Jacqueline Druga - What Tomorrow Brings

She slipped deeper into her row, grateful she had a window seat and shook her head when she saw Mark apparently smooth talking the flight attendant because she happily helped him stow his bags even though he was breaking the rules.

As she sat down, she saw the same soldier from the gate. He was still on the phone. He took the seat in front of her.

“Why are you still there?” he said on the phone. “Listen to me. No… listen to me.”

Oh, this is going to be annoying , she thought, hang up the phone, we’ll be leaving soon.

He plopped down hard in the seat causing it to flap back at Kit.

“Oh my God, Jenna, please, please listen to me,” he said, his voice soft yet cracking.

Kit would have gotten irritated had she not heard how emotionally he sounded.

She felt bad. Obviously the solider was dealing with something that was beating him up. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, it was just impossible not to.

Tune him out , she thought.

Her flight plane was simple, while everyone else wanted to settle into a slumber on the overnight flight, Kit planned on reading. In the age where everyone had electronic reading devices, she pulled out the old tattered paperback of, Alas, Babylon . It was in horrible condition because it had been read a million times. It was her father’s favorite book, and he gave it to her on her last visit east. The cover looked like something out of an old 1980s movie, even though the novel was written decades before that. He had wrapped it like a Christmas gift and probably noticed the look on her face when she opened it.

“This book is my favorite,” her father told her. “I must have read it a hundred times. I want you to have it. I believe it will mean as much to you as it does to me. Promise me you’ll read it before I see you next.”

“Daddy, I don’t read.”

“Kit, promise me.”

“I promise.”

Kit never did. She would on the flight. It was at least one last thing she could do for her father.

“I love you so much,” the soldier said. “This is the only way.”

Kit lifted her eyes then felt the presence in the middle seat next to her. His arms brushed against hers as he adjusted in his seat. “Good book,” he said.

She flipped over to the cover as if she didn’t know what the title was and she smiled politely. He had only spoken two syllables to her and Kit knew the man wasn’t from Seattle. His heavy southern dialect bled though his words. He had a pleasant face that was buried beneath a scruffy five o’clock shadow and the brim of his baseball cap rested at the top of his forehead.

Kit inched over some more toward the window. Space was tight and she knew that bright green neck pillow was going to be tapping the side of her head the whole flight.

He grunted. “Uh, so much for premium seats and extra leg room.”

Kit looked over. His knees nearly touched the back of the seat in front of him, where hers didn’t come close. He didn’t look that tall, perhaps he just had long legs.

“At least the drinks are free with these seats, right?” he said.

“Yes.” Kit replied, then repeated that simple smile and nod. She didn’t want to be rude, but she also didn’t want to engage in conversation. She wasn’t in the mood.

He didn’t really say much more during the rest of boarding, he just played with the air system and light.

Kit opened the book. Maybe he would see she was occupied and he wouldn’t bother her.

Finally, everyone was on board, the flight attendants started closing the overhead bins and moving things round. Kit tried to focus on the first page, but the soldier kept up his phone call.

“I’ll get in trouble. I can’t tell you. I have to go. I’ll find you. I promise I’ll find you. Leave. Now.” The soldier paused. “I love you.”

Kit lifted her eyes from the pages.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the man next to her said.

Kit didn’t respond.

“Ma’am?” he tapped her on the shoulder.

He was talking to her? Kit faced him. She was clueless that when he said ‘ma’am’ he meant her.

“Looks like no one is sitting there.” He pointed to the empty aisle seat. “I’m gonna move there. I just don’t want you to feel insulted.”

“I’m sorry… why would I feel insulted?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to think you smell or anything. You know me suddenly getting up.”

“I won’t be insulted and I won’t be worried you think I smell.”

“Sweet. Thanks. Bit more leg room.” He scooted over, moved left to right before finally moving his leg into the aisle. “Ah,” he exhaled. “Yeah, that’s better.”

When he closed his eyes, Kit saw that as a sign that things would get peaceful. The soldier was done arguing, the southern guy was going to nap and Kit was going to dive into that book. It was a little late, she wouldn’t be able to discuss it with him, but if it was the last thing she did she was going to keep her promise and read that book before she saw her father again.

Regis Rolland wasn’t a bad person, nor was he complicated. He was just a quiet man and deep thinker, his quietness was often misunderstood as attitude or pompous. Especially as of late, his father’s death was just the final straw in a long series of events that emotionally beat Regis.

His sister Deana championed him for being anti-Mark, while his mother and Kit chastised him for not being supportive. Regis didn’t hate Mark, he loved his baby brother, but he was just tired of picking up the pieces of his younger siblings’ life.

It was fine and well when Mark would blow through a relationship, but his recent change of heart didn’t just hurt his wife, it hurt his seven year old son. The person Mark seemed to forget about. When the repo company came and took his wife’s car, Regis bailed her out. When they were foreclosing, Regis stopped it. Mark’s soon to be ex, Liza worked hard but didn’t make enough money to cover all of Mark’s debt he left behind. When his son Brice needed shoes and food, Regis was there, never thinking twice. Where was Mark? A thousand miles away, flashing his mortgaged porcelain smile and SAG card making minimum wage acting in a Bruce somebody, or other film.

Regis didn’t want thanks, he just wanted his brother to do what was right. Maybe Regis was wrong, maybe Mark just couldn’t. Maybe Mark didn’t know exactly what was right because like Regis was doing now, somebody had bailed Mark out of trouble his entire life.

Deana knew, but Kit didn’t. Regis didn’t tell her because he just didn’t want to shatter her delusion of her loveable baby brother. He just stopped talking to Kit for fear he’d run his mouth.

Although he knew, now with the passing of their father, it was really not the time to be at odds.

His father always had a way of keeping everyone together. Maybe his passing was one of those ways.

Regis felt bad that he didn’t help Kit with her bag. After she declined a simple slice of pizza, she certainly wouldn’t want his help. She probably would have said, “No thank you. You suck.”

That would destroy him, Regis was already having a tremendously hard time. His world crashed again with the death of his father, now he not only was on a plane filled with nervous soldiers, he was seated between two of them.

Internally it was a lot to handle.

When he first was seated between them, Regis struck up a conversation with the soldier to his right.

“You boys out of Lewis?” Regis asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you being deployed?”

“You uh, can say that.”

“Godspeed. My son was out of Fort Lewis. Seventh infantry division.”