Frequent Flier

2000 word contest:  Quote of the Month:  March 2010
A man travels the world in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.
~George Moore


Woody Hailey manages to calculate his every move absentmindedly from his apartment to the parking lot of the Morristown Municipal Airport along Route 287-N. He has made the same motion ten times prior to this one, and with heavens help he will again pursue another, and then another such journey till he blends into oblivion one year, when time is no more for him.  He feels closer to it now than he ever has before, but life routinely goes on, or whatever he now calls his existence since the tragic death of his dear wife, Iris.

Turning straight in his seat, Woody Hailey drags his left leg over the threshold of his 1987 Lincoln Town car and positioned his lame appendage against his right leg with the heel of his shoe resting beside his right foot. Tossing his cane on the seat beside him he checks his review mirror, and then fumbles with the key before inserting it into the ignition. He hesitates briefly to move his motorized seat forward into a safe and comfortable position while manually repositioned his foot to rest on the floor board several inches to the left of the brake pedal. Turning the key to engage the engine automatically arms him with caution. He looks over his right shoulder for approaching traffic, and seeing none, he noses his way onto the four-lane highway out front his apartment building. Boldly he eased the car toward the municipal airport along Route 287; his mind is in turmoil but he manages this short trip without unpleasant incident.

He makes all the right turns and necessary maneuvers to reach the rental parking lot; he is exactly one and a half hours ahead of his scheduled flight, thereby, comfortably necessitating the instructions for departing passengers. The attendant on duty greeted him with a familiar smile; he equips him with the pick-up ticket he will need for the return trip after a number of weeks abroad…the parking fees are ridiculous, but already accounted for in his travel plans.

He parks in the designated handicap space and then retrieves the cane from its resting place and stands it outside, on the cement, propped up against the back door. Multitasking, he struggles to position his left leg, anticipating a twist and a lift of his body off the seat with the swing of his right leg. Now standing erect, he grabs the cane in his right hand for the walk to the terminal. He took a step forward, turned on his right heel and faced the Lincoln before securing the locks with his hand device.

Resuming his wandering thoughts, prior to gathering his ticket from the parking attendant, caused him to start by thinking how uncertain the usage of something as simple as a cane became for the first time; it was completely opposite the way imagined. He understood it incorrectly, too, until he came to need one:  the cane is always placed on the strong side of the body, it can be comparable to using a railing on the stairs, and it helps to support the strong side of the body when taking a step with the weak side. Using a cane was an act of coordination he concluded.

He found comfort in the fact that he could use his cane with considerable smoothness after a couple years on crutches following surgery. He was fortunate to have escaped death five years ago; the twin engine commute he and his wife had taken, crashed. Being crippled was a small price to pay; Iris hadn’t survived. He had plenty of reason to be bitter, but he refused indulgence upon lack of self pity. Still, he missed her something fierce.

The insurance he’d taken time to buy paid off handsomely. He often wondered how many people ignored those little boxes in the airport hallways and then lived to regret it. Of course, he reasoned, every airline company was obligated to help its victims, but the additional insurance gave him a better advantage. It was over and above what the company behind the aircraft was able to offer. His claim had been well compensated. The reward monies would literately last him three life times; he wasn’t afraid to spend it, either. The trips to other countries became his life line. They provided the distraction he desperately needed. His loneliness drove him from his home when his happiness waned; time and again he sought for comfort in the next adventure. Having free air-fare was hardly a drop in the proverbial bucket, when it came to his travels. His legal representative had battled hard for this stipulation in his settlement, and won.

The hospital and doctor expenses were humongous. The statements he received from the insurance company apprised him to the amount being paid. The sum for the whole shebang was well over four-million dollars. It boggled his mind.

Of course, a big portion of his compensation came from Iris’ death; they had been married thirty-five years. He felt his heart permanently broke; it would never heal. Furthermore, it drove him crazy being alone. Was he supposed to overlook the fact that she had been the mother of his two children and accept his loss without constant regrets? He couldn’t! He felt he would always mourn her loss.

The children comforted him as much as their grief would allow, which was not enough to help lighten his burden for long. The three grandchildren were wonderful to be with, but the diversion lasted only as long as the duration of their visits, or his, whichever the case might be. He had found nothing so completely distractive to his thoughts as these international journeys.

When he boarded a flight he settled into a routine he’d developed while waiting for past lift-offs. He had a check list to go through; it was always intuitive and not deliberate. After taking his pre-selected aisle seat he checked the back of the seat ahead of him for reading material and necessary gadgets useful in long flights:  barf bag, sleeping mask, chewing gum, disposable razor. Even a disposable camera had been provided by one flight. He liked finding unexpected stuff. When his curiosity was thoroughly satisfied he got up and checked the lavatory facilities; they were located in the rear quarters of every plane he could ever remembered taking. He liked to make sure there were paper cups and a filtered water spigot; he wanted to make his own choice of a drink when he had to use the john. He, also, liked rinsing his mouth after meals; he therefore caught any food particles from sticking imprudently upon his teeth. He knew how gross it was to see such evidence on the teeth of anyone he spoke with. Afterwards, he routinely returned to his seat, but before sitting down he always checked too make sure there were three pillows overhead in the storage compartment.

