#after a while during a job trip he meets Tyler on a plane | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

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Sanctuary - Chapter 21

Warnings: profanity but that’s about it

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

They meet in a coffee house two clocks from their hotel; arriving separately, hoping not to draw attention to themselves. There was no way of telling of how far word had spread. If the news that a solider for hire had travelled out into the general community or if the people responsible very keeping it on the downlow in fear of escalating tension. There was already longstanding angst between the IRA and everyday folk; their acts of brutality and domestic terrorism were decades old and while silent, still had the propensity to flair up at a moments notice.

Tyler is already on his second extra large black coffee when Yaz arrives; the younger man casually slipping into the bench across from him, iPad in one hand, his own SAT in the other.

“That shit will kill you,” Yaz remarks, wrinkling his nose at how incredibly strong the brew smells; the colour as dark as fresh black ink.

“Too late. I’m already dead inside.” Tyler retorts, and removes his sunglasses and places them on the tabletop, followed by his personal cellphone.

Esme had sent him videos that the kids had made for him: Tanner bragging about how many popsicles he ate in one sitting, TJ showing off his black eye and swollen nose, and Mille proud as shit that she’d been the one who had inflicted the damage. She had no shame; she wasn’t sorry and refused to apologize and declared she would do it again in a heartbeat if he so as much breathed on her the wrong way. And then the baby; with his very first haircut, freshly erupted teeth, and a handful of words that seemingly cropped up over night.

The loneliness is intense. Those beautiful little faces and those cute, soft voices telling him how much they missed him. How much they loved him and couldn’t wait for him to come home.

He rubs his hands over his face. He’d managed to trim the beard. Had taken the clippers to his hair. Followed by a long, cold shower that did little to calm his nerves and worry but had successfully managed to aggravate every bit of arthritis that existed in his body.

“You look like shit,” Yaz comments, and then peers into his mug. “Black, huh?”

“Yeah. Like my soul.”

Yaz smirks, then orders a caramel latte from the waitress that drops two menus onto the tabletop. His eyes following her as she walks away; eyebrows arched as he admires the way her hips sway from side to side and the way her skirt just seems to hug each and every curve. “You look like shit,” he says, as he turns back to Tyler. “Get any sleep?”

“Not really. You?”

He shakes his head, and pushes one of the vinyl bound menus across the table. “Eat something for fuck sakes, can’t have you wasting away on and perishing from starvation in the middle of a job. Nik would beat my ass. And your wife would kill me.”

“You realize I could break you in half with my bare hands, yeah?” Tyler smirks, as he flips open his menu.

“I do. And do you realize I’ve actually had nightmares where that’s happened? Where I’ve pissed you off and you’ve just gone medieval on my ass? I’m not ashamed to admit that you scare the ever loving shit out of me. I’m glad we’re friends, man. I’m just saying. Because I really do not want you to kill me with a garden rake.”

“That’s played out. I’d use something more creative. Like a tire iron. Or a pitchfork.”

“Nothing surprises me about you anymore. So after we talked, I couldn’t turn my brain off. It was like it was in overdrive. Firing on all cylinders. I can’t wrap my head around this. I can��t figure out how they made us that quick. We didn’t go through any airports, we didn’t have to check through customs, there was no flight manifesto. At least not one with our real names. How?”

“They had us made before we even got off the plane. Probably before we even left Colorado. There’s someone inside. A mole. There has to be. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Maybe McCann? Maybe he is in on this. Maybe this is some big game.”

“I think it’s someone on the team. He even told me when we first met that he’d paid to get my information from someone and that’s how he tracked me down all the way in Guatemala.”

“How fucked up is that? That he actually showed up there and followed you? Like a goddamn stalker.”

“How fucked up is it that that’s not even the most messed up thing in all of this?” Tyler counters, and casts a glance towards his cell phone as it vibrates against the table. Taking the opportunity to check on the notification as the waitress returns with Yaz’ drink, and her phone number. The latter she boldly tucks into the breast pocket of his shirt before flashing a dazzling smile before taking their orders as if nothing even happened.

“Well shit…” Yaz’s eyes once more follow her backside as she heads to the kitchen with their requests. “…and she’s’ cute too!”

“And legal,” Tyler smirks, as he types out a quick reply to his wife’s text message.

“Fuck you,” Yaz mutters. “That was a complete mistake. I didn’t realize she was that young. You could have been my wingman. Had you not gone into the bathroom to get laid. And thanks for that, by the way. I had to piss in an alley out behind that bar.”

“Take it as a badge of honour to know your godson was conceived while you were taking a leak outside and taking one for the team.”

“You two conceive your kids in the most fucked up places, I swear. Is anything normal with you guys? Or did you just figure, ‘hey, we started this shit out during some craziness, let’s keep the trend going’?”

“Excuse me for not being vanilla like you. Which is why I have a very satisfied wife at home and why you have callouses on your palms and carpal tunnel.”

“Sometimes I really hate you, you know that? Think I should call her?”

“Why wouldn’t you? She’s cute. She’s obviously into you. She was brave enough to give you her number. Maybe she’s brave at other things.”

Yaz smirks. “I like the way you think. Maybe I don’t hate you after all. This never happens, you know. When we go somewhere together. You’re the one that is usually getting all the phone numbers. Which you don’t even use, by the way.”

“Why would I? I’m married. Happily.”

“At least pass them on to your boy. What is wrong with me? How long have I had to struggle as your sidekick? How long have I had to witness women tripping over themselves to get your attention? You and the blue eyes and all the muscles.”

Tyler grins. “I’m flattered, Yaz. I never knew you had a crush on me. If I swung that way, I’d probably give you a chance. I’d probably split you in half though. I don’t think you could handle all this.”

“You’re a very disturbed individual, did you know that? There’s something seriously wrong with you. You’re not my type anyway You’re too...pretty.”

Tyler snorts. “I’m pretty? You have some pretty messed up definition of pretty, then. The tattoos, the scars. How’s that pretty?”

“The eyes. The hair. The smile. The big arms.”

“Alright, alright. I’m getting a complex here. Quit flirting with me and let’s get down to business. What did you find out?”

“Quite a bit actually,” he powers up the iPad and leans it against the napkin holder and condiment dispenser at the edge of the table, so they can both see it. “It wasn’t that hard to find. And I’m honestly surprised none of us thought of doing it before. Looking into the wife. There’s some good stuff. First…” he taps on the screen and brings up a side by side picture of Heather McCann; one from her earlier years (either high school or college, Tyler can’t say for sure) and a current photo, before she’d been taken.

“She’s from New Zealand. Which we already knew. Born in Christchurch. May 29th, 1979. Her mother was heavy into the activism scene; protesting shit like pollution in the oceans, nuclear arms, animal cruelty, women’s rights. So on and so forth. A couple arrests under her belt. Nothing serious. Creating a public nuisance, assault on a police officer, vandalism. Nothing too scandalous. The father however, had quite the extensive criminal record.”

“He’s dead?”

“Killed. Ten years ago. While on vacation on the Bahamas. It was a hit. No doubt about. One to the back of his head.”

Tyler sips his coffee. “Execution style.”

“Exactly. Now, I couldn’t figure out what the hell he could have been involved in that led to that. So I did some more digging. His name was Alphonse Buckman, and this criminal record of his, there is some pretty serious shit. Racketeering, four counts of assault with a deadly weapon, money laundry, trafficking…”

“Another Amir Asif.”

“New Zealand’s own. And there’s more. Much more. We’re talking uttering death threats, threatening a public official, conspiracy to commit murder, accessory to murder. It just goes on and fucking on.”

