed that Paula would stay in Rhode Island, then I had better march right into that bathroom, slide into that slinky suit Aziza talked me into buying during the spring sale at Water World, and pray for a miracle.

  But first, I needed to figure out how the hell I was going to get that fan back on the wall in one piece, and repair the gaping hole I created in it. I dug in my tote bag for my clear nail polish. I twisted the top of it off and hoped it would do the trick. But, two miracles in one day was an awful lot to ask for.

  Please, life owed me.

  * *

  By the time I pranced onto the patio the three of them were hanging their heads at the edge of the pool, tuckered out already.

  “You cheated on that last stretch,” Chuck said to Paula, heaving in and out.

  “Don’t be a sore loser.” She lifted herself up on the edge and struggled out of the water. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

  She halted as soon as she laid her eyes on me in my sequined bikini. She bit down on her lower lip and winked.

  I loved fashion.

  I smiled from ear to ear as I catwalked towards her. I wished Chuck and Owen weren’t staring at us so I could wrap my arms around her and make out with her right there under the sizzling sun. “Are we eating outside?”

  She nodded, not taking her eyes off me. “Could you be any more gorgeous?” She mouthed.

  “Me?” I wrinkled up my nose. Ah, the power of a bikini.

  “Oh, come on,” Chuck rushed by us, pulling Owen by his arm. “Let’s eat.”

  I smiled. “We better join them.”

  “Do we have to?” she asked. Then, she whispered, “Maybe they’ll think we’re just swimming.”

  I melted like gum in the hot sun. I gave Paula a let’s-pickup-where-this-left-off look before turning to lead her inside.

  But she pulled me back and swept me off to the little cabana. I didn’t even wait for the door to shut behind us before pressing my lips against hers. God, she tasted sinful. Her sweet breath swam around my mouth. Then, she pulled back slightly, just far enough so I could gaze into her eyes. She leaned in again and kissed the corners of my mouth before grazing my lips with her petal soft touch. She kissed me softly and slowly while caressing my face. Then, she gently slid her tongue between my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue then teasing me by pulling away.

  I wanted more. I needed more. I couldn’t stand not to have more. Ravenous with desire, I kissed her harder and more passionately. I couldn’t get enough of her. I tangled my tongue around hers, lassoing it to mine. Tingles spread throughout my body, sending shivers up and down my spine. I felt the sparks forming in between my legs, lighting me on fire. Her heart beat like a boom box against my chest, as my fingertips pressed into her back. I wanted one thing, and one thing only. To make love to Paula McKenna and never stop.

  “Mom?” Owen yelled outside.

  I jumped a good five feet backwards when I heard his innocent little voice. Breathless and wet, I struggled to straighten myself before opening the door. Paula ran her fingers through her wet hair and braced herself against a table. I couldn’t feel my legs.

  “In here, sweetie. We’re just looking for some…for some, um…”

  “For some beer,” she answered for me. She reached behind her and opened the fridge for the beer. She shrugged, and I gave her a thumbs up before we walked out together and into her house. I struggled to catch my breath. Chuck just laughed.

  Off to the side of the kitchen was a breakfast nook that I missed entirely on my cookie-snatching adventure. A powder-coated aluminum table with four matching chairs centered the screened-in room. A simple cream vase with a few sprigs of evergreen brought a Zen-quality to the blissful breezy room. Who needed California?

  The food danced in my mouth. Where did the baby back ribs and herbed slaw come from anyway? Did she have a secret room where she hid Emeril? And then the strawberry cream pie surfaced and suddenly her house smelled like a strawberry patch.

  The hell with frozen patches of green beans and gooey cranberries crammed into little inch-by-inch compartments; I had to convince Paula to stick around if for no other reason than to teach me how to cook a decent meal. Even Owen all but licked his plate clean.

  Once we finished devouring our food like a pack of wolves, I stood up and began gathering the plates, while Owen snatched up the dirty forks and spoons.

  “No, we’ll take care of these later,” Paula said, shooing us away. “Let’s go back to the pool.”

  Before I could argue, the three of them were already running through the kitchen. So, what did I do? I grabbed another cookie on my way out and shoved the whole damn thing in my mouth. By the time I got to the edge of the pool and dangled my toes in the water, all trace of the sweet, chocolate decadence vanished.

  Good thing because Chuck yanked at my ankle and tossed me into the crystal water. I swallowed a mouthful of chlorine and it instantly burned my nose. My eyes were like faucets spilling water out of them. I closed them for refuge, but they only stung more.

  What an ass!

  I leveraged my hands against the water and pushed gallons of water at him. He splashed it right back at me. Fully engulfed in water war, I cornered him in rapid fire. Soon, Paula and Owen cheered me on, encouraging me to go in for the victory. I pounded him until he dove under in surrender. When he rose up from the crystal blue depths, he shook his head like a wet dog and sunk into treading position, balancing on a noodle.

  “I need a beer,” he said.

  I liked Chuck. He reminded me of my cousin. All my friends had crushes on him and begged to be set up on dates with him. They viewed my cousin like a god, but I never got it. I only saw the same goofy kid he was at five-years-old.

