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

holed up in the bedroom, telling David she was studying for an upcoming checkride and didn’t want to be disturbed. In reality, she was formulating an intricate plan, known only to her. Once the basics were in place, she scrutinized it from every possible angle and could find no flaws, which brought an impending sense of freedom from her prison cell of epilepsy. There was risk involved, but she believed it could definitely work.

David knocked and stuck his head in the room as the afternoon shadows were forming outside. “Done studying yet?” he asked.

Christina stretched on the bed, while closing the small pad she was using. “Yes. I was going over all the procedures because it’s no longer like being tested in the aircraft where there were lots of maneuvers they were fearful of checking because if you screwed up everyone could get killed. Nowadays everything is done in the flight simulator, meaning I’ve got to know and precisely perform each one, so there’s a lot more studying involved. Come and lie down next to me,” she offered, patting his side of the bed.

She had been with David Bennedeto for roughly a year, after they met at a company-sponsored picnic. Initially there was a physical attraction, but after getting to know him better she realized he was narcissistic. But his negatives were offset by the crosscurrent of emotions a young Christina had experienced watching her mother trying to cope after her father had run off. The corrosive effects of total solitude destroyed her mother’s spirit and the dread of the same thing happening to her outweighed anything else. But she sporadically tried to convince herself being alone might be better than with David; that it could deliver serene isolation. But the thought of such loneliness subsequently had returned to paralyze her, so David remained.

Lying there, he offhandedly remarked, “My grandmother, Isabella Rosario was eighty this past week and the family’s celebrating tonight at her Brooklyn home. You wanna go?”

A surprised Christina immediately sat up. “Why…yes. I was wondering why you never introduced me to your relatives.”

“Maybe now’s the right time?” he mumbled.

.     .     .

They drove Christina’s car in silence except for the radio, arriving at their destination on Sixty-Third Street in the very Italian Bay Ridge section of Brooklyn approximately forty minutes later. Most of the last names on the mailboxes of the square-shaped brick homes lined up like Army barracks ended in vowels, although Christina also noticed some Asian surnames. Like others spots in Brooklyn, this neighborhood was probably changing. After parking about a half a block away, instead of entering via the front door they went to the side and descended into a large living room, replete with what appeared to be a very old black and white TV, well-worn rug and a plastic covered couch with gaudy flowered patterns. The huge kitchen had a yellowed linoleum floor and an enormous table with too many place settings to count. Offsetting the decor were mouth-watering fragrances, seemingly as dense as the Boston fog. It looked like at least fifty people were packed into two rooms with most screaming and communicating with hand gestures, while kids darted about. On the surface it appeared to be bedlam, but Christina quickly realized it wasn’t as coherent conversations were seemingly taking place. David walked around introducing her to everyone, eventually standing at the head of the long table beside an older woman with white, thinning hair and clouded eyes as if they were narrowed by a lifetime of disappointment. Will I look like that if I make it to her age? Christina wondered.

“How are you, Grandma?” David asked.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” After hugging and kissing him, she asked while nodding toward Christina, “Who’s your pretty friend?”

“This is my girlfriend, Captain Christina Shepard.”

Christina was caught off guard by David’s use of the word captain.

“Does she own a boat?”

David shook his head. “No. She’s a jet captain at the airline.”

Motioning with her hand the woman commanded, “Bring her here.”

Extending her hand, Christina was caught off-guard when the woman pulled her into her full bosom and imparted a big, wet kiss smack on her lips. The lady actually felt like she had whiskers! Quickly stepping back, Christina sputtered, “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rosario.”

“You call me Grandma, okay Captain?” The eyes brightened, just a bit.

“Sure...Grandma.”

“You Italian? You don’t look Italian.”

“No. I’m American.”

Grandma said, “Ciao,” dismissing them with a wave of her hand and turned to others waiting to offer birthday greetings. Christina grabbed a seat alongside David. Was it for protection? Before she knew it, table-cracking portions of pasta, followed by tasty homemade meatballs and sausage were passed out in chipped dishes with different patterns. One of David’s aunts hollered, “C’mon, Captain, mangia, mangia,” as jugs of red wine were opened and tiny glasses were filled to overflowing.

Right after dinner everyone broke up into small groups. The women drank coffee, cleaned off the table, washed the dishes and chatted, while the men played cards, smoked and conversed. Never one to join the dishwashing brigade, Christina sat with the men. Soon, a short and stocky fellow with penetrating dark eyes, David’s uncle Juni was seated beside her, as close as any red-blooded and married Italian male could do without raising eyebrows. Between sips of espresso he said, “You must be the pilot David’s dating.”

“That’s me.”

“Did he tell you I used to work at a bank that did equity deals for the airlines?”

“No. He never mentioned that. You still work there?” she asked, crossing her legs.

After a not-too-furtive glance at the slender legs, he replied, “No. I left some time ago.” Handing her a business card, he quickly added, “But if I can ever be of help, please call.”

Christina thought it odd the card gave the name of the Genoa Italian bakery and Juni Rosario, Owner, along with home and business phone numbers; not quite in line with a bank job. She placed the card in her pocket and they went on to chat about various airlines’