Affairytale : A Memoir Page 21

  He pulled me into the hangar and fitted me with eighteen pounds of flight gear. “Honey, how safe is this?” I asked. “I have a child you know.” He tugged and cinched a ridiculous amount of straps and buckles.

  “Don’t worry, it’s completely safe, it’s more likely that you’d die in a car accident on the way out here. Honey, I’d never do anything to lose you or take you away from Dani.”

  “But what about Bobby Kennedy? And all the other small planes that crash each year, I bet those pilots said the same thing.”

  “I’m sure they did, but I don’t take risks. Only calculated ones anyway.”

  “You do take risks though I’ve seen you.”

  “I don’t anymore,” he caught my attention with the most sincere expression “I want to live forever now that I have you. I promise I will always take extra precautions.”

  The extra-large parachute he’d strapped to my tiny frame was so bulky and heavy I felt like a deep sea diver stranded in an Iowa cornfield.

  He finished tightening all one hundred buckles then double backed the straps yanking so hard both of my feet floated across the ground.

  “Why don’t you just put your foot on my stomach and cinch them tighter?” I complained.

  “Does it hurt? It’s supposed to be tight.”

  Had I not taken OxyContin I would have probably passed out, but I couldn’t miss this date, I’d do whatever it takes to go flying with him.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Why are we wearing parachutes anyway? I don’t know how to skydive.”

  He reached into the tote and pulled out a second parachute for himself. “We’re not going to skydive, not today,” he said as he hurled the large green pack over his shoulders, “we’re not going to take any chances. These are for an emergency abort.”

  “Can you actually sky dive from this plane?” I asked.

  “It’s not designed for that, but I did do it once. Well…I didn’t do it, I was the pilot, she, just a friend, jumped out,” he said. “We videotaped it; you should watch it on YouTube sometime. I flipped the plane upside down; she unbuckled and slid right out.”

  “I don’t want to have to do that,” I said. “Aborting then parachuting from a flaming bottle rocket is not on my bucket list.”

  He laughed. “You’re in good hands baby.”

  “Oh, I know and I wish your hands were all over me right now.”

  “You got it. Tonight?”

  “Yes. Tonight.”

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “For you or the plane ride?”

  “Both.”

  “I’ve never been more ready,” I said.

  I’d Googled aerobatics after seeing the magazine on his coffee table so I sort of knew what I’d signed up for. I suspected that this flight was a test—to see if I could hang. Literally hang, upside down, sideways or any other way he could flip, roll or spin us.

  He slid on his sunglasses and gave me a kiss. Our every interaction was combined with a kiss. Look at each other—kiss, smile at each other—kiss, give a compliment—kiss, say a smart ass remark—kiss kiss.

  “Whatever you do, don’t throw up. If you throw up it will land right in my face.” He said with fear in his voice. “You don’t think you’ll throw up do you?”

  “I hope not,” I shrugged.

  He took a deep breath, disliking my answer. Then we stood facing each other in our paratrooper outfits and he kissed my lips again with a wet, swirly kiss.

  I hobbled to the plane unsure of how I’d be able to maneuver all the gear strapped to my skeleton out of the plane if I needed to escape a burning inferno. He helped me into the front seat of the cockpit then forced a hideous leather helmet fitted with a microphone onto my head—mushing my hair to my forehead and ears.

  “Why does it say experimental?” I asked, looking up at the large red letters across the top of the plane.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, then began the flight procedures tutorial. “In case we need to get out. I’ll say ‘get out, get out, get out’ three times. Then you abort.”

  “Hold on. Do you mean you’ll yell ‘get out, get out, get out’ three times for a total of nine? Or just the first three?”

  “I will say it three times then you abort,” he said. “How do I abort?”

  “I’m getting to that. Be patient. If you need to abort, unbuckle yourself like this,” He buckled me into the co-pilot’s seat with a harness that looked just like the one in Dani’s car seat when she was two. “Turn this dial clockwise,” he said.