  I wondered, as I floated on by Chuck, if girls probably befriended Paula just to get closer to him. The straight ones were probably too mesmerized by his good looks to see the goofball in him. His golden hair and tanned skin could’ve earned him a cover spot on Men’s Health.

  Owen tossed a beach ball at him and Chuck volleyed it right back. Owen didn’t even include his adored coach in the ball toss.

  In a flash, I saw my ideal future. The four of us bonded into a family unit where barbeques, pool days, and horsing around filled our days.

  Paula swam to the steps and scaled them to get to the inner tube. Her butt looked so yummy in her orange one-piece.

  “Hey Paula, can you grab us a few beers while you’re out?” Chuck asked.

  “Yeah, one for me!” Owen shouted.

  She shot Owen the kind of warning look most kids would run from. He quickly altered his request. “Or maybe a soda?”

  She dropped the inner tube and circled into the cabana. She came back out armed with a cooler. Chuck wasted no time swimming to the steps. I trailed right behind him, just as thirsty for a ice-cold beer.

  Paula tossed Chuck a can, and then passed a soda to Owen. But, she waited for me to get closer and opened my can and handed it to me. “Here you go, babe.”

  She just called me ‘babe’! I’d give up my collection of handbags to hear it again. I forced myself to calm a notch or two so I wouldn’t appear to be a total geek spilling my giddiness around like a loose fireman’s hose. “Thanks,” I decided on sayin
g.

  I sat at the edge of the pool and dangled my feet in the water. She sat right beside me. Our thighs touched. The chemistry reigned in tight, unparalleled to anything.

  Chuck downed his beer and tossed the empty can on the patio.

  “Ah, nothing like a cold beer on a hot day, huh? Sis, can I get one more?”

  “Uh, you still have to be sober in a couple of hours?” she said to him. “I promised these two a little surprise, remember?”

  “Come on,” he said. “I’m not going to be drunk on two beers.”

  Paula draped her arm around my leg. “I’m comfortable now. I think you should get the beer yourself if you want it.”

  “So are you ready to soar around the great Rhode Island skies today?” Chuck asked me walking up the pool steps.

  My mouth flew open. “Huh?”

  “That’s my surprise for you two!” Paula squeezed my leg. “Chuck has his own Cesna at North Central and wants to fly you to Block Island today.”

  I gulped.

  “Wow.” Owen’s eyes flew open wide. “Yes!” He wound his hand up like he was about to start a lawn mower’s engine. “This is so awesome!”

  My heart dropped and my throat immediately dried up.

  “You alright? You look like you’re ready to throw up,” Paula said to me.

  “My mom’s scared of flying.”

  I splashed Owen.

  “Scared of flying?” Chuck asked. “Then, what the hell are you doing hanging out with my sister? She’s got wings growing off her back.”

  “I’m fine with flying,” I insisted, pointing my eyes at Owen so hard I think I could’ve pinned him to a wall and hung him there for a while in silence.

  “Owen, you’re not chicken are you?” Paula asked.

  He tore away from my power grip. “Nah. I’ve been up in one before.”

  I stared at Owen in shock. “When did you fly in one?”

  “On my ninth birthday, remember, when Tim’s dad took us camping in New Hampshire?”

  Pitching a tent in a state-insured campground that erected slides and teeter-totters and hosted teen-night at its rec center was a little different than flying five-thousand feet above the earth. What kind of a mother didn’t know about her son flying in an airplane? “Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” I said, stirring the water with my leg now.

  “I’m taking one last dip, then we can go,” Chuck said, lunging into the water with the perfect arch and hardly breaking a splash.

  Like hell. I’d whack my arm off in the sliding door this time if that’s what it took to stay grounded.

  * *

  Of course I had to attract myself to someone with a brother who flew airplanes for a living. Of all professions, couldn’t Chuck be a police officer, a lawyer, a waiter? I could just see it now, Chuck and Paula planning Christmas dinners on some deserted piece of land that only accepted visitors via those planes that land on water. How would I ever fit in? They’d be packing up the presents and the turkey dinner, and I’d be buried under my blankets faking a migraine?

  Chuck not only worked for American Airlines as a pilot, but he also owned a Cesna. Perfect. No wonder they flew all over the world together like a couple of cowboys saddled up on Mavericks exploring wide open spaces. Life was one big adventure for the McKennas. Free airfare, first class upgrades, they droned on and on about the perks the whole ride over to the airport.

  By the time we reached the gates to North Central Airport, Chuck had managed to describe to Owen every detail of how a plane’s wings worked. Owen stared at him widely, not even taking his eyes off him when they parked. Chuck, the new super hero in his life; the guy who could’ve told him he needed a cavity filled and Owen would’ve opened his mouth to let him start drilling.

  I still had no idea how I’d get out of taking off in that airplane, but I’d be every piece of cashmere in my closet that I’d find a way.

