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ONE
BLAZE
I must have beena masochist in my previous life. That’s the only logical explanation for my decision to fly from Baltimore to San Ramon for the holidays. Initially, I had planned to leave the day before Christmas Eve, a prospect possibly even more chaotic. However, a problem with my building’s heating system forced me into a hotel two days ago, prompting me to take an earlier flight. It seemed more practical to head home sooner rather than to linger in a hotel room for days.
As I made my way down the aisle looking for my seat, a sudden shove against my back caused me to stumble forward. Grasping the seat back in front of me, I steadied myself, receiving a disapproving glance from the dark-haired man seated there. Looking over my shoulder, I restrained a sharp comment when I saw an older woman struggling with her bag. She tugged at it again, narrowly missing my hip with her elbow.
“Can I help you with that?” I offered, ignoring the impatient stares from the line behind us.
“Thank you, young man,” she gratefully responded, her smile widening as I hoisted the cumbersome bag into the overhead compartment she pointed out.
As I eased into my seat, I stretched my legs with a deep exhale. At six feet one inch, I wasn’t the tallest in my family - that honor belonged to my younger brother Fury - but my height made me fully appreciate the perks of first-class travel, especially on a lengthy journey like this.
I waited until the flight attendants finished their routine announcements before pulling out my phone to check my emails. Even though I was on vacation for the next week, I liked to stay updated on work. Last week, Johns Hopkins University’s semester ended, and thanks to no final papers, I could prepare for next semester’s classes. Although I was ahead of schedule, I had no intention of slacking off.
After I checked my email, I set my phone aside, thinking how excited I was to see my family, especially my younger brother, Fury, and our little sister, Rose. With me living in Baltimore, Fury in California, and Rose in Colorado, our opportunities to meet were scarce. However, we kept in touch through frequent phone calls and messages.
I sometimes wondered whether my parents would have approved my decision to pursue a doctorate far away. I would never know. They passed away when I was eleven, and my aunt Theresa Carideo and her husband Patrick McCrae took us all in. We had a great upbringing, but being the oldest, I always felt responsible for my siblings. It was hard to leave them for college, and the years in between hadn’t made it any easier.
Despite that, they were fine without me. The business Fury had started with our step-cousin/brother, Cory, was thriving, and Rose, with her veterinary degree from Colorado State University, had recently purchased a horse ranch.
Hence, the reason I was traveling during the holidays. It wasn’t because I was a masochist in a previous life. This Holiday would be a rare event: we would all be together.
A chime signaled an announcement from the cockpit. “This is your captain speaking. We’ll be beginning our descent into Chicago shortly. Please be aware that we may encounter some rough weather, so expect a bit of turbulence. For your safety, stay seated with your seatbelts fastened.”
The seatbelt light illuminated, and a buzz of concern spread through the cabin. Flight attendants moved along the aisles, offering reassurances. While they weren’t thrilled with the captain’s mention of weather challenges, their professionalism continued as they prepared us for landing.
A perky blonde stewardess sauntered past me as I sat in my window seat, contemplating how much I hated flying. She gave me a flirty wink and gently brushed her hand against my shoulder, enough to let me know she might be interested in more than just serving drinks during our upcoming stopover. I might have been tempted if I hadn’t been in a hurry.
Since my disastrous marriage ended twelve years ago, I’ve stuck with casual relationships and fleeting connections. Occasionally, someone would try to take it to the next level, resulting in our breakup.
The flight attendant seemed like a low-risk dalliance, but I wouldn’t risk missing my connecting flight for a brief fling.
But I could be tempted if we crossed paths again on my return flight.
The plane touched down safely, and I disembarked, swiftly heading to my next gate, relying on my knowledge of the airport. But my speedy pace came to a stop when I spotted a crowd of people glued to a flight information screen. Looking up, I saw all flights were marked “DELAYED.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
Being familiar with this airport, I immediately headed for the nearest lounge. Glaring at the flight status screens for the next hour wouldn’t alter my circumstances, but maybe a drink could ease the growing anxiety.
The lounge was rapidly reaching capacity, yet I found a vacant seat at the bar. “A whisky, neat,” I said as the bartender drew near. “Your finest selection.”
Although I wasn’t a McCrae by blood, growing up within their family circle had cultivated my taste for Scotch and whisky. Brody, the eldest on the McCrae side, had a penchant for crafting his own whisky brands and generously sharing them, thus spoiling us all.
The first sip from my glass confirmed that this whisky was comparable to Brody’s recent concoction.
“Layover or delay?” The gray-haired man beside me inquired, turning slightly toward me.
“Delayed on a layover,” I replied. “What about you?”
“Same,” he sighed, draining his glass. “But with the weather being what it is, I doubt we’re leaving anytime soon.”
I noticed a slight slur in his speech, making me wonder how long he’d been drinking here. But worry about the weather overshadowed my curiosity. Being stuck in this airport with a crowd of Christmas travelers was my worst nightmare.
I took a cautious sip of my whiskey, refraining from the temptation to quickly finish it and order another. Keeping alert seemed wise, particularly considering the mayhem that would ensue if multiple flights were grounded. The airport would become chaotic as people frantically searched for alternative travel options. However, I would go all out if they officially canceled my flight—anything to dull the surrounding nightmare.
A hockey game was being shown on the bar’s TV when the man next to me started talking again. He was excited about the game, and under different circumstances, I might have found his commentary entertaining. Now, he was just annoying.
