At the Cheyenne, WY regional airport, a Cessna made an early evening landing and taxied to the ramp for refueling. Its pilot, Scott Andrews, was done flying for this day. He went into the attendant\u2019s building and arranged to hangar the Skyhawk. He asked about nearby accommodations.
\n\t\u201cThere\u2019s a Super 8 right here. There\u2019s a bar called the Cloud Nine Lounge.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSay, by the way, isn\u2019t this where that kid died?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYep. Jessica went down right about over there,\u201d the man said, pointing to the little residential area that bordered the airport. People often ask about that. We are not so proud of it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah. I can imagine. My wife got onto the topic a while ago. For some reason it stuck in my mind.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah. Her last words were \u2018do you hear the rain, do you hear the rain?\u2019\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeow. This was on the cockpit recorder?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNah. They flew a Cessna kind of like yours. No recorder. She was on the phone with her mother.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s tragic.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYep. Enjoy Cheyenne.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThanks.\u201d
\nAfter taking care of post flight business, Scott headed for the Cloud Nine. He got himself a booth and a beer and called Lana. It was odd, but he didn\u2019t see her location on Google maps. Perhaps she\u2019d turned her phone off. They\u2019d been in major tiff mode when he left. <\/p>\n
Lana looked up into Julian\u2019s face. He looked as though he were going to burst into tears. She felt such a surge of emotion herself for him at this perception that she pulled his head down towards hers and kissed him on the mouth. <\/p>\n
At just that moment, she heard her phone ring. It was that goddamned song, \u2018up up and away;\u2019 it was Scott. She broke off that divine first kiss.
\n\t\u201cShit, I\u2019d better pick up. I should have turned off that damn phone.\u201d She put her fingers to her lips to indicate the need for stealth.
\n\t\u201cHey,\u201d\tshe said, without any detectable emotion.
\nJulian sat in the big lounger, quietly. He listed to Lana\u2019s side of the call.
\n\t\u201cWell, that\u2019s probably because I was fooling with it and somehow managed to break that tracking app. I\u2019m sitting here where you left me. Tory and Mea say hi.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo Scott, I\u2019m not still mad at you. Should I be?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI know you love me. You just have a fucked up way of showing it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019m glad you made Cheyenne OK.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo I didn\u2019t know her last words. That\u2019s a heartbreaker.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThe blogging is going just fine. I\u2019m doing a recipe for Johnny Cake.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s a pioneer dish.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIs that your whole report?\u201d
\n\t\u201c\u2019K, bye.\u201d
\nJulian had his head on his hands.
\n\t \u201cScott.\u201d
\n\t\u201cUh huh. Sorry.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s quite alright. I should call Lana. She thinks I went for a walk.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure.\u201d
\nJulian fished in his coat pocket for his dumb phone. He peered at it, pushing its buttons.
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s ringing,\u201d he said. Lana nodded. \u201cHmm. No answer. She must be toasted.\u201d
\nLana laughed.
\n\t\u201cSo, my beautiful man, where were we?\u201d
\n\t\u201cWe were breaking the law.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWant to break it some more?\u201d
\nHe stared at his phone. The ache in his crotch was a dull one. The ache in his head was sharp and poignant.
\n\t\u201cI remember a book by Clement Stone.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat book was that?\u201d
\n\t\u201cThe Success System That Never Fails.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNever?\u201d
\n\t\u201cWell, hardly ever.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat makes you think of it just now?\u201d
\n\t\u201cHe has a little saying, \u2018do what is right, because it\u2019s right.\u2019\u201d:
\n\t\u201cUh oh.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou can\u2019t do this, can you Julian?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo, I can\u2019t.\u201d
\nShe let the silence speak for a moment. Then she said,
\n\t\u201cI understand and respect that. I am disappointed. But we are always going to be friends. I have a bond with you that can\u2019t be broken. If it can\u2019t also be consummated and explored, that is a little sad, but it\u2019s not as sad as a seven year old pilot going down, telling her mother to listen to the rain.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou\u2019re not dead yet, you mean.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI really have to head back. I have miles to go before I sleep.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOf course. I don\u2019t suppose that you\u2019ll kiss me goodbye, perhaps one last time? I would love it if you would. I will always remember this time.\u201d
\nShe saw that he was crying. Her heartache also caught up with her now, and she too began to leak tears. He bent down, and gave her a kiss on a salty cheek. Then, he grabbed his coat and dressed for the outside onslaught.