He prided himself on never having carry-on luggage. This way he was purposefully free upon departure to leave without forgotten possessions. He’d always found forgetfulness the contrary part of his good memory; it was the part he loathed. So, rather than accept his weakness he did all he could to avoid it. When he was satisfied all was in order, he settled down to read a magazine as he waited for the scheduled take-offs of his flights.

He had flown so much in the past three years that he began to make it his practice to mimic the stewardess during early flight when she got up to explain the procedure of events to take place in case of an emergency. Even though he tried to whisper quietly to himself, the other passengers seated close by could hear his every word, which not only annoyed them but brought them confusion so that her instructions became vague and impossible to grasp. When past passengers complained about his practice he was asked to please not repeat the offence in future flights. A lot of good her polite request did, because he failed to break this habit.

Mr. Hailey indulged in fun and hilarious living when he visited far off lands and never once endured being alone. He visited nightclubs and spent time entertaining laissez-faire women. He found life more standard and loved being the man whom everyone liked to be with; merriment followed his every mood. When he came to the last day of his vacation, whether it was three weeks or three months, he always developed a sick feeling and dreaded his emanate departure for home. A pattern developed:  his time at home brought him little joy; his unhappiness grew until he felt no peace, and then he would plan another excursion overseas.

He rarely left his apartment when he was home. He would watch movies and indulge in reading the mystery books he gathered from the local library. One evening his son came to pay Woody a visit. He expressed his concern about the way he run his life while home from his journeys.

”You do nothing to bring happiness into your life while you are here. Your visits are fewer and fewer and we miss the real you. We are sad too; we don’t only miss our Mother but you also.”

He tried to encourage his father to rejoin society while he was home instead of spending so much time alone.

“It will give you a sense of belonging if you get out and meet people your own age," urged Peter. "Everyone experiences things in their lives they wish to change. You are no different than millions of lonely bodies out there. Janet and I will double date with you, if you need encouragement getting started. You tell us all the time about how much fun you experience abroad. What is so different about your homeland? You are Woody Hailey here as well as Woody Hailey in other places. Give life a chance, Dad, when you are home. We miss you when you are gone. Mom isn’t here with you but, hey, she isn’t with you anywhere else, either; is she?”

“Well, no she isn’t. It’s just easier being without her in a foreign land. She was never there, and I don’t expect to see her every turn I make, like I do here. Everything around here is so full of her; I just can’t get my mind to adjust to being without her. When I'm out of the country it's different. I don't expect to see her, and I've never had the feeling she’s on the other side of every door.”

“I understand it’s not easy for you to do this on your own. Let us help you Dad. Margaret and Dan, Janet and I will give you a dinner party and invite a few people your age we know. When you meet them it will not be easier for you to let go and indulge in a little partying. What do you think, Dad?”

“To tell the truth, Son, I think that is a great idea. I am having a horrible time adjusting. I can see how badly now that you bring up such obvious objections. You and your sister see what you can do toward getting me introduced to some other people. I will play along. I had no idea you read me like this.”

“Good, deal, Dad. We'll get right on it; I don't think you will be disappointed with the results. I am hoping it will help keep you around our town longer.”

Two weeks later Woody received an invite through the mail to his children’s dinner party. He felt immediate relief; his expectations had been revived. Lately he had begun to think strongly about planning another trip abroad.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I didn’t know your father was such a swinger, Margaret, I think I would like to get to know him a little better. What do you think about introducing him to me?" Suggested Pat Edward who is a friend of Margaret’s and the mother of her best friend. "I would like to give him the-go-around before he gets too tranquil with Charlotte, she gets around pretty quickly when it comes to elderly gents.”

“Actually, I believe he would enjoy meeting you, Patty. You remind me of my Mum. He loves to wine and dine his lady friends when he goes abroad. This dinner party is totally in his honor as the invitation says. He needs encouragement to find happiness here, in his own country. All he can do while he is at home is sit around and mourn his loss.”

“Then let me at him, I’ll show him a thing or two about living. Introduce me to him, Sweetie; I believe I can give him the chance he needs.”

“Sure, Patty, I’ll introduce you to Dad. Come along.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Darling, take these extra blankets? It’s cold tonight and the ground is mighty hard for your old bones," instructs Pat as Woody is about to leave and join his grandkids in their four-man tent staked in his new wife’s yard, "you might catch your death if you stay out in the yard all-night with those three. I never knew such a silly old man like you, before. You noticed your grandchildren didn’t ask you to sleep out there with them, they knew better. You are an old fool that can’t seem to realize his place in life, but that’s why I love you so much; you know.”

“Look, Pat, I didn’t marry you so you could keep me from having some fun when I feel like it. I don’t mind a little cold and the hard ground, once in a while. Those kids don’t know how rugged their grandpa really is. They never have had a chance to get to know me like they have lately.”

“Yes, you’re right, Woody. I married you because you needed me to help you live again. Are you happy, Woody? I mean, really happy? Tell me I make you happy, Sweetheart.” She had moved over to where he stood and they were engulfed in each other’s arms by the time she’d finished her plea.

Woody found Pat’s lips inviting and slowly kissed her soundly, she melted into his chest. He almost decided to not go and spend the night with his grandkids after all, but his pride quickly returned and he staunchly announced:

“Patty, dearest, you are heaven-sent. I never knew, what I was looking for was right here under my nose all the time. Now, duty calls; I’ll see you first thing it gets light. Keep the bed warm; I’m going to need it.”