High Flight - Cover

High Flight

Copyright© 2013 by Robert McKay

Chapter 20

Well, things moved along. I did my out-processing, and Max didn't put on her captain's bars – not right away, that is. I found a company which would hire me and was willing to wait not only till I'd left the Air Force, but another month after that, just so long as I'd let them put me on the payroll sooner. I did their paperwork too, and was ready to go in that respect. And then the day came that I took off my uniform for the last time, and hung it in the closet, and looked at it for a moment.

When I turned away from the closet finally, I found Max at my shoulder – she'd come over for the occasion, not to make a ceremony of it, but just to be there. "It hurts," she said now.

"Yes. I'm not sure if it hurts less now, or more, than it did at first, but it does hurt."

"And I'm the cause of it..."

"Max," I said, "we are the cause of it. You pursued me, but I didn't run hard enough, or fight hard enough, to make you back off. All I ever said was that you're an officer and I was an enlisted man, and I always let you run right over that protest."

She looked at me, and then took both my hands. "Should I have listened?"

I looked into her eyes. She was ready to cry, not because she hurt, but because I did. And at that moment I knew the true answer. "No, Max – I'm glad you didn't listen. I'll get over this. But I could never get over driving you away. I love you, Max, and tomorrow I'm going to marry you, and that's worth all the rest."

She nodded. "I hoped you'd say that. I couldn't stand it if you changed your mind now."

"I won't change my mind – not now, and not ever." But I did change the subject. "Your parents got in yesterday all right?"

"Yes." She let go of my right hand to look at her watch. "They're in the middle of the get-to-know-you lunch with your parents right now. I just hope they can understand each other."

I chuckled. "Your parents' accent will certainly be different from what my parents are used to hearing."

"Derek Alba, my parents don't have an accent. Neither do I. It's y'all folks from Massachusetts who have an accent."

"What's with this 'yawl' stuff? A yawl is small sailing vessel."

Max laughed. "I'm not talking about any boat. It's 'you all, ' and it's a lot better than 'youse guys.'"

"Hey, I am not from New York!"

"I know – you're from the howling wilderness of central Massachusetts. But I'm from Midwest City, and I know how to talk."

I looked at her, my pale blonde lady from Oklahoma, and I was glad that she hadn't retreated in the face of my feeble protests. "If you try this sort of teasing tomorrow, after the wedding, I'll pick you up and toss you on the bed."

"Perhaps you could do it, too," she said. "And perhaps I might let you do it."

"And perhaps I might just walk away and leave you there, and never come back," I said, but I couldn't hold back my smile as I said it.

"If you did, beloved, I'd pursue you again. I'd chase you down, and bring you back."

"It would be a short pursuit, and I wouldn't fight very hard against coming back." I gathered her into my arms and kissed her. "Tomorrow, Max, you'll become my wife. I can't wait."

"I can't either," she murmured into my ear. "I didn't have any thoughts of marriage at all the day I met you, and now four months later I don't have any other thoughts." She raised her head from my shoulder, and with one hand stroked my cheek. "I'd better go, Derek. We're not married yet, and temptation is stronger than ever."

I nodded. "I don't want you to go, babe, but I need you to. 'Stronger than ever' is an understatement. We've waited this long – we'll wait till tomorrow."

She nodded in her turn, and with a wrench pulled out of my arms and went into the living room. I followed, and found her putting on her Korean parka. "You've got everything for tomorrow?" she asked.

"It's all ready."

"Then I'm gone, beloved. One kiss and then you have to see me out the door."

I gave her one kiss, my hands on her shoulders to prevent either of us from drawing us dangerously closer, and saw her out the door. And then, feeling equally miserable with missing her and joyous because tomorrow we'd become husband and wife, I set out unpacking boxes. We'd been moving boxes a few at a time from her place to mine over the past couple of weeks, and it was time to make room for her things. And so I worked through the rest of the day, the labor helping me to keep the thoughts of Max at bay.