\n\t\u201cAre you heading back to Parkersburg.\u201d
\nShe nodded.
\n\t\u201cBut first, I\u2019ll just be in the room a bit. I may call Scott back.\u201d
\nHe smiled at her, and nodded.
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s been lovely to meet you,\u201d he said.
\n\t\u201cLikewise.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll see you in the bloggersphere. \u201c
\n\t\u201cRight, my eternal Facebook friend.\u201d
\nShe opened the door for him, and her hands flew to his nearest one. She grasped his hands and looked up at him.
\n\t\u201cSafe travels, Julian. Listen to me and understand this. I love you helplessly. You are a wonderful, sweet man.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI love you also, my muse.\u201d
\nThen he turned and walked to his car. She stood in the doorway, letting winter pour in to freeze her heat. She watched him as he pulled out and drove off. She closed the door, and sat on the edge of the bed and began to sob. After her crying jag subsided, she stayed prone. She decided against calling Scott again. Instead, she lay back on the bed and fantasized about Julian and inhaled his smell that still lingered on her hand. With the other hand, she masturbated. She was desperate by now. She spent the night alone in the hotel. In the morning, she drove back to Parkersburg.<\/p>\n
On the long drive back to Stephens City, Julian mused about whether he had done the right thing after all. Such opportunities did not arise endlessly in life. He could now face Dana with a clear conscience, and that was easier. It was a burden lifted. He knew he\u2019d done right by her, although he\u2019d wasted a fair amount of time and gas to meet \u2018that whore with the blog.\u2019 He thought also about \u2018that whore.\u2019 She was, he thought again, no such thing. She was a very lovely young woman with a great talent. He now understood that she was not Amy, but she was certainly as sexually oriented as Amy. She was, he thought, more like Clytemnestra. She was resilient and surefooted. She knew her own mind, knew what she wanted, and made a direct line to get it. She was now determined to end her marriage, or at least cheat. He felt sorry for Scott all of a sudden. He did not feel sorry for himself. He also pondered his feelings for her. He loved her in a strange sort of way. She struck him as a daughter and not as a lover. He was at peace with himself about that. He was, he thought, quite right to put her down on the other side of the river. He knew himself better than to think he\u2019d put her out of his mind in any real sense. True love is forever, and that goes double if you never do the nasty.<\/p>\n
In the morning, Scott flew the final leg of his series of hops, and got into Oakland late in the afternoon. It was a long haul in a Cessna. He had tail winds, and made good time. He had to refuel once, but then he was back up and at it. It was hours of boredom. He thought about Lana. He resolved to check out her blog as soon as she gave him the word it was up. He thought Johnny Cake sounded interesting. Of course, Oakland International was huge. He\u2019d never been here before, and his air traffic protocol was a scoach rusty. He\u2019d made it in, flying IFR, doing as told, lining up his approach as directed, tuning in the glide slope and letting the autopilot bring him in. He got a bit confused with the taxi situation. Eventually, though he had his bird all chocked down on the ramp and he made his way for a bite to eat. As he munched down his burger, he saw that Lana was now reported to be in Parkersburg at the club Coyote Gone Wild. He suspected that she was out with Miller\u2019s wife, and also Ms. Roiter. Good for her. He\u2019d let her have her lark and call her later.<\/p>\n
The business at hand was to take the shuttle out to the Ground Cargo ramp where he was going to meet Fred Nance. Fred had this huge aviation consortium and was promising the moon in terms of a big client base. He wanted to waste no time, so he called Fred and let him know he was in town, and at the airport.
\n\t\u201cSure, Scott. We\u2019re open late. Come on around.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019m just finishing up with a bite to eat. I think I can get over there in a half hour say.\u201d
\n\t\u201cGood, good. Bring me your goodies.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI got my brochure and our catalog is always on line.\u201d
\n\t\u201cGreat. Looking forward to your pitch.\u201d
\nScott arrived at the building and found the way in. It was corrugated metal, and full of stuff. Shelving, paper, parts, drums, all the stuff that made flying doable and kept people from dying doing it. Fred was a balding, paunchy man in a Hawaiian shirt, short sleeved, even in winter.