  I lingered behind their laughs and high-fives as we crossed the roped area to the runway and hiked out to the last plane on the Tarmac. A beige and white plane about the size of my shoe closet waited for some hotshot, brave soul to fire up her engine and take her up in the air to surf on the clouds. Wasn’t catching sunrays, or even playing a round of golf, a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon?

  My stomach sunk. Even if by some morsel of hope I got Paula to stay in Rhode Island, airplanes, Tarmacs, all this shit would become my life.

  As Chuck and Paula tinkered with the propeller, pouring oil into it like they were lubing up the Tin Man himself, I wandered around the backside of the plane. I inspected every line, every curve as though I knew what the hell it all meant. I scraped off a piece of chipped paint from the window’s edge. Not even the paint could withstand the pressure of the wind.

  Owen followed Chuck and Paula around like a well-trained bloodhound on the hunt for drugs on board a 747. He stuck his head right between them when they examined the tires and nodded right along with them as though he understood exactly what they meant when they confirmed the tires had plenty of pressure. What did he know about tire pressure? He didn’t even know how to operate a vacuum cleaner.

  My cue to stage my classic getaway came when Paula fitted Owen with his headset.

  “Um, Paula,” I snuck up next to her. “Is there a bathroom I can use?”

  “Yeah, I think there is. But, it’s a short flight. It should only take us thirty minutes or so. Can you wait ’til we land there?”

  She spoke about the flight as though we were taking a simple drive in her pickup truck to the beach. Quite honestly, I’d rather tell her I had the runs, than confess my need to keep two feet on the ground at all times. “Actually, I don’t think the strawberries are sitting right in my stomach. I think I should go now.”

  “Okay, then, just go through the double doors there and check in the pilots’ lounge area. Should be in there.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I started to walk, then decided a little squirt of believability needed to be pumped into my little acting stint. I called out of my shoulder, “Don’t leave without me.”

  “We’re not going anywhere without you.” She tossed me a wink.

  What did I do? What any reasonable woman afraid of losing her dignity would do. I frolicked towards the building like I was enjoying a beautiful walk on the rolling hills of England. Once I got inside, I clocked myself. Ten minutes ought to do the trick.

  I found the bathroom and checked my hair. What a mess. I dug in my bag and pulled out a tube of hair polish, then scrunched the silicone into my curls until my ends formed smoother waves. I might have to fake being sick, but that didn’t mean I had to look like a drowned rat in the process. I hoped my hair wouldn’t turn green from the chlorine. Well, nothing a little clarifying shampoo couldn’t dissolve.

  By the time I trekked back out to the plane, Owen sat stuffed into the backseat already.

  “Mom, this is so cool!” he said, hitting the top of his headset like an overjoyed Orangutan who just scored a banana from a zookeeper. Chuck monitored the controls and spoke codes into his microphone. Paula stood outside the door with an extra headset in hand.

  “You’re going to need this to hear us talking. It gets kind of loud up there.”

  Here it came, time for my acting debut with her. I tapped my belly and scrunched my face up to look like I just ate a spoonful of Captain Crunch cereal doused in orange juice.

  “Can I take a rain check? I just got sick in the bathroom.”

  She dangled the headset in her hands and just sort of looked at me blankly.

  “Okay, but we’re all ready to go. Owen, I mean look at him.” She laughed as if trying to convince me that the world was round and they couldn’t possibly travel around it any other way. “He’s excited.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to cancel the trip. I’ll be inside waiting. I’ve got a book in here.” I tapped my tote.

  “Sure you’ll be okay?” she asked, a wave of relief washing over her face.

  “Yes, I’ll just
go sit on the couch in the lounge area.” I pushed her towards her seat. “I’ll be fine. Just take care of Owen. Make sure he doesn’t pull at anything he’s not supposed to up there.”

  “We’ll have plenty of chances to get you back here.” She climbed into the seat. “We should be back in an hour and half tops.”

  I backed away from the plane, being sure to keep my hand on my belly.

  I watched them taxi off towards the runway, all three of them waving their hands at me like those people you see right before a cruise ship takes off. When I could no longer see Owen, I turned and sprinted back to the safety of the building feeling very much like I imagined a lottery winner did once realizing she was holding the winning ticket. Free, at least for the moment.

  * *

  I paced the lounge keeping a vigilant eye out for them. I must’ve checked my cell ten times already, praying they’d text me and tell me where the hell they were. I wanted Owen to enjoy himself, but Paula promised she’d have him back in an hour and a half. Three hours was definitely too long. Something bad had to have happened.

  I looked over at the manager’s office again. His big feet still hung over the edge of his desk. If their plane had crashed and burned, would he really be lounging? But if they crashed on Block Island, what could he do from North Central?

  I couldn’t stand not knowing a second longer. I skirted around the row of attached seats and marched into his office.

  The skinny, bald man looked up from his notebook at me.

  “Hi!” he said to me as if no plane in history had ever crashed. Couldn’t he see I’d been treading around there all afternoon, making a hole in the Berber carpet next to the window?

  “Have you heard from Chuck McKenna’s plane at all?”

  “I don’t think so. Saturdays we get a lot of pilots in and out of here.” He dropped his legs to the floor and popped his head up like a weasel.