Read Online Flight by Darren Hynes - Free Book Online Page B

number?”
    â€œIt’s a combination of letters and numbers.”
    â€œOh.”
    Emily listens hard, writes the confirmation in block letters along the bottom of the bill.
    â€œBest to check that everything’s on schedule several hours before departure time. Quote the number I’ve just given you. Is there anything else, Miss?”
    â€œNo, that’s all. Thank you.”
    â€œThank you for flying Air Canada. Have a nice day.”
    She returns the phone to its cradle, but keeps her hand hovering over the top, the pad of her palm nearly touching. She exhales the breath she’s been holding. A shiver goes through her. She feels its journey from her toes to her heels, up her calves and hamstrings, along her spine, and into her head.
    If it’s the right thing to do, then how can it suddenly feel wrong?
    She tries sitting back only to find herself leaning forward again, her right elbow on the desk while its hand takes the weight of her forehead.
    Will Lynette and Jeremy be better off, she wonders? Is she helping by taking them away, or just making things worse?
    She jumps when she sees the shadow along the floor. Looks up to see Terry standing in the doorway.
    â€œDidn’t mean to scare you,” he says.
    How long has he been watching? What’s he heard?
    â€œYou shouldn’t sneak up like that.” She wonders if his feet touch the floor when he walks. You turn around one minute and no one’s there. The next, Terry’s standing right behind you.
    â€œSorry.”
    The less anyone knows about her trip to the west coast, the better, she thinks. All it takes is one slip up. One misstep. Like a chip in a windshield that turns into a crack and runs the whole length of the window. “What do you want?” she says at last.
    Terry shoves his hands in his pockets, fiddling away with his coins. “Nothing. Only that the rain has stopped and would you maybe like to join me outside for a bit of fresh air?”
    She grabs the electric bill off the desk, folding it in half and shoving it in her pocket.
    â€œI’ll be right up.”
    Terry lingers a second before going.
    Although she’s just put it there, she slides her hand back in her pocket to be sure. That’s her way, lately, doing something and then not trusting she’s done it. How many times in the basement at home, for ex- ample, has she wedged her fingernails beneath the floor panel to be sure that the money she’d just put there is there? How often too, has she written down the plan only to rip it into tiny squares a moment later?
    7 a.m.: Wake.
    7:05: Wake children.
    7:06: Get money from basement.
    7:10: Fruit Loops for Jeremy; Honeycombs for Lynette.
    7:15: Wash face and hands. No time for bathing. And on and on.
    Sometimes, on her days off, she’ll take the children down to where the ferry docks to watch the passengers get on and off. Other times, the three of them will make the forty-five minute ferry journey themselves, for practice, although she’d never tell them as much. Soft-serve in cones. Chocolate for Jeremy; a mixture of strawberry and vanilla for Lynette. Then up to the second level to watch the ferry pull away from the dock, their hands gripping the railing. They’ll ask why their dad’s not with them. “This is just for us,” she’ll say.
    She takes off the sweater and reaches over to switch off the desk lamp, then just sits there in the dark.
    The last time she took the ferry she was alone. Three weeks ago. The children in school; Kent in meetings. The day off from the grocery store. Her father waiting there in his car. The whole way to Gander he played the radio and tried talking but he’s terrible at talking, so eventually he shut up. At the kitchen table afterwards, over tea, her mother patted her knee and asked if everything was okay at home. She nodded, said things were fine. “You know what would be perfect with this tea?” she said