Since getting to the church on my motorcycle wouldn't have been practical, Max's brother picked me up the next morning. Roddy – it hadn't taken long for me to take up the custom of their family – pulled up a couple of minutes before the time we'd agreed on, and I locked the door behind me. Before I got in the car I checked my pockets – I had the ring in the left pocket of my coat, and Max's key to the apartment in the right, to give to her whenever an opportune moment arose after the wedding.

Roddy drove well, for Oklahoma City is larger than Albuquerque. He did comment on the insanity of drivers who slowed to a crawl to turn corners or to enter driveways, and seemed utterly flabbergasted by one car which, without any indication from a turn signal, crossed two lanes of traffic to make a left turn. I'd gotten used to the way Albuquerque residents drove in the seven months I'd been living in the city, and seeing Roddy's reactions reminded me of my own. Boston's drivers have their own idiosyncrasies, and so did Victorville's as I'd learned when I'd been at George, but it seemed to me that the driving schools in Albuquerque ought to give refunds right and left. Their students clearly hadn't learned what the schools purported to teach.

We got to the church safely, though, and parked. Roddy looked more uncomfortable in a suit than I was; he kept tugging at his collar. Finally I said, just before we went inside, "If you unbutton the top button, and just pull your tie sufficiently tight, you might feel better."

He glanced at me, and did it. "How did y'all know that?" he asked. He'd never lived outside of Oklahoma and his accent was even stronger than Max's.

"I've been wearing suits my whole life. I've gone to poetry readings, and novel readings, I've attended opera performances, the ballet – I've lived much of my life in a suit."

"I couldn't stand it," he said – it sounded almost like Ah couldn't stain it, or maybe stan it. "This is bad enough." And with that he opened the door and let me precede him.

Max was already there, in the dress uniform she'd chosen to wear instead of a dress. We'd planned on a dress, but after looking at prices she'd asked if she could alter that portion of the plans – and after hearing about the prices, I'd readily agreed. She'd already had the uniform, though she seldom had occasion to wear anything but a flight suit, and it was the Air Force's version of a suit. I somewhat wished we'd chosen to buy a dress anyway, for I had yet to see her in one, and no one has yet designed a military uniform that's flattering to women. The female dress uniform hat is especially unattractive, and though she could have worn her flight cap, with its edging of silver to set it apart from an enlisted person's, she'd gone the whole way. I saw the uniform hat on the front pew as I approached, and disliked it as much as I had the first time I'd seen one.

"Hello, beloved," she said in a gentle voice.

"Hello, Max."

"Are you ready?"

"I've been ready," I told her. I looked around and asked, "Where's Earl?"

"He's downstairs – he had to jettison some caffeine. He'll be back shortly." And in fact I saw him coming up the stairs even as Max spoke.

When he'd reached us, Earl asked, "How detailed a review do you need?"

I looked at Max, who said, "Just enough to be sure I know what I'm doing."

I nodded. "I think I've got it, but I'd like a run-through of the basics as well."

"Very well then." Earl looked around, and gathered in the other participants with a gesture. "Here's how we'll do things..."


Half an hour later, I was sitting on a pew in the back of the auditorium, with Roddy beside me. The church didn't have an organ, but someone had installed a keyboard for the occasion, and I knew that it would serve quite well – only a full-blown pipe organ could have sounded materially better, as I'd learned when the keyboard player had done a few runs for a quick sound check. Now he noodled along for 30 seconds or so, and then burst into "Here Comes the Bride." I turned my head, and here came Max from the foyer, her hair loosed from its regulation bun for the occasion, and my sisters walking on either side of her. I followed her with my eyes as she walked – no hesitation step, but not marching either – to the front of the auditorium. Once there, in front of the platform from which someone had removed the pulpit, she stopped and turned halfway. She was on the left side of the aisle, facing the right hand wall, but she'd turned her head to watch me.

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