Shall Not Sleep [bxb]

Chapter Sixteen

We dropped Douglas off at Selena's in the early morning. She stood on her porch, holding Douglas and making him wave goodbye to us as Mom backed out of the driveway. Douglas's little round Ewok face peered at me and his tail wagged a little bit. My eyes filled with tears.

"I think this was a bad idea," I said.

"Dougie will be fine," Mom said. "Look, Selena loves him."

"I—I know," I saed, and then I just stopped talking.

Because Mom wouldn't get it. I couldn't tell her how scared I was to walk up to Lansing Hall and ask it all my questions.

We drove out to the airport and fumbled through checking in and going through security. The Callan family was not a traveling family. We'd been on a couple camping trips and that was the extent of it. The airport, full of people rushing around and going a billion different places, was a whole new world to me. I watched everyone, aware that it looked super creepy, but I really didn't care. I was just blissfully happy that I found something, anything, to keep my mind off what was coming.

Three hours of waiting went by in a blink and soon we were boarding our first plane—we had a short layover in New York before crossing the Atlantic. I had a window seat and Mom sat beside me, her nervous fingers almost tearing holes in her shirt.

"Calm down," I told her over the sound of my own racing heart. "It'll be okay."

"I should have brought my Xanax, I should have brought my Xanax. Why didn't you make me bring my Xanax?"

It was like every time we'd ever been on a roller coaster. Mom was fine until she was sitting in her seat with her seatbelt on and rolling slowly towards the first hill, then she started melting down. I tried to calm her while secretly panicking inside, too. We would both scream and laugh and have the time of our lives on the actual ride. At the end, Mom would climb off with shaky legs and rue the day she ever had a child who liked roller coasters, swearing never to do it again. I would follow her off the ride silently, too happy to even speak.

When we walk off the plane and into JFK Airport, Mom's hands flailed in the air as she cried, "Oh, Maxie, what was I thinking, letting you talk me into this?"

I didn't say anything. I smiled into the palm of my hand. The rush had gone to my head.

I was getting closer to him.

Part of me was super confused. What? Earlier you were scared shitless. Now you're excited? I told that part of me to shut the hell up.

"We should have some dinner," I told her. "I'm starving."

We ate greasy hot dogs in front of a big window, where we watch planes landing and taking off and taxi-ing out.

"Holy crap, we're in New York!" Mom suddenly exclaimed.

A family of tourists behind us gave her a funny look.

"Yeah," I laughed, pointing out the window. "Look, the Empire State Building!"

The tourists look where I'm pointing. Mom giggles. There wass no Empire State. We were miles outside Manhattan.

"Well, England, here we come," Mom said, pulling out our tickets for our next flight. "New York to Manchester, and then a train to Lansing."

I nodded. The giddiness was fading, the anxiety returning. Goddamn it, I wished I could decide what to feel. I took a big bite of my hot dog. Maybe a mouthful of 100% all-beef would help.

"Max," Mom said. "You haven't told me why we're going."

I pointed to my mouth. Can't speak, mouth full.

She continued. "I mean, it's a nice place and all, but it's a little out-of-the-blue, don't you think?"

She gave me a prompting look, like she was just waiting for me to say what she basically already knew.

There was only so long I could chew.

"Remember the Adopt-a-Soldier thing?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Well... there's a lot I haven't told you about that."

When I didn't say any more, she nudged my arm.

"And? Is that why we're going? To meet this soldier?"

I hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Kind of."

She heaved a sigh and leaned back in her chair to look out at the gray New York sky that could be anywhere's sky. "I wish you would tell me."

"I know. I will. Not yet, though."

"Okay." She nodded. "Well. We'd better find our gate. I don't want to get lost."

*

We got on the plane, going through the same "I wish I'd brought my Xanax" song and dance. After a few hours of chatting and looking out the window at the Atlantic far below us, the lights dimmed and the shutters on the windows fell, plunging us into fake-night. Mom fell asleep almost instantly, and one by one the passengers around me did, too. The whole plane filled with snores. I was alone for the first time since we left the house and it felt like a sigh of relief. I could finally think a little bit.

I turned on the little overhead reading lamp and reached to the very bottom of my carry-on bag. I pulled out Alastair's letters. I brought all of them, to save me from resorting to airplane radio or a bad movie.

I reread each of his letters, from the very beginning. From the whimsical ones where he calls me "odd" and "strange" every other word, to the ones where he became a little more shy, to the ones where he all-out declared that he loved me. Pretty quick, I realized that rereading them was a bad idea. Crying on an airplane has got to be one of the saddest things you can ever, ever do. A woman about Mom's age stared down the aisle at me with the worst pitying look on her face.

But I didn't care. I kind of needed pity, to be honest. I was hurtling over the ocean to meet the most uncertain fate.

I reread Alastair's last letter the most. Over and over, and each time I got to the end, I ask him, what happened to you? Where did you go?

When fake-night ended, Mom woke up with the lights. She saw me shoving the letters away.

"What was that, Max?" she asked, yawning.

"Nothing." I glanced up at the screen that showed a little airplane icon, flitting in slow motion across the Atlantic. "Look, Mom. We're flying over Iceland."

We craned our necks to look out the window. We were flying over snow and mountains and valleys.

"I've never even thought about Iceland before," Mom said. "Let's go there next."

Iceland looked all right. But I didn't even want to think about the future beyond tomorrow.