“How was he even out on the street? With a list like that? He should have been doing at least fifty years if you add all of that up.”

“Money, Tyler. Money. This isn’t just some normal guy. He was the head of very prominent crime family in New Zealand.”

He frowns. “Didn’t McCann say that he met his wife while trying to extract someone from a crime family down there?”

“He wasn’t just extracting someone from any crime family. He was extracting them from this crime family.”

“Jesus fuck,” Tyler runs his hands over his face, rakes a hand through his hair, holding it away from his forehead.

“It gets better. So much better. Or worse. I’m not sure which. Remember what McCann told you? About his wife being a shop keeper?”

Tyler nods.

“That’s bullshit. Her grandmother was the shop keeper. Grandmother on the mother’s side. Remember that part, okay? Heather wasn’t just some innocent caught up in all of this. Just some random off the street. She’s the daughter of an international criminal mastermind. We’re talking a guy that was even wanted by Interpol and still managed to get off. Heather was the extract.”

“Wait…wait…you lost me. What?”

“Heather was who McCann was hired to extract. He was hired by the father. Because the mother had taken off with Heather to get her away from him. He wasn’t there to get someone away from a bad guy. He was working for the bad guy. A bad guy with extensive ties, to, you guessed it, the IRA.”

“This is fucked,” Tyler concludes. “This is quite possibly the most fucked up thing I’ve heard in a long time. That I’ve been mixed up in.”

“It was his very first job. As a mercenary. He left the IRA to become a soldier of fortune. And they took that as a huge slight. Because of all that he knows about them. And because he’s no doubt had to go after some of their members. He’s a traitor to them. But…”

‘Nothing good every comes after ‘but’, Yaz. Nothing.”

“He hasn’t just pissed off the IRA. He’s pissed off everyone associated with the ex father in law. Because he took money from them to do jobs that he never followed through with. We’re talking big money, Tyler. Like millions of dollars. Huge cash. So he’s got the IRA after him and everyone that still has ties and loyalty to his father in law. They both want him.”

“So there’s a huge pissing content going on between the IRA and these other guys.”

“Exactly. This is messed up. And I have seen some messed up shit. One word. Dhaka.”

“Still doesn’t explain the weird feeling I get from the wife,” he gives the waitress a polite smile as she returns with their food and cutlery.

“This is where it gets really interesting,” Yaz says, as he digs into his food, then shoots the waitress a thumbs up from across the coffee house. He swipes left on the tablet, bringing up school pictures of the McMann children. “This is Emma and Nicholas McMann. Michael and Heather McMann’s two children. Born here in Belfast. Not that that means anything, really, but just bare with me here. So McMann came home on the twelveth and found his place tossed. Completely trashed. And his wife and the kids missing and a letter, claiming to be from the IRA, saying they were responsible and that they’d be in touch. But he never called the police. He never once reported that his kids or his wife, had been taken.”

“Because he knew that the cops would find out about his own illegal shit.”

“Precisely. He spends a few days trying to take them down. Stirring up some real shit here in Belfast with the IRA, who in turn, turns around and says they have no idea what he’s even talking about. They say it wasn’t them. That they had nothing to do with it and if they wanted him dead that badly, they would just do it. They wouldn’t do that to kids.”

“So they say. We’ve seen a lot of screwed up shit involving kids, Yaz.”

“I agree. Or normally I would. But I’m starting to think it isn’t the IRA. They’re a proud bunch. When they’re involved in something, they admit it. They adamantly refuse to take any responsibility for this. Which leads us back…”

“To the father in law,” Tyler concludes.

“Which in turn, leads us back to her,” he brings another picture of Heather McCann on the screen. “Guess who runs the books for dear old dead daddy’s people back home. Guess who is the only child of said dead mobster and the executor of his estate and his power of attorney.”

Tyler sighs. “I need something stronger than coffee for this.”

“She’s the ring leader. Supposedly. I can’t really prove that. Not yet. You know, some of this shit would be a lot easier to dig up it we had an actual experienced intel person. Someone with real hands on experience. That has done all of this before. And really awesomely, I might add.”

“Forget it, Yaz. Don’t even say it. There’s no way I’m agreeing to that and you know it.”

“Esme has tons of contacts,” he reasons. “All over the world. She’s dealt with this kind of thing. Organized crime. In New York City and Philadelphia. I’ve seen her file, Tyler. From the people in North America.”

“You ran a background check on my wife? Just now or…”

“Back when Nik was going to hire her. We had to check things out. Check references. Things like that. You haven’t seen her file but I have. And it’s not just impressive. It is super fucking impressive. The circles that she’s infiltrated, the people she’s got to trust her, the mercenaries that she’s helped get people out of some horrible shit. She doesn’t just know things that regular people know. She knows things that could get a lot of people killed. And if we had her here…”

“Yaz, I said forget it. I am not getting her involved. We have four kids at home. That need their mother.”

“They need their father too. But here you are.”

“I’m not taking their mother away from them. I’m not doing it. So drop it.”

“Tyler, both the IRA and this family know we’re here. They know our names. Our faces. They know we came here and they are pissed. I am not going to be able to get all the information out of them that we need. Esme could come in here and get everything we need and then leave just as fast as she got here. Look what she was able to do in Dhaka. How successful that part of it was. Now tell me why this is a bad idea.”

“Because she isn’t just some random intel person, Yaz. She’s my wife. The mother of my kids. That’s why. This is insane. Even thinking about dragging her into this. Wasn’t Dhaka enough? Wasn’t that enough bullshit for her to go through? You want me to just bring her into this?”

“It would work. You know it would. You’re just too scared to admit it. Bringing Esme in would save us a whole lot of time.”

“And possibly get her killed.”

“She could have been killed in Dhaka. But she wasn’t. Because you were there to protect her. Just like you would be here.”

“Jesus…” Tyler drags his hand down his face. “…I can’t believe I am listening to this.”

“But you’re considering it. Aren’t you.”

He reluctantly nods.

“It’s the best idea I have. And it’s the only one that will work. And you know that. That’s why you don’t want to admit it. Look, I know it probably scares the shit out of you. Her getting back into this, but we need her Tyler. I know it. You know it.”

“This is insane,” he drops his fork on his now empty plate with a clatter and leans back in booth, hands clasped behind his head.

“What’s the worst she can say? No?”

“How about ‘you’re fucking insane and I want a divorce’.”

“That won’t happen and you know it. Give it some thought. We don’t have a lot of time to play with here. McCann is going to start to wonder why we’re stalling, He’s already getting impatient. Give it a couple hours. Think it over.”

Tyler nods in agreement. “Back to the wife. Explain to me how she’s involved.”

“Like I said, I think she’s the one running the show for dear old dead dad. All signs point to her. I can’t prove it. At least not yet. I think she’s exacting revenge on her husband.”

“For what?”

“Apparently he’s got quite the wandering eye. And a wandering dick.”

“So set all this up…use her children as bait…because her husband can’t keep it in his pants? Seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think it’s just that. I think she knows he had something to do with her father’s death. And she’s pissed because he’s screwed over all kinds of other people by not doing the jobs he was hired to do. Just pocketing the money. Which in turn, puts targets on her and her kids’ back.”

“So she stages all of this to make it look like she’s not involved but uses her kids for leverage?”

“Like you said, we’ve seen screwed up things involving kids. And this wouldn’t be the worst. Unfortunately.”

“This changes everything. You know that, yeah?”

“You need to be the one to get the kids out, Tyler. They have to be your priority. You’re responsibility. They’re the only innocent ones in all of this. It has to be you.”

“And if I can only get one?”