\n\t\u201cHey, Mr. Nance! Great to meet you at last.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSame, Scott. My pleasure.\u201d
\n\t\u201cDid you get a chance to look over our catalog?\u201d
\n\t\u201cWell, I\u2019ve looked at it before, but at the moment I can\u2019t get online because my daughter is over there eating up the bandwidth on youtube.\u201d
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s too funny.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah, she\u2019s a fiend with a phone.\u201d
\n\t\u201cMy wife also.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah. The kid is crazy about this blog. It\u2019s a woman from your neck, actually.\u201d
\n\t\u201cReally? My wife\u2019s been talking about doing a blog. What\u2019s this woman\u2019s name?\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt\u2019s Amy, I think.\u201d
\n\t\u201cAh. My wife\u2019s name is Lana.\u201d
\nHearing the men discussing her favorite blog, Genna Nance popped her head around the corner of the metal shelving that obscured her from the desk.
\n\t\u201cTalking about me? My ears are burning.\u201d
\n\t\u201cGenna, this is Scott. He\u2019s from Parkersburg. Scott, this is my daughter Genna.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNice to meet you, Genna.\u201d
\nGenna was about Lana\u2019s age was Scott\u2019s guess.
\n\t\u201cI love this site. The woman is bonkers.\u201d
\nShe handed Scott the phone. Out of courtesy, he took it. Genna had thoughtfully called up Amy\u2019s profile. There, looking out at him from a smart phone was the crystal clear image of Lana. It was that picture of her beaming about her scones. Scott\u2019s face turned a bright red.
\n\t\u201cThat\u2019s\u2026that\u2019s\u2026her. That\u2019s my wife.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWow. That is so cool.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI don\u2019t know\u2026 I mean, she mentioned that she wanted to blog. I didn\u2019t think you could put one of those things up so fast.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, you can put one up really quick, but this one\u2019s been up for months. It\u2019s like totally viral. It\u2019s like the number one personal blog nationwide, maybe worldwide. This woman\u2019s famous. You are one lucky dude.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou said she was bonkers.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah. She writes all sorts of sexy stuff. You seem surprised. Is this news to you?\u201d
\n\t\u201cTotally. I had no idea.\u201d
\nScott\u2019s mind was reeling.
\n\t\u201cWelcome to the real world, dude,\u201d said Fred.
\nScott was struggling to parse this. He was also trying to get back to the business he\u2019d flown all the way out here to do. He wanted to get to his pitch, but he needed to get to that blog. Later.
\n\t\u201cSay, I\u2019d like to talk to you about Aviation Synergies. But do you mind if I write down the name of that\u2026 my wife\u2019s blog?\u201d
\n\t\u201cSure,\u201d said, Genna. \u201cHere it is. I\u2019ll jot the title on a scrap of paper. \u2018Amy Tells All.\u2019\u201d
\n\t\u201cOh, jeez. Thanks much, Genna.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYer totally welcome. Say hi to Amy. I feel like I should get your autograph. But of course it\u2019s your wife\u2019s that I want. No offense.\u201d
\n\t\u201cNone taken.\u201d
\nIt was the first in a series of seriously disorienting realizations. The truth came bursting in with all of its matter of fact. He got down to pitching his business, and put the blog bullshit on his back burner. But it stayed there in a furious simmer.<\/p>\n
The moment he got a chance, in his hotel room, lying back on the bed, he peered at the screen of his phone, and read the latest from \u201cAmy Tells All.\u201d It was the one in which Amy told him he was an asshole, basically. <\/p>\n
Having digested the scalding fact that she\u2019d lied to him all along, or at least for a good long while, and that she\u2019d taken advantage of his absence to go do the nasty with some admirer or other, not to mention what all else he saw there about cats and shit like that, none of it as simple as recipes or any of that shit she\u2019d said she wanted to do, and the idea that she was doing this in public, humiliating him, not mentioning him by name, but still\u2026 Shaking with rage, he speed dialed Lana.
