Flying Too Close to the Sun by George Jehn (most inspirational books TXT) 📗

“You should know the answer to that question. You were the one who had the affair. Now you ask me to help someone who’s probably not even my son. You have no right.”

“I’ve told you many times. If you want proof we could do a paternity test,” A contrite Ursula pleaded. “I am certain Erik is our son. I openly confessed and begged for your forgiveness. I was young, foolish and confused, trying to adjust to a new life and culture in America. How many times must I beg you?” she uttered with raised hands, tears welling up in her azure blue eyes causing the room lamps to reflect off them like headlights in a storefront window.

“I did not want any tests back then and still don’t. I was humiliated. You ruined my life. Maybe you can tell me why Erik doesn’t even resemble me?”

“He takes after me. What more can I do or say?” a now weeping Ursula implored him.

He held her gaze. Even though she was ageless, he could no longer make love to her. He had tried many times, but the vision of the neighbor doing the same always returned and nothing worked. This rumination was revisited each time and became his inescapable prison so he finally quit trying. He had originally hoped to find someone new, but never did. The years passed and the resentment built. “I don’t want to discuss this when he’s upstairs,” Joe yelled, waving a shaky hand in the direction of Erik’s room. “He might be listening. I know he understands some German. So shut the hell up!”

.     .     .

For what seemed like the thousandth time Erik understood what was being said through a door barely filtering the words and it still disturbed him. Although no longer traumatized, recalling when he had first understood his father’s rage, his mother’s admission of infidelity confused a young Erik. He had double-checked what was said in a German-English dictionary to be absolutely certain and knew he was the bastard son Joe referred to, a tearful revelation he carried around bottled up inside ever since. These things were not supposed to happen with your asexual parents. How could Joe not be his father? What kind of person was his mother? Many times he considered telling Joe he knew. If they could bond in this knowledge maybe then he would get the paternity test and put this question to rest, forever? But his thoughts turned to fear, because what if it turned out he wasn’t? Erik didn’t want to think about that.

Joe Preis got up and stumbled to the master bedroom furnished with twin beds. The anger slowly abated like the heat from dying embers of a fire, due to the alcohol he consumed to extinguish them and enable sleep. His thoughts turned to the young man in the other room. Should he have done the paternity test years ago? Back then, as now, his embarrassment and Teutonic psyche wouldn’t allow it. Instead, pent-up rage was vented on the only two people who were close enough to continually feel its fiery effects.

CHAPTER TEN

Christina skillfully guided the swept-wing stretched, denoting lengthened to accommodate more passengers, Boeing 727 toward a routine landing in Boston. It was the third segment of the two round-trip shuttle trips between New York’s LaGuardia and Boston’s Logan Field. The western sunset and beauty of the sparkling day’s end reflecting off the blue ocean waters surrounding Logan should have cheered her up, but instead she was pensive. “This ain’t as much fun as it used to be,” she sighed, recalling the many accolades her flight instructors had bestowed on her piloting abilities and how they didn’t mean a damn thing now. “And boy, am I tired,” she continued, yawning in Woody’s direction. She learned from reading fatigue could be a symptom of epilepsy and wondered if how she felt was due to her illness or state of mind? She next asked Woody, “Have you heard anything about Shuttle Air getting new planes? You always claim to have the inside track.”

“I heard from a confidential management source management might be buying new jets to replace these aging 727’s. Notwithstanding these days of planned obsolescence, these old babies have held up well,” he said, gently patting the arm of his seat.

“At least we’re better off than had we stayed with East Coast Airlines.” Christina smiled faintly, pleased with having made the move when the shuttle operation was sold off. “I don’t know what I’d be doing now after East Coast has shut down.”

Seemingly, no matter what she pondered everything returned to the m-word; money. It was alimony for two ex-husbands and child support payments for her teenaged son, Jimmy who lived in Florida with his father along with another sizeable expenditure that ate up a large chunk of every paycheck. Then there were also David’s expenses.

Turning to Woody she asked, “You’re married, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I got hitched to the one and only quite a few years ago.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“I’m a two-time loser in the marital sweepstakes, divorced twice in the last seven years. I always figured flying was pretty much a single person’s game due to the lifestyle. Plus, being the female pilots’ media representative exacerbated the situation because it translated into extra time away for interviews and dinners. Both exes were the jealous types and sued me for divorce. The second one replaced me with a whiskey bottle,” she mentioned in half-jest to determine Woody’s reaction. Just then, however, the Boston approach controller cleared them for landing, so she shifted gears. “Enough of the marital tour, let’s get back to work. Flaps two degrees, please, then put the landing gear down and let’s perform the final checklist.” Christina purposely omitted the grounds of each divorce were allegations of her infidelity. There were also other secrets buried too deep for her to divulge.

.     .     .

Christina liked working with Erik Preis as he was young enough to eagerly accept