  “Which way is clockwise? As if I am looking at it from your perspective or mine?”

  “From my perspective,” he showed me again. “Make sure to get clear of the plane before you deploy your chute.” He grabbed a metal handle that was tucked inside a pocket on my chest. “If you need to deploy the chute, pull this straight forward, hard, with both hands. Remember,” he said sternly, “pull it straight out, away from your body…hard, only after you clear the plane. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, baby, then I’d have to die too.”

  “I feel the same. Do you think maybe we can die together like the old couple on The Notebook?”

  “Never seen it.”

  “You’ve never seen The Notebook?”

  “Is it good?” He asked.

  “Yes, it’s good. Anyway, can we die together? Maybe we can just go up for a joyride when we’re really old and never come back.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Let’s do that. After our grandkids are old. I never want to know what life is like without you.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “This gage will tell you how many ‘G’s’ were pulling.” He pushed a reset button and the needle dropped to zero.

  “What are G’s?”

  “You’ll see. Put your feet up there on that metal bar. Don’t touch any of these cords and keep your legs away from the joystick.” Then he leapt into the pilot’s seat behind me.

  “Hey, can you do sky writing in this plane?”

  “Yes,” he said. Then yelled, “Clear!” Loud into the air.

  Except for the farm cats, there was no one around for miles.

  ***

  U can have me

  always & forever. :)

  Chapter 32

  “ONLY FROM THE HEART,

  CAN YOU TOUCH THE SKY.”

  —RUMI

  What if he dies in a plane wreck? No one would ever know I was the love of his life, and that he was the loss I could not bear.

  The propeller stuttered and skipped before the white bird roared to life. He revved the engine like a teenager with shiny new Mustang, then we rolled onto a narrow strip of well-manicured grass hidden within a tasseling corn field.

  It sounded like we were talking through walkie-talkies, with a scratch at the beginning and the end. “Baby, are you ready?”

  “Yes!” I tried not to sound scared but I was terrified.

  We catapulted forward, whizzing past a golden blur of corn, heading toward a shelter belt of thick pine trees. The plane shook so violently I was surprised when it actually lifted off of the ground. I felt the crushing G force against my chest as we careened into the air just above the bristly trees.

  The native tall grass prairie had long since been replaced by flaxen fields of rolling wheat and dense green quadrants of soybeans. The landscape was a patchwork quilt of crops all the way to the horizon. A river cut through the valley, meandered through groves of trees and around heirloom farms where rusty metal silos stood tall in the front yards.

  His voice came scratching over the radio, “I love you baby!” He yelled, thrilled that I was hearty enough to go flying with him.

  “I love you!” I yelled back against the roaring wind.

  “Think you’re ready for some action?” He asked.

  I forced fearlessness, “Bring it on!”

  “Okay, hold on!”

  With a sharp dig, he veered the nose straight up. The G force crushed my insides and sucked my face tight to my skull like I’d had an overdose o
f Botox. But I was far from looking beautiful while being whipped with gale force winds, I felt more like a Saint Bernard with my lips and gums flapping, peering out the window of an SUV at two hundred miles an hour.

  The gazillion straps and buckles that guarded my life and kept me inside the experimental aircraft had tightened around my every bulge, squishing my breasts and pressing the air out of my lungs.

  “Hang on!” He yelled through the head set.

  I white knuckled the abort handle above me as we looped up and over, making a full backward somersault. I looked at the G meter—4. Adrenaline and lack of oxygen made my head feel goofy, but surprisingly, I was still fine.

  Not so bad, I can do this.

  “You good?” He asked.

  “I’m great! Let’s do it again!”

  He angled the nose upward, the tail plummeted and immense pressure crushed my chest and ears as we began another upside down loop. The ratchety hum of the plane went silent as it dug deep into its guts fighting against the gravitational forces it was being asked to overcome. I was sucked back into my seat and my seat was sucked back into me as we jettisoned up and over.

  The G meter held its position, moving only if the G forces exceeded the previous meter’s reading. I checked the gauge—5.

  “You still good?”

  “Yep!” I think I wasn’t sick because my senses were so assaulted they’d slipped into a coma and stopped reporting their findings.

  His encouragement sputtered over the radio. “Honey, you’re the best woman ever! Everything is so much better with you!”

  Worth it—so worth it.

  “I’ll do one more loop, then we’ll do something else, okay? Can you take one more?”

  “I think so!” I yelled into my headset and gave him a thumbs-up.

  He darted to a higher elevation, the temperature dropped ten degrees and the atmosphere became eerily calm. We dug in one last time, the tail dropped; air pressed out of my lungs and my blood was forced downward into my boots. When we came out of the loop, my head bobbled in slow motion, woozy from the pressure and I was being strangled by the very straps meant to save my life. I looked at the G meter—6. I didn’t know if that was a lot or a little, but it was enough for me and he sensed it.

  “No more G’s, I promise.” He said just before he rolled us horizontally through the sky in a candy-cane pattern, then pitched us straight up into a vertical climb.

  I’d heard a story about how Grant had taken one of our friends flying then pulled a maneuver where he flew straight upward allowing the plane to stall. Then when the plane plunged downward he could test his skills on how to get it to fly properly again. It scared the eyeballs out of our friend. Just when I thought I heard that white bird start to cough and choke, he planned it out and spared me from the crash test landing.

  “No more tricks okay?” I yelled over the headset, my voice constricted and dry.

  The air went smooth—from stomach clenching stunts to an eagle’s eye view. I was now looking at the skyline, a panoramic vista that was breathtaking; a thousand shades of tie dyed lavender and blue, and wispy, cotton balls of fluff surrounded us. We flew like we were suspended in the thin atmosphere. It seemed like we were barely moving.

  I had never thought about touching a cloud, not for real. It wasn’t something I ever imagined I could do. But now, we were sprinting straight toward it. It got shivering cold and my eyes refused to blink as we entered the semi-transparent plume. For a few brief moments we were engulfed in a hazy heaven. I reached out to touch it but the wind nearly dismembered my arm. Grant laughed loud at my idiocy; I could hear him howling over the roar of the wind. We were inside the marshmallow cavern for a few fleeting seconds before it spit us out, back into the familiar atmosphere of the pale blue dot, but a few seconds was enough to give me a glimpse of what heaven, if there is a heaven, might look like.

  “Baby, look!” He yelled. “Straight ahead, low on the horizon, do you see the brightest star?”

  “Yes!”

  “That’s Jupiter,” he said.

  I became fixated on the shimmering speck, the wonder of its presence and how its existence had escaped me all these years. It lived right above me as I lived oblivious below, mistaking it for just another ordinary star. He was showing me a world of new and wondrous things and was helping me see them through new eyes.

  It was just before sunset when we landed smooth on the runway in the middle of the corn field. We taxied to the hangar, he helped me out then helped me take off my aviation gear. With both arms tight around my torso, he lifted me off both feet for a celebration hug.

  “I’m so glad we survived,” I said, teasing. “Just kidding, Grant that was spectacular. You’re spectacular.”

  “You make me that way. And, you make me want to be even better. Meet me at my place?” He said.

  “Yes,” I nodded, “cant wait.”

  “Bye, love. I’ll be right behind you,” he said, as he finished putting away our gear and securing the plane. “Open the wine and get cozy.” He blew me a kiss as I walked away.

  When I rounded the corner and was concealed behind by the steel building I released my breath, abandoned my smile, and fell to my knees.

  The gravel stamped pock-marks into my palms and tears raced toward my chin. I closed my eyes, bit my lip and winced as I forced myself to stand. I was lame. Once a thoroughbred with shiny chestnut hair, promising victory to her supporters, she was now injured, downed in her stall, unable to run and waiting for the bullet.

  I slid one leg into my car, then flopped down uncontrollably into my seat. I pulled in my other leg and drove away sobbing. It wasn’t getting better, I was getting exponentially worse.