\n\t\u201cHey.\u201d He could hear the commotion going on at Coyote\u2019s.
\n\t\u201cWhat the fuck are you doing!\u201d he shouted into her ear.
\nShe pulled the phone back away from her head. She stared at it for a second. She could hear him shouting even over the din in the bar.
\n\t\u201cWhat is the fucking matter with you, Scott?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou can tell where I am and you can guess what I\u2019m doing.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ve discovered your fucking blog, \u2018Amy Lissa.\u2019\u201d
\nAll of sudden, she thought she might throw up. She turned off the phone.
\n\t\u201cHey! Lana! Are you all right?\u201d Christine was shouting over the clatter of dishes and the buzz of chit chat.
\n\t\u201cNo. I need to go home. Now.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d asked Lisa. Coming in to the bar area from the dance floor. She had seen Lana on her phone and seen her blanch, sort of double over, and throttle that iPhone. It did not look like good news.
\n\t\u201cScott found the blog!\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou mean Amy?\u201d
\n\t\u201cYes!\u201d
\n\t\u201cFuck!\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt was bound to happen. Everybody else on the planet has discovered it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ve got to run, girls. I\u2019ve got to take that thing down before the idiot reads all of it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK. Get to it.\u201d
\nShe grabbed her coat from the back of the chair where she\u2019d stowed it, and she was out the door before she had it buttoned. She was in the car and peeled out and pounding on the wheel saying \u2018fuck, fuck, fuck,\u2019 as she barreled ass for her house. Once in the door, she skipped taking off her boots and tracked her snow and mud all over the white carpet on her way to the computer. She was at it in a flash, that site. She navigated to settings and she changed its privacy setting from public to private. She made herself the only person on the planet that could access it.<\/p>\n
In his hotel room, Scott was staring at his iPhone. She\u2019d not only hung up on him, but she\u2019d turned the damn phone off. She was nowhere on the planet to be found. He sat there still seething, trying to think of what to do next. He got up and paced a little bit. He thought of calling Bruce and trying to get him to go over to the house and maybe put her under some sort of house arrest. That seemed like a bad idea on second thought, because he thought Bruce was somewhat sympathetic to her, and would likely only aid and abet. Then it occurred to him that they were all in on it. He remembered now the Christmas Eve toast to \u201cLana\u2019s blog.\u201d What a crock of shit! OK, so what all else was on this blog. He picked up the phone and tried to access it. He got a message saying, \u201cit appears you have not been invited to this private blog. Try contacting the owner for permission or log in under a different account.\u201d This was, he understood, the invisible hand of Lana, locking him out. What else was she going to lock him out of?<\/p>\n
His next act was a little nutty. He was at an airport hotel. He needed to get back to Parkersburg. He decided to ditch his Skyhawk and get on a commercial flight.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
At the Cheyenne, WY regional airport, a Cessna made an early evening landing and taxied to the ramp for refueling. Its pilot, Scott Andrews, was done flying for this day. He went into the attendant\u2019s building and arranged to hangar the Skyhawk. He asked about nearby accommodations. \u201cThere\u2019s a Super 8 right here. There\u2019s a bar called the Cloud Nine Lounge.\u201d \u201cSay, by the way, isn\u2019t this where that kid died?\u201d \u201cYep. Jessica went down right about over there,\u201d the man said, pointing to the little residential area that bordered the airport. People often ask about that. We are not so proud of it.\u201d \u201cYeah. I can imagine. My wife got onto the topic a while ago. For some reason it stuck in my mind.\u201d \u201cYeah. Her last words were \u2018do you hear the rain, do you hear the rain?\u2019\u201d \u201cYeow. This was on the cockpit recorder?\u201d \u201cNah. They flew a Cessna kind of like yours. No recorder. She was on the phone with her mother.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s tragic.\u201d \u201cYep. Enjoy Cheyenne.\u201d \u201cThanks.\u201d After taking care of post flight business, Scott headed for the Cloud Nine. He got himself a booth and a beer and called Lana. It was odd, but…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-127","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","comments-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=127"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/127\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=127"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=127"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=127"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}