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Vee and I both picked at our food while Lorenzo and Gabriel cleaned their plates, and then Vee stood up and said, “I should go see if Sleeping Beauty has regained consciousness yet, so I can give him a ride to the ferry dock. Have fun today. I’m looking forward to hearing about Will 2.0’s high-flying adventures.”
I muttered, “Let’s hope it’s not a cautionary tale about high-altitude panic attacks.”
Gabriel got up too and offered to help clean up, but Lorenzo gathered the plates and said, “I’ve got this. Go enjoy your morning.”
After they thanked him and took off, I helped Lorenzo do the dishes. Then he picked up a picnic basket he’d packed for us, and as I followed him to the parking lot, I asked, “How’d you get so much done and still find time to shower and change in only half an hour?” His dark hair, which was just starting to go gray, was slightly damp, and he’d exchanged yesterday’s jeans, T-shirt, and flannel shirt for an almost identical outfit. Meanwhile, I’d taken a stab at dressing casually with pale gray pants, a white button-down shirt, white sneakers, and a dark gray denim jacket. I just couldn’t help myself when it came to making sure everything was color-coordinated.
“It only takes five minutes to shower and get ready.”
“Speak for yourself. It took me the full half-hour, and I didn’t even have time to straighten my hair.”
He grinned at me and said, “I like your curls.”
“They’re a mess, and I’m weeks past due for a haircut.”
“You’re terrible at taking compliments.”
“I know.”
He’d made arrangements to borrow one of the resort’s Jeeps, and soon we were rattling down a dirt road, headed to the center of Catalina. I’d almost forgotten just how rugged the island’s interior was, since I rarely ventured out there. I knew about the bison because they wandered onto the property occasionally, but to see a large herd of them amid the rolling hills and stark landscape was odd. It felt like stepping through a portal and suddenly finding myself in another place and time.
When we eventually reached our destination, it was different than I’d expected. It was called ‘Airport in the Sky’ because it had been built atop one of the largest mountains on the island. The main building was a long, vaguely Spanish structure with a terra cotta tile roof and a boxy tower that jutted from the center of it. It all seemed vintage, but I couldn’t begin to pinpoint the era.
Lorenzo led me into the nondescript lobby and said, “It’s going to take me a while to do my preflight checks. You’ll probably be most comfortable in here while that’s happening.” He put the picnic basket on a bench and lifted the lid, and then he took out a celebrity gossip magazine and handed it to me. “Hopefully that’ll keep you entertained.”
“You really are remarkably thoughtful.”
He said, “I try,” before going to do whatever preflight checks were.
The back wall was lined with windows, so I took a seat looking out over the tarmac and watched him. Several planes were sitting out in the open near a large hangar. His was white with blue stripes down the side, which could be said for at least half the planes out there. Not that I knew anything about aircraft, but his didn’t seem very modern. I didn’t have a clue if it was ten years old, or twenty, or fifty. It also didn’t look like much. The wings were positioned directly on top of the cockpit in a way that made it seem a bit squashed, it had a propeller at the front, and that was all I could really say about it.
Lorenzo spent all kinds of time circling the Cessna and inspecting various things that probably had some vital importance to keeping it airborne. He was so meticulous that I actually started to feel slightly better about going up in that thing. It might be so basic and no-frills that it seemed like aviation’s answer to the VW Beetle, but it was obviously a very well cared for Beetle.
Eventually, he returned to the lobby and told me we were ready to go. I loved the way excitement sparkled in his dark eyes. We crossed the tarmac side-by-side, and as he secured the picnic basket in the backseat, I took a look at the plane’s interior. It contained four slightly faded blue vinyl seats, and little else. That was mildly disappointing. Part of the reason I’d wanted to do this was to learn more about Lorenzo, but the plane was a blank slate.
He climbed into the pilot’s seat, and I took the one beside him and fastened my seatbelt. There was a steering wheel in front of each of us, shaped a bit like a squared off ‘W’. All I could think about was how utterly fucked we’d be if I had to reach for that wheel at any point.