“One is better than none.”

He gives a derisive snort, then waves the waitress over and orders another coffee.

“Let McCann go for the wife. Let them kill each other. Who gives a shit at this point. The bad wiping out the bad. But you have to get those kids. They have to be your extracts.”

He sighs heavily, then nods.

“Now call your wife,” Yaz slides Tyler’s cell phone towards him. “Tell her we need her help. Tell her what’s going on. Let her be the one to decide if she wants to get involved or not.”

“If she asks me for a divorce and I get kicked out of my house, I’m coming to sleep on your couch, mate,” he’s only half joking, then palms his cell phone and slips out of the booth.

“Good luck,” Yaz calls after him as he heads for the exit.

****

She answers on the third ring; sounding exhausted, yet still excited to hear from him.

“I thought you wouldn’t call until much later your time,” she says. “It’s only eight am there. It thought for sure you’d be busy. Tracking people down, kicking some ass. All that kind of stuff.”

“We’ve hit a bit of a roadblock,” Tyler admits, as he slips his sunglasses on and leans against the red brick of the coffee house. Seeking peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of the main street by tucking into the neighbouring alley. From here he can keep an eye on the road; observe those coming down the sidewalk from each direction, leaving different store fronts. The alley leads to a dead end, nothing but dumpsters and back exits. “And maybe I just wanted to call because I wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I miss you.”

“Maybe?” she challenges, and he grins.

“I miss you,” he admits. “A lot. A hell of a lot.”

“I miss you too. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he assures her. “Did I wake you up? What is it? Like eleven there?”

“I’m sitting outside. On the swing. It rained for the better part of the afternoon and it so beautiful out now. There’s a really nice breeze coming in off the mountains. I wish you were here. I miss this part of our night. Sitting out here together. How many times have we actually fallen asleep on this swing?”

“Too many to count,” he says, a smile of reminiscence curving his lips. “The kids were good?”

“Mille finally chilled out. She was much better after I told her to record that video for you. It calmed her right down. She cried a little. At bedtime. Because you weren’t there to tuck her in and read her stories. Maybe you can record yourself reading her one and send it to her. She’d love that. If you find time.”

“I’ll find all the time in the world for her, you know that. How’s the boys?”

“Hanging in there. TJ has his ups and down. Tanner is still being the calm and consoling one. And Declan is Declan. He’s such a little ham. He’s so funny. He’s quite the character already. But what a temper! I’ve never seen anyone pitch a fit like he can! And so strong! I wonder where he gets that from.”

“The being strong or the having a bad temper?”

“Both,” she laughs. “I’m glad you liked the videos. We had so much fun making them. And can you believe the baby has four words now? He’s so smart Tyler. Crazy smart.”

“Like his mom.”

“And he is so close to walking already. You said he would be the one that would walk the earliest. Because of his insanely strong legs. I hope you don’t miss it. I’d really want you to be here when it happens. You missed it with both Millie and the twins. I’d like you to get the chance to see it this time.”

He swallows down the lump of emotion that’s wedged in his throat. “I’d like to see it too. I hope I’m back in time.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks. “You don’t sound like yourself. There’s something in your voice. I don’t know what it is. But it’s something.”

“I need your help,” he just spits it out. No chill whatsoever. Just straight to the point. “Actually, we need your help. Yaz and I.”

“Okay…” he can hear the squeak of the swing as she stands up. “…with?”

“We’ve been made. Both of us. We were made before we even got off the plane.”

“Shit,” she mutters. “Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. I got a visitor in the middle of the night. From whoever is behind all of this. Telling me that I stuck my nose in business I don’t belong in and that I needed to watch my back. They know my name. Where I live. They have pictures. Of all of us.”

“Which is why Nik decided out of nowhere to stay here along with two of her guys. Tyler…”

“I asked her not to tell you. I didn’t want to get you all worked up if it just turned out to be idle threats. They’re just trying to scare me. So I’ll abandon things here.”

“But you’re not. Abandoning things.”

“I’ve got a job to do.”

“The job is obviously fucked. Tyler, you need to come home. Right now. Get on the next plane and get home. Please.”

“I can’t. I need to get those kids. I don’t give a shit about the wife. But I can’t leave those kids. And I know you understand that. Would you want someone leaving our kids?”

“Of course not.. But…”

“Esme, we need your help. I need your help. I can’t get them without you.”

“Tyler, I’m not a mercenary. I wouldn’t know the first thing about extracting someone. And that’s not something I can just learn on the fly.”

“I don’t need help with that. I can do all that stuff. I need your help with intel.”

“You have Yaz there,” she points out.

“Yaz doesn’t know the things you do. He hasn’t done the things you have. I know you’ve been in this before. I know about New York. And Philly.”

She sighs. “How?”

“Yaz told me. He saw it in your file. When Nik did background on you before she gave you the job. I don’t care that you kept that from me. There’s things I’ve done on the job that you don’t know about either. This isn’t about keeping secrets or protecting each other and keeping info away from one another. This is about me needing your help to rescue those kids.”

“I have to admit, there is a perverse satisfaction in hearing you admit you actually need my help something,” she chides, and he can’t help but grin.

“Babe, I wouldn’t call you about this if I had anyone else,” he continues. “You’re the best at this. I know it. You know it. You’ve helped bring down better and bigger. I won’t go too much into it right now. It’s better if I tell you everything in person.”

“Whoa…whoa…in person? Tyler, I have four kids here. They’re already without their father. Now you want me to leave them without their mother too?”

“Look, it’s not what I want. I know it’s not what you want. And the thought of taking you away from them kills me as much as it kills you. But I need you. McCann’s kids need you.”

“Tyler…” another heavy sigh.

“Esme…please…I really need you to do this.”

“Who do I get to watch the kids? I can’t just pull a babysitter out of my ass.”

“Ask Ovi if Chloe would do it.”

“She works.”

“She owns her own business and has her own employees. I’m sure she can trust them to run shit while she takes time off. Or call your mom.”

“Oh right,” she laughs. “That will go over well.”

“I’ll call her then.”

“That would just be even worse! What would you say? ‘I need you to watch your grandkids so your daughter can come to Ireland and help me kick some ass’?”

“Something like that. Babe, this is serious. These people know who we are. We aren’t going to get anything out of them.”

“And you think I’ll be able to?” she inquires.

“I know you’ll be able to,” Tyler confidently replies.

“You are something else,” she mumbles, and then falls into a long, almost painful silence.

“Esme?”

“I’m here. I’m cursing you out, but I’m here. Are your ears ringing? Because they should be. Jesus, Tyler. You honestly can not be serious about this.”

“I am. Dead serious. You’re the best at this type of thing. And we need the best. Especially with the kind of people we’re going against.”

“Which you’ll tell me all about when I get there,” she concludes. “I need a few hours. At least. I would need to call my mom and have Ovi get a hold of Chloe. This isn’t going to be an instant thing. I have to book a flight and…”

“Ask Nik. She’ll arrange one for you. She’s got great connections.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ve got to and get shit together. I’ll call you. As soon as everything is ironed out and I know when I’ll be there. This is insane, Tyler. You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But you love me.”

“Only one days that end in Y. I’ll call you. Soon.”

“I love you,” he tells her. “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I love you too. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he says.

“Yes,” he can hear the smile in her voice. “You will.”

#tyler rake #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction fan fiction #extraction fan fic

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holidaywishes · 5 years

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It Had To Be You XXIV

Chapter Twenty Four: I Like Me Better

Summary: You head back to Calgary to pack up your life so you can start your life in Dallas

Author’s Note: Alright, so my schedule gets pretty hectic these next couple weeks so if nothing is posted until February, I apologize. I was going to write the Casino Night into the end of this one but figured I’d make that as the next chapter. So, I hope you enjoy this one!