  I lay on the carpet in his living room waiting to go numb. Red wine and another little white pill were starting to kick in, and soon, at least for a little while, it would be as if there had been no pain at all. My phone lit up.

  On my way 2 u, baby, and

  u r not going 2 believe

  what I’m going 2 do 2 u.

  After a brief rest, I’ll

  slowly turn u over and

  back 2 me. I’ll pull u up

  on ur knees and slowly

  put myself gently inside

  u, deeper and deeper.

  I loved our scandalous sext messages, I’d never done anything so saucy. I was impressed by his continued commitment to shock me as another one chimed in.

  I’ll reach down and

  touch u just the way u

  like it, just the way u

  showed me, and then

  I’ll show u how I like

  it, things you’ve never

  known, things we’ve

  never done…until u…

  By the time he walked through the door, my pain was anesthetized, but my skin still tingled under his touch. I tilted my head back in delight, allowing him full access to kiss me the way I needed to be kissed. I laid on the floor dazed by romance, wine and pain killers.

  “Our life together will be so great, baby,” he said, “it already is. But it’s about to get better.” His sly grin tipped me off that he’d been planning something.

  He dropped in another cork, Blackstone Syrah, it read:

  G+C

  1st Flight

  He filled my glass with a generous pour and ordered me onto the floor.

  “Sit here,” he pointed to a nest of blankets and I obeyed. He slipped my tank over my head and skimmed his lips across my exposed back, humming a delicious mmm…

  The lacy straps of my bra slid easily down my shoulders and he settled in behind me. Grant’s warm hands kneaded my constricted muscles melting them into pliable taffy.

  “Baby, you deserve to have this every night,” he said.

  “I do?” I said, groggy and bobbling from side to side. “This is heaven. I haven’t been that good of a girl.”

  His low voice rumbled, “Oh yes you have, and I have a surprise for you—several, actually.” A sneaky grin hid behind his
voice. I undulated under his touch as he pressed his hands deeper into my tiny musculature. “I bought us some massage oil, candles, and…you know. I hope that’s okay, only if you want.” He swung his head to the side to catch my expression.

  “Of course that’s okay, that’s perfect. So I guess we’re not waiting until Fiji?”

  “I think we already blew that,” he said, “but we’ll still go there someday, you know we will.”

  But I didn’t know we will. This was all way too good to be true, and although he hadn’t faltered on any promise yet. I’d never been in a relationship that hadn’t let me down. In fact—I’d never even seen a relationship where the woman wasn’t let down. Nothing is this perfect.

  “Stay here.” He kissed my lips with his signature loud smack, “Mwah!” then catapulted over the back of the couch disappearing long enough for me to finish my wine and lose any last inhibitions.

  When he sauntered back, he was beaming with the aura of a man about to make love to his woman. He held out his hand, pulled me into him, and escorted me to his bedroom. With his hands gripping tight around my hips, he lead me into the scent of sensual jasmine, and into the dim-flickering light of candles. It was just enough to make out each other’s silhouette without revealing any embarrassing details.

  And the sound…ah, the sound.

  I had no idea what it meant at the time, but I knew it was exotic, authentic, and from a world I didn’t know. Sultry foreign sounds reverberated off the walls intensifying each touch.

  The smell, the music, the way we swayed, it was perfect and planned, calculated down to the placement of the pillows on a bed of fresh linens. In the center of his warm room, we stood, woven into each other, flaming with sexual desire from nothing more than fingertips on skin. He traced the contours of my back touching low where the skin was sensitive and normally would have made me cringe. But tonight, I realized…I had no pain.

  “I love the music,” I said as we swayed.

  “I picked it for you—for us.” He pulled me tight against him moving our hips as one.

  “Who’s is this?”

  “The Buena Vista Social Club.” He dipped me, “they’re from Cuba. Baby, let’s go to Cuba someday.”

  “Cuba?”