Before Samuel died, Marcus and I had seen each other when schedules allowed. Afterward, I grew used to saying I was fine and keeping my grief in my own house. This visit had shown me how much I missed ordinary days with my son.
“I’ll go home next week,” I said. “Then I’ll visit more often.”
“I’ll come to you, too.”
“You’d better.”
We smiled at each other.
That night, I placed Samuel’s letter back in Marcus’s hands. He had left it on the guest-room dresser after showing it to Zoe.
“It belongs with you,” I said.
He slid it into his bag.
“Dad wrote that he hoped you’d see me fly,” he said.
“I did.”
“Maybe next time it can be an easier trip.”
“I’d like that.”
I thought about seat 2A, the rain on the airport window, and the pride I had felt before Rachel approached. I wasn’t ready to fly again the next day. I knew I would be ready someday.
Three months later, Marcus asked if I wanted to come on another flight.
Zoe had a short break from college. Dana had invited us all to spend a weekend with June. Marcus was flying the route and had bought me a ticket.
“You can drive with Dana instead,” he said. “I won’t mind.”
I looked at the booking he had sent. Seat 2A.
I called him.
“You chose the same seat.”
“It’s a good view.”
I waited for the old fear to rise. I felt it, but it was smaller than it had been.
“I’ll take it,” I said.
On the morning of the flight, Dana and Zoe met me at the airport. Marcus had gone in early. Zoe stayed beside me at the gate, talking about a model she had built for class. I checked my boarding pass once.
Then I put it in my handbag.
When our group was called, I walked down the jet bridge with Zoe. I found 2A and sat by the window. Dana and Zoe were a few rows behind us. I could hear Zoe telling her mother which buildings she hoped to see when we took off.
A flight attendant came over and introduced herself as Carla.
“Good morning, Ms. Carter. Can I help with your bag?”
“I’ve got it, thank you.”
She smiled and moved on. I looked down at my hands. They were steady.
Marcus stepped out of the cockpit while passengers were still boarding. He saw me and came over.
“Everything all right, Mom?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at the view through my window.
“Better weather this time.”
“Then you have no excuse to hide the city in the clouds.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He squeezed my hand and went back to work.
We reached June’s city on time. She met us outside the airport and insisted on hugging Zoe first because, she said, college had made her too grown-up.
At her house, we cooked together. June gave Marcus a box of Samuel’s old photographs she had found while clearing a closet. In one, Samuel stood beside an eight-year-old Marcus holding a paper airplane. Marcus laughed when he saw how crooked its wings were.
“That one flew,” I said.
“For about two feet,” June replied.
“It flew,” Marcus insisted.
We placed the picture on the mantel for the weekend.
The next morning, Zoe and I walked to a small park near June’s house. She told me her first college presentation had gone badly. She had rushed through the part she knew best because she was nervous.
“I thought everyone would decide I didn’t belong in that class,” she said.