Warning: angst?

Song Credit: make daddy proud -- blackbear, I Like Me Better -- Lauv

masterlist

Leaving Tyler was harder than you thought it would be, even if it was just for one day. Saying goodbye at the airport was dramatic but ultimately amusing to you when he kept pulling you back every time you moved to go through security.

“I have to go…” you said with your arms still encircling Tyler’s neck and his wrapped around your waist

“You don’t have to…” he replied, leaning his forehead against yours

“It’s one day baby, you won’t even know I’m gone” you brought his lips down to yours for a gentle kiss

“I love you”

“I love you too”

When he finally let you go, you realized how little time you two had spent apart during the holidays -- the air just felt different without him around. Five hours later, you landed at the Airport and started toward the pick up area to meet Chris and Lucy when you heard a familiar laugh to your left. You looked over and saw Kayla and Marcus giggling in line for a flight to what looked like Toronto and, not wanting to get into any kind of drama, you tried to sneak by them.

“Oh my god, (Y/N)?” you heard Marcus yell out and your skin crawled as you slowly turned around to acknowledge them.

“It is you!” Kayla added, “we were wondering if we’d ever hear from you. We never got your reply!”

“Reply? To what? What are you talking about Kayla?” you asked, confusion clearly marking your face

“We sent you our save-the-date!” she squealed turning to Marcus and your mouth dropped open, “we thought we’d just let the past be the past and try to move on. This was our way to start new after all this time…” You were still standing there speechless, mouth agape, trying to understand what was being said to you. You had heard that Marcus’ stint in jail was cut short due to good behaviour and he was only there for a few months which honestly didn’t shock you; you tried your best to not have anything to do with him and what happened -- which meant you also had no idea what was going on with Kayla.

The last thing you expected was to hear that they were getting married.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Kayla’s fingers and you told her you haven’t been in Calgary very much

“I have to go.. Chris is waiting for me…” you stuttered

“So what’s the answer then?” Marcus called as you walked away. Every part of you was telling you to just walk away. You had been doing so well with everything that this would’ve just been a set back you didn’t need so you just wanted to keep moving but when Marcus spoke again, your blood boiled and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Well obviously she hasn’t changed…”

“You know what? Fuck you,” you whisper-yelled at him, “no I’m not going to your stupid wedding. The fact that you’re getting married is a fucking travesty! You don’t deserve any kind of happiness you spineless, pathetic piece of shit! This girl, here, beside you, she deserves so much more than you but you’ve got her so god damn brainwashed that she doesn’t even know left from right anymore. You broke her spirit when you broke mine. I’ve spent so much of my time trying not to think about what you did to me and I managed to get away from it for a while because of the people around me but I forgot that I was forced to leave Kayla behind and it breaks my heart every time thinking about what she’s going through with you. You honestly think you’re doing me a favour by inviting me to this sham of a wedding? That you’re burying the hatchet? That’s fucking bullshit and you know it! This is just another way for you to get what you want when you don’t deserve it because you’re a cry baby who can’t fucking take responsibility for any of his fucking actions. So, congrats. Congrats, K. Congrats on your engagement. Congrats on ditching the people who truly cared about you to follow around a fucking rapist who can’t be bothered to love you because he doesn’t know what love is. I wish you two the best in whatever life you choose. Lose my fucking address and stop trying to prove that he’s a decent person. Because he’s not. Have a nice fucking flight…” Just then, Airport security came to drag you away and you slowly walked out with them but not before seeing the tears fall from Kayla’s eye. When security finally got you outside, you were met by concerned stares from Chris and Lucy as you covered your face with your hands.

“What happened?!” Chris ran to you

“Did you know they were getting married?” was your only response, hoping they’d know exactly who you were talking about

“James called us,” Lucy answered, “told us an invitation came in the mail. He just about destroyed his apartment. We figured there was no point in telling you if we didn’t have to you know?” You nodded and walked over to the car, slumping into the backseat as Chris walked into the driver’s seat; you were more determined than ever to make this a short trip and get back to Tyler. Once you got to Lucy’s house, you ran to your room to start getting everything sorted, desperately trying not to think about what happened at the Airport.

“(Y/N).. (Y/N) do you want to talk about what happened?” Lucy asks as you motor around your room but you just ignore her to continue packing up your stuff, “(Y/N)!! You need to talk about this…”

“No.. no, I don’t think I do. It’s fine, I’m fine. Talking about it isn’t going to change anything,” you sighed, “they’re getting married. He’s managed to completely brainwash her against me and I just need to move on. Literally…”

“Talking helps though…” she tried again but you dropped your head to the side, “I’m not saying you have to go into what happened but just talk about how seeing them made you feel, how hearing that they were getting married made you feel…”

“It sucked Lucy!” you yelled, “I yelled, I swore, I got led out of the fucking Airport by security! It wasn’t a good time…”

“That was the first time you’ve seen either of them right?” she asked and you nodded, “how was that?”

“I don’t know, Luce, it was weird and upsetting. I really don’t know what else to say,” you shook your head trying to regain your focus, “it felt like I was gut punched. But the look on Kayla’s face…”

“What do you mean?”

“I swear she was crying. She looked miserable. But also like, happy? It was a confusing look. But it was like she couldn’t admit that anything was wrong. What if he’s hurting her? That would be horrible but what the hell can I do?”

“Maybe she needs help… maybe we could call someone?”

“We can’t call anyone… If something is actually happening, calling someone will only make it worse. Have you never seen Enough?” you said and Lucy let out a small laugh, “look, it sucks. I loved Kayla and I wish that she would’ve seen him for who he is but I think we just have to let it figure itself out…” She stopped talking about it after that, turning instead to folding your clothes and putting them into your suitcase. The two of you joked around for a while about how much you actually needed to bring

“You’re going for four months. That’s less than you went away to Scotland for and I’m pretty sure you packed less for that trip…”

“But that was for school, this is for work…” you argued, “what if I don’t have enough like business outfits? What if nothing I decide to bring is appropriate? I need options!” You finished packing, weighed your luggage and made sure you wouldn’t have to pay extra fees and then you went out to eat with Chris and Karen; joking, reminiscing and wishing you all the best at your new job. When Chris dropped you and Lucy off at her place, he jumped out of the car to pull you aside

“Wait!” he shouted after you as soon as you got to the apartment building door, “(Y/N), I need to talk to you…” To say you were nervous was an understatement but you were sure that it wouldn’t be too bad

“What’s up?” you asked, turning around to see him running up to you

“Be careful,” he replied and you furrowed your brow, “moving in with Tyler is a big step. It’s very sudden and I don’t want you to get hurt. If something feels wrong, leave. Find somewhere on your own. I’d rather you be happy then be… comfortable..” What did that even mean?

“I’ll be fine, Chris, thank you for your concern but I’ll be okay”

“I don’t want your relationship with Tyler to turn out like your relationship with James…” his words came out quickly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say them out loud, “so please just be careful…” You leaned in to give him a hug; he was always looking out for you and you knew it would be hard for him to make sure you were okay from 3,000 kilometres away.

“Tyler isn’t James,” you said, pulling back to look him in the eyes, “and I’m not who I was with James either. I love you Chris. Thank you for looking out for me.” You squeezed his arms as you said goodnight and waved quickly to Karen before you forgot and watched as Chris walked back to the car. A couple hours later, the four of you were headed back to the Airport to send you off while making quips that you should keep your head down as you had a quick bite to eat at the Timmie’s downstairs.

“We don’t want to get a call that you’ve been arrested before you even get on the plane” Karen joked, getting a round of laughs from Lucy and Chris and you just rolled your eyes, laughing slightly. Before too long, it was time for you to head through security and you were on your way back to Tyler.

“I’ll see you soon, just got on the plane”

“Can’t wait! How is everyone?”

“They’re good! Sad to see me leave again but they’re happy for me…”

“Uh oh. What’s with the dots?”

“The dots?”

“Yeah these …”

“Oh. I just umm, I saw Kayla and Marcus”

“Shit”

“They’re engaged. They’re getting married. I blew up at them. Then got dragged out of the Airport by security”

“Are you okay babe?”

“I’m fine. It’s over, we won’t talk about it anymore. They’re out of my life now. They have to be…”

“It’s okay to miss her you know. Even if she’s with him…”

“I know.. I love you. Gotta turn my phone off for a bit.”

“Love you too. See you soon!”

Five hours later, the plane touched down in Dallas and you rushed to meet your luggage so you could find Tyler and head back to your place to settle in. As soon as you got your luggage, you shlept outside searching for Tyler in the crowd of black cars and buzzing bodies; he spotted you first and called out to you. You squeaked and ran into his arms

“HI!! I missed you!” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, kissing all over his face, causing a smile to break onto his face

“I missed you too,” he laughed in between kisses, guiding you over to his car to set you in the passenger seat, “so did the boys…”

“Hmmm, they in the back?” you asked while staring up at him

“Not today,” he replied, pecking your lips quickly before heading to the other door, “I have to go straight to practice and I’m bringing you with me. I figured if I brought them too, you’d stay out here…” You laughed when you saw the puppy dog eyes he was giving you so you turned to his phone to put on his playlist that Mike made last year, bopping your head along

“...Started spending all of his money. Tell me how'd you get so codependent, girl. All of his money…” You felt his eyes on you and when you finally turned to look at him he had a giant grin on his face

“What?” you asked

“Nothing.. I just love you that’s all” he said, grabbing your hand to kiss it while he drove and you felt your face turn red

“I love you too.” The songs continued and you let most of them play, only skipping a couple when they felt too similar, before eventually changing to one of his Daily Mix playlists. The rest of the drive was so peaceful, Tyler’s hand resting on the gear shift while you traced patterns on his skin to the melodies coming from the stereo.

“To be young and in love in New York City. To not know who I am but still know that I’m good long as you’re here with me. To be drunk and in love in New York City. Midnight into morning coffee…” You started singing along, Tyler humming along to the melody occasionally squeezing your hand

“I knew from the first time. I'd stay for a long time 'cause I like me better when. I like me better when I'm with you…” You wanted to tell yourself not to say it but you felt the cliché, cheesy words form in your mouth before your brain could stop them

“You know, I like me better when I’m with you…” you smiled and winced as you waited for Tyler’s response. When he finally let out a laugh, you blushed and shook your head in your hands

“I like me better when I’m with you too, babe” he said as he squeezed your knee

“Oh it sounds just as cheesy coming from you” you laughed and he smiled. When you got to the arena, he ran to open the door for you and practically carried you inside. You talked with some of the guys before they put on their equipment to start practice and you walked toward the seats to wait for the guys to hit the ice when you felt Tyler wrap his arms around your waist

“You gonna be okay?” he said with his head resting on your shoulder

“I’ve been to a practice before,” you turned to face his and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be fine.” He sent you off with a final kiss and ran away like a child to the dressing room.

After the team won on Friday, Tyler took you out for dinner to celebrate before the Stars left for Winnipeg. It was a nice, quiet night that ended with the dogs interrupting every attempt the two of you made to be alone together. The next week was busy for you. Your first day at work was long and way busier than you thought it would be; it was the one time you were actually glad Tyler was gone. The two of you talked, of course, while he was away but with your busiest days happening on his game days, the conversations were short and distracted. By the time your week was over, the team had lost two in a row and they weren’t in the best mood, which really didn’t bother you; you were dying to collapse on the couch and watch Netflix.

“You’re coming to the Casino thing right?” Tyler asked as you curled into him on the couch, “the fundraiser…”

“Of course babe,” you smiled, leaning up to ask for a kiss which he happily obliged, “but I can’t say that I’ll have any clue what I’m doing. It’ll be my first ‘gala’ thing”

“That’s what you have me for,” he joked and pulled you in closer, “I’ll guide you through the night. You’ll do great.”

“I believe you’ll keep me from saying or doing anything dumb” he kissed your forehead, agreeing with you before making some joke about leaving it up to him to do something stupid. You sunk into the couch as Marshall tucked himself into the crook of your knee and Tyler flipped through Netflix trying to find something better to watch than repeats of Friends.

“How about we watch a Bring It On marathon?” you asked, expecting him to scoff but instead he agreed and put on the 2000’s cheerleading movie. Four movies later and you were passed out on the couch with Tyler tucking you in. Even though you were completely passed out, you still felt him grab a blanket to tuck you in as his lips grazed your forehead.

Your boyfriend was too good to be true and you loved him for it.

#Tyler Seguin #Tyler Seguin Imagine #It Had To Be You #It Had To Be You series #NHL #NHL imagine

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orbemnews · 3 years

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The Pan Am flight attendant and the CIA man who fell in love on an airplane (CNN) — In September 1970 Jocelyne Nowaski was working as chief flight attendant on a Pan American World Airways flight from Paris to New York when her life changed forever. In her two years at Pan Am the 23-year-old had made friends across the globe, served celebrities including Beatle Ringo Starr and featured with her coworkers in the pages of Paris Match magazine. Pan Am layovers were spent exploring Morocco, on safaris in Nairobi, galloping on horseback on the beaches of Barbados, swimming in Liberia, and browsing the jewelry stalls of Beirut. As she recalls it, her career happened almost by accident. Jocelyne had majored in biology at New York City’s College of Mount St. Vincent, intending to become a doctor. But right before graduation, a friend knocked on her dorm room and told her the luxury airline was interviewing for flight crew at its famous Manhattan skyscraper. Her friend insisted they should both try out, for a laugh. “Why not?” agreed Jocelyne. She found herself recalling the glossy commercials: “Your Pan Am stewardess knows her way around the world like you know your way around the block.” To become a Pan Am flight attendant, candidates needed a college degree, and to speak a second language. Jocelyne’s mother was French-Canadian, so she ticked both boxes. She was hired — her friend wasn’t — and within weeks of graduating, followed by rigorous training, Jocelyne was working her first trip aboard a Boeing 727 to Nassau, in the Bahamas. Jocelyne never became a doctor and never looked back. “It was the best job,” she tells CNN Travel today. “It wasn’t a job; it was a labor of love.” In September 1970, love was the last thing on Jocelyne’s mind. She’d ended a relationship with a pilot six months previously, and she was having a blast exploring the world with her girlfriends. Her focus was on her career. In the interim, fire-arm qualified individuals from organizations like the CIA and FBI were seconded and assigned onto flights. Traveling back to JFK from Paris in mid-September, Jocelyne recalls she and her crew were told that two security officers would be joining them: one in economy and one in first class. Jocelyne in her uniform, including her gold wings. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Jocelyne was heading up the economy cabin as purser, and they were readying for takeoff. All the passengers had boarded the Boeing 707, a narrow-body airliner used by Pan Am from 1958. But the security officers were late, much to Jocelyne’s annoyance. She rolled her eyes even harder when she learned it was because they’d been buying Parisian scarves to impress girls back home. Finally arriving on board, the economy cabin security officer introduced himself. His name was Tyler Harding, smartly dressed in a suit and tie, a tan overcoat over one arm. Right away, Jocelyne recalls, she was struck by his charm and good looks, but she wasn’t interested in a relationship and didn’t think he was seriously interested in her. “I was working with some Swedish girls and the Swedish girls were absolutely stunning,” she laughs. “I wouldn’t even think of competing against them.” Tyler took his seat on the second to back row and the aircraft took off, bidding the Paris lights goodbye and setting off across the Atlantic Ocean. Air marshals are supposed to blend in, so Jocelyne served Tyler as she would any other passenger, but unlike every other passenger he tried to strike up a conversation every time she came over. “He was very flirty,” Jocelyne recalls. “I was not, because I thought: ‘Oh, he’s just doing this because he wants to talk to my colleagues.'” This suspicion — plus the scarves — made her wary. She kept her tone terse, even teasing him about his drink choice. “He was very pleasant, in spite of my being snarky,” she says. As the aircraft started cruising over the ocean, Jocelyne and her coworkers began their dinner service. Tyler continued to engage her in conversation whenever she walked by. Jocelyne and her Pan Am coworkers enjoyed their layovers in destinations across the world. Here they are on a safari in Nairobi. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding After she’d served the food, Jocelyne did her usual overview of the cabin. While walking down the aisles she glanced at Tyler. He wasn’t looking at her at that moment. But she felt herself stop in her tracks, struck suddenly with a thought: “I wonder what it’ll be like to be married to him?” She recalls quickly shaking herself out of it. “What are you thinking? You don’t even know this man.” But Jocelyne couldn’t explain it, even to herself. In that moment she’d been struck by this strange certainty that a future with Tyler was not only likely, but inevitable. Sometime later, she was sitting up top of the plane on the jump seat, when Tyler sat down next to her. At which point he asked her out. “I don’t date passengers,” she said. “And you’re probably married anyway.” Tyler pointed out he wasn’t exactly a passenger, and when Jocelyne still looked unimpressed, he fished out his passport, which back then listed dependents — or in his case, absence of them. He was 29, the black print said, and a resident of Alexandria, Virginia. Jocelyne was relieved, but still wary about dating someone she barely knew. Apparently sensing this, Tyler relented and returned to his seat. As the airplane approached Long Island, edging closer to New York City, it was time for Jocelyne to do the last drinks service, carrying a teapot in one hand and a coffee pot in the other. She got to Tyler, who requested coffee. “And as I’m pouring the coffee in his cup, he looked up at me with those amazing blue eyes,” recalls Jocelyne. “Naturally, I poured the coffee into his cup. Unfortunately, at the same time I poured tea into his lap.” Mortified, Jocelyne grabbed cloth napkins from the back of the plane and handed them to him. Tyler told her not to worry, but was laughing. “Now you have to go out with me,” he said. Blushing, Jocelyne dodged the question and went to confide in her friend Mala, who was the purser in first class. “As I’m pouring the coffee in his cup, he looked up at me with those amazing blue eyes. Naturally, I poured the coffee into his cup. Unfortunately, at the same time I poured tea into his lap” Jocelyne Harding Mala suggested they invite both the flight’s security officers to a crew party she was planning at her Queens apartment after they landed. Jocelyne agreed and returned to economy to tell Tyler and hurriedly pass on the address before making preparations for final descent. After landing, she couldn’t spot him amid the crowd, and felt disappointed as she traveled from JFK to Mala’s home. He was nowhere to be seen as the party got into full swing. Then the doorbell rang. It was Tyler, with his fellow security officer in tow. “It took my breath away. It really did,” says Jocelyne. Right away, the pair went to the kitchen and started chatting over cocktails. “I was leaning against Mala’s range with my back to the ring. He was standing in front of me and we must have talked for about three hours.” The pair discussed their childhoods — hers in New York and his in California — their families, dreams, travels, careers. The only thing off the table was the true nature of his job — Tyler couldn’t reveal he worked for the CIA. She found that out later. Tyler and Jocelyne ignored the hubbub of the party around them, chatting incessantly. “At the end of the evening, he looked at me, and he said: ‘Will you marry me?'” Her answer, she says, slipped out instinctively, in a moment of clarity and assurance. “I said, ‘Yes.'” Globe spanning romance Jocelyne and Tyler in December 1970, a few months after they met. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding After the party, Tyler and his colleague gave Jocelyne a ride back to her parents’ home in New York, where she couldn’t help but blurt out her fateful news. “I just met the man I’m going to marry,” she told her mother, who laughed. “Oh, you’re crazy. It doesn’t work that way,” she said. But the very next day Tyler called round to see Jocelyne and meet her parents, hitting it off with them too. Neither Tyler or Jocelyne had much time in New York City before they were heading on their next work trip — he to Tehran and she to Rome. “I can’t actually marry you yet,” Jocelyne told him, before he departed. “That would be ridiculous.” Tyler just smiled and left his 1968 Mustang parked in her parents’ driveway. In Rome, Jocelyne had plans lined up with a man she’d been casually dating during her Italian layovers. “He had a whole weekend plan to take me in his sports car up the Amalfi Coast,” she recalls. Upon landing in Italy, she called him up and, despite his protestations, told him she wouldn’t be able to come after all. Jocelyne in Rome, 1970. This photo was taken on the first leg of her trip, right before she met Tyler. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Instead, she spent the weekend in Rome with Mala and her other Pan Am colleagues, walking around the city, throwing coins in the Trevi Fountain, and enjoying pasta dinners. When Jocelyne got back to New York, Tyler contacted her right away. Ostensibly, it was under the excuse he needed to collect his car, but they both knew that wasn’t the real reason. The two started dating, spending all their time together when they weren’t traveling for work. That October, just a few weeks after they met, Tyler asked Jocelyne to marry him — again. This time, she said yes with certainty. They told their parents on Thanksgiving, and on Christmas Eve 1970, Tyler met her at JFK with an engagement ring. Jocelyne with her friend Mala (left) who was on board the airplane when Tyler and Jocelyne met. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding Jocelyne and Tyler got married March 1971, at the chapel of the College of Mount St. Vincent. For their honeymoon they flew to Fiji, taking advantage of Jocelyne’s Pan Am discount to travel first class and spend eight days relaxing. Back in the US, she moved to Alexandria, Virginia, where Tyler was based, but still flew out of New York. “We both travelled a lot,” says Jocelyne. “He went on assignment often for the CIA, and that first Christmas, I remember he was gone for three months on an assignment to Laos, and that was tough.” When she could, Jocelyne tried to work round-the-world flights out of New York, so she’d be gone for weeks at a time too, traveling from New York to Tokyo and back. Jocelyne and Tyler on their wedding day on March 28, 1971. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding And towards the end of Tyler’s stint in Laos, she decided to surprise him with an unscheduled visit. “I thought, ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ because there was a war going on there then. But I did, and I met him, and we came home together after his assignment. And from then on, it’s just been a whirlwind.” In March 2021, Jocelyne, now 74, and Tyler, 80, will have been married for five decades. “I can’t believe it’s 50 years already,” she says. “I can’t believe it.” The glamor of Pan Am Jocelyne fondly recalls working on the first Boeing 747 flight between Paris and New York. Here, a Boeing 747 is seen just after landing at London’s Heathrow airport, on January 22, 1970. AFP via Getty Images Jocelyne continued flying with Pan Am for a year after her marriage. Regulations had just recently changed to allow married women to continue working as flight crew. But she left the company in 1972, when Tyler’s job transferred to Thailand. Jocelyne said farewell to her wings with great sadness, but soon embraced the new adventure of a life in Southeast Asia, followed by a stint in Hawaii. The couple had their first child, a daughter, while living in Honolulu. Tyler and Jocelyne then settled back in Virginia for a while, having a second daughter there, but before long they were living in Frankfurt, Germany. “The kids loved it because we took them everywhere on weekends. We went to France, we went to all different parts of Germany, Switzerland,” recalls Jocelyne. In the late 1970s, the couple bought some farmland in Maryland from the uncle of one of Jocelyne’s old Pan Am pals and built the home in which they live today. Jocelyne’s still in touch with many of her friends from that time, including Mala. She’s part of World Wings International, the organization of retired Pan Am Flight attendants. “We still entertain like no one entertains,” she laughs. Pan Am’s glamorous reputation has lingered on, long after its last flight. That legacy is deserved, says Jocelyne. “Everything was about making the customer happy and elegance on the plane,” she recalls. “We served the finest wines, the finest of everything. Paris Maxim’s [the famed French restaurant] did our catering. It was elegant, it was special, people dressed up.” Jocelyne memorably worked the inaugural 747 flight between New York and Paris, a press flight where passengers sipped Moët Chandon Champagne and ate caviar from Tehran. That’s when she was featured in Paris Match magazine. “We were interviewed when we got off the plane. It was terribly exciting, it really was. The 747 was amazing. I did love that plane, but I missed the ambiance of the 707.” She recalls her team were given special buttons promoting the 747, which they wore on their lapels. Uniforms were blue or tan, with Pan Am wings made of gold. Alongside their two daughters Jocelyne and Tyler now have five grandchildren. Everybody in the family loves travel, says Jocelyne, with one of their daughters spending two decades living in France, Istanbul and Warsaw, and the other taking a year out to backpack the world after graduation. Jocelyne and Tyler pictured in 2014. Courtesy Jocelyne Harding The pandemic has grounded the family in the US for now, but despite their decades of travel, Jocelyne and Tyler still have spots left on their must-visit list. For Jocelyne, it’s Bhutan. For Tyler, it’s Australia, where the couple have family. Tyler now has some memory issues, but he still fondly recalls that momentous 1970 flight from Paris to New York. “I saw this cute girl and she was kind of snotty to me,” he says. “But we talked after we got off and after that, we never stopped.” “It’s been an amazing journey I wouldn’t trade for anything,” says Jocelyne. She pauses and laughs. “Oh, and I wound up with all those scarves he bought.” Source link Orbem News #Airplane #attendant #CIA #fell #flight #Love #Man #Pan

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how2to18 · 6 years

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WILLA DRAKE, the protagonist of Pulitzer Prize–winning author Anne Tyler’s new novel Clock Dance, is a 61-year-old widow who’s suffering the fate of many women her age: she’s still young enough to enjoy new adventures or a second career, but to the outside world she’s just a woman of a certain age with a “flowered chiffon scarf knotted perkily at her throat.” Despite her happiness and material comfort — and a second marriage — Willa has the growing sense that her life is not enough.

And then the phone rings.

It’s the neighbor of her son Sean’s ex-girlfriend Denise, who, Willa is told, has taken a stray bullet in the leg. Willa’s phone number was still on Denise’s emergency contacts list, and Denise needs someone to take care of her nine-year-old daughter, Cheryl, and dog, Airplane. Could Willa, as the mother-in-law, get on a plane right away to help out?

Willa doesn’t correct the neighbor or say she’s the wrong person to call. Instead, she evaluates her life. Ever since she and her second husband, Peter, moved to a golfing community near Phoenix, she’s been restless and unfulfilled. She had to leave her job teaching ESL, which she loved. Peter spends hours each day on the golf course. Her parents are gone, she’s not close to her prickly younger sister, and she’s only in sporadic contact with her faraway sons — products of the marriage to her first husband, who died in a car accident. She doesn’t expect that either of her children will settle down soon, which is a shame because she wants grandchildren more than she admits.

With this in mind, Willa impulsively books a flight to Baltimore and tries to sell the idea to her husband. Peter is a sardonic, fussy, intellectual, semi-retired attorney, and he sees through her explanation that this sudden trip is to help a family in need. They both know the reason is more selfish.

“Oh Peter,” she tells him, “can’t you see my side of this? I haven’t felt useful in … forever!” Peter understands exactly and decides to go with her. He means it as a kindness, but already the reader can see Willa’s wings being clipped. Isn’t this supposed to be her adventure?

Willa and Peter arrive to pick up Cheryl, Denise’s daughter, at a neighbor’s house. She’s in the company of Airplane, her best friend, and the four of them walk to Denise’s rundown house. When Willa expresses concern that Airplane is trotting alongside them without a leash, Cheryl shoots back that he doesn’t need one. Her mother told her that Airplane must have previously belonged to “one of those guys that takes it for granted dogs will do what he tells them to, and so they do.” Tyler, who lives in Baltimore, has an excellent ear for everyday dialogue.

Willa can only wonder at this odd family and the grandchild she has unexpectedly been loaned. Age has mellowed her, and she rolls with the quirks of Cheryl’s home and neighborhood, its rituals and characters. Later that night, she walks Airplane on her own, leashless. It’s the first way she will insert herself into the family’s routine as a step — she subconsciously hopes — toward becoming indispensable.

The next day Willa and Peter take Cheryl to visit Denise in the hospital. While embarrassed by the mix-up — of course she hadn’t intended for her ex-boyfriend’s mother to swoop in and care for her child — Denise mainly seems relieved for the help. In fact, she is curiously lackadaisical about the whole situation: she remains cheerful despite the stray bullet, and she’s unconcerned about the strangers in her house or who watches her kid. She reveals to Willa how Sean broke up with her, and Willa is horrified.

Meanwhile, Peter is bored by the first night. He alternates between watching CNN, pacing the house for a decent wi-fi signal, and complaining. “She hadn’t asked him to come,” Willa thinks but doesn’t say, biting her tongue as usual. This is not Peter’s mission anyway. He has his place in the world — a social life through golf and the law firm he keeps a hand in. It’s Willa who is searching for meaning.

As days go by, Willa feels a kinship with Cheryl, who reveals herself to be independent and preternaturally wise, a “tidy child, with staid, old-ladyish habits.” She’s the only sense of order in the whirlwind of Denise’s home. Willa can relate: “[She] had felt that way during her own childhood, she’d felt like a watchful, wary adult housed in a little girl’s body.”

Then Willa meets the neighbors, who are as colorful and varied as a mosaic and who lift her up in ways that a golf community never will: Mrs. Minton, the old lady who has been on the block forever; Ben, the doctor whose office is tacked onto the back of his house; and Erlandson, an orphaned 15-year-old boy who lives with his older step-brother, the suave Sergio.

When Denise comes home from the hospital, Peter wastes no time making plane reservations. He’s had enough, but, of course, he’s missing the point: Willa doesn’t want to go yet. She’s onto something in Baltimore — something about the neighborhood and sense of community beyond just granddaughter-stand-in Cheryl — and she wants to explore it. It’s not merely that she feels useful. She feels part of something.

She sends Peter home without her, a tiny rebellion.

What do you live for? That’s the question around which the book circles. When Willa’s first husband died, her father told her that he got through the days after her mother died by breaking them up into separate moments: drinking coffee, working in the woodshop, watching a baseball game on TV. Willa tried it, but it didn’t work for her.

One day, she’s gathered with the neighbors — old Mrs. Minton, Ben the doctor — and the question of what to live for comes up. Everyone weighs in, but no one has an answer that rings true for Willa. “Sometimes,” says Mrs. Minton,

it feels so repetitive. You know? Like when I’m getting dressed, I’ll think, these same old, same old colors, I wish I had some new ones […] It seems like I’ve used everything up.

Ben finds comfort in being part of something bigger than himself. “I widen out my angle of vision till I’m only a speck on the globe,” he says.

Willa keeps searching by doing: she teaches Denise how to walk in a cast, cooks every meal, watches kids’ shows with Cheryl. But eventually she realizes her time in Baltimore must end. Denise is getting better and better, and soon they won’t need her anymore: “[Willa] began to look at everyone with an eye to losing them […] Cheryl’s dear, soft, pudgy cheeks, the elegant whorls of fuzz on Airplane’s nose — she dwelt on them, committing them to memory.”

Ultimately, Willa’s hand is forced when her usefulness begins to feel, to Denise, like interference.

Clock Dance rests on an easy fish-out-of-water plot and a contrived narrative trope — Willa wants grandchildren and is magically placed in a situation where she is caring for a substitute — but the story turns into something bigger and unexpected. Willa’s time in Baltimore throws into high relief how her own family — her mother and sister, her sons and husbands — has disappointed her the most. With Cheryl, Denise, and their neighbors, her life expands; she finds salvation in strangers.

Willa’s need to be useful forces a reckoning, and by the book’s end it seems as if her powers have been ratcheted up a notch. She may not yet know life’s meaning, but she’s committed to continuing the search one act, one moment at a time.

Sheila McClear is a freelance writer and author based in New York City.

The post At a Certain Age and Searching for Meaning: Anne Tyler’s “Clock Dance” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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backtomylakearearootsstory · 6 years

Text

S1E11

It’s Tuesday evening and Clarissa has just completed a new podcast on colorism. She had just finished dinner and washed the dishes and had been absent from her site for about two weeks.

Good evening, wow, it’s been a little while and I know this message sounds a bit cliché to some but I’m going to say my piece anyway. I want to speak to the black community. Now, other listeners feel free to listen, but this is a message that the black community needs to hear. My podcast messages are typically aimed towards women and girls of color but I sporadically do speak on collective issues, hence my following. I recently went back to my mother’s childhood home to reconnect with family that I had not seen in about 8 years. See my mother is from Louisiana and like many other blacks, she found her way to Los Angeles during the great migration. My trip was there, because of a relative that passed away. My mom sparingly visited Louisiana growing up, but she would sent me and my older sister to visit down there once we were teenagers. For some reason, she insisted on us going down there for the funeral. I have to say that colorism……is a real bitch. Being in Louisiana, it was nice to see so many shades of black. We go from the darkest of the dark to the lightest of the light. My mom is a very fair skinned creole woman and during her time out here, she could have easily passed for white by some, though she never did, she never tried to hide who she was despite the climate she grew up in when she left. I have to say, shame on you black men, particularly those of a darker complexion who turn their nose up at dark-skinned women. I also have to call out women who assume that every man who does date someone who is light is “cooning” or “self-hating” or that he hates his mother. Now, there are many black men struggling with self-hatred, I’ll give you that, but you cannot assume that that’s the case with every relationship. There are many women who happen to be high yellow, who seek dark men. My sister is one of them. She’s relatively bright, but her husband happens to be dark. If you do not know the history of the relationship, please don’t make assumptions. Anyway, back to black men though. If your date is fair skinned, just check your motive. Don’t date light simply to get quote on quote “pretty babies”. My father, may he rest in piece was dark. I’m a medium brown. I have four sisters, two that are what we could call high yellow and two others who are dark. One of my fair-skinned sisters is married to a man who has a similar skin complexion as myself. They have three children. Two of the dark, one of them fair. Even if you are not dark, that gene may come up generations later, which is why this who ‘I would never marry someone dark because I don’t want that in my gene pool’ is bullshit because IT’S ALREADY THERE! Be proud of your blackness regardless of your shade. “Racially Ambiguous”? Yeah, I can spot it a mile away. “She Puerto Rican” but her mama’s last name is Rideaux and her dad is an Orsot. “I’m not black” But your folks got out here the same time mine did. No ma’am, no sir. Embrace the shades; we come in all colors of the rainbow. We have red, yellow, and blue undertones and each shade is beautiful in its own way.

She hit the send button shortly afterwards before going to take a shower. The kids had just eaten supper and she had an evening lecture tomorrow. After taking a shower, she fixed a hot tidy and watched some TV, really, let the TV watch her. She began dozing off shortly after an episode of “The Haves and The Have Nots”, her husband came in the room and laughed at her, “Why are you watching that trashy show?” he asked. “It’s fascinating, I love it. It’s juicy!” she responded as she turned the volume up.

He then continued. “Tyler Perry either does shows that are really good or really bad. I’d like to see better representation of black actors than this, but the gain, I don’t like soap operas in general, they’re too silly.” He then went to the den after getting a can of beer.

Deja was sitting in her room looking at notes for her book, she started thinking about the second chapter and what to discuss, she thought about traveling with her older sisters on the bus and how aunts would sent plane tickets to Los Angeles. She texted Yvonne and asked if she’d be available for coffee later tomorrow afternoon. Shortly after receiving confirmation of the date, Aundrea came in the room briefly and asked, “How’s dad? He seems a bit frustrated”

The following morning, alarms go off in the house and the kids are at the breakfast table. “so when is our first casual dress day” Aundrea asked. “umm….I believe it’s next Friday” Malachi responded. Quincy was still sleep at the time, but got up in time to tell the children to have a good day. After breakfast, they headed to their destinations. Aundrea was in her reading class where the teacher was giving a lesson on fiction vs nonfiction while giving a synopsis on the weeks to come. Aundrea noticed a girl with the book “Alias Grace” on the front of her desk. The teacher informed them that they would begin a movie next week; in the meantime, they were reading “100 years of solitude”. The bell was getting ready to ring when the teacher announced that there would be a group activity once this story was complete and that they were be pairing up. After class, she asked the girl if she wished to be partners for the group activity next class.

They parted ways and went to their next classes.

Quincy was at home getting dressed to go to the library to fill out job applications. As he was leaving, he got an alert for a job interview with the food stamp program at 10:00 am on Friday. After calling to confirm the appointment, he got in his truck. He stayed at the library for approximately two hours submitting 11 applications. Not wanting to go back hoe, he decided to stop at a bar where he had two beers. While looking for work, he figured he would study for some civil service exams. Refusing to be a bum, he gathered some study guides from Barnes and Noble along with some scratch paper from the dollar store before heading home.

At school, Aundrea and Brianna were getting to know one another. They talked things such as boys, interest, things they do for fun then Brianna giving Aundrea some information regarding the book. “I saw it available at the library, you should check it out. No offense, but I’m funny about letting people borrow from me”

“None taken, I’m the same way” Aundrea responded

She then told Brianna that she should meet her brother. “You and my twin brother would be like BFFs, he’s also an avid reader. I’d imagine he’s read the book. I will have to introduce you to him one of these days.

Deja was in English giving a lecture on examples of plagiarism. She assigned a reading and reminded her students that their essays would be due Friday and there would be a quiz Monday on the plagiarism lesson. “I’ll see you next class”

Azalea had just finished giving a lecture when she got a call from her daycare regarding her son. He was running a high temperature and was vomiting. She had to end her lecture and pick up her children bringing her son to the emergency room. While in the ER filling out paperwork, she began answering a series of questions regarding the health of her children. She knew that other than her Gabriel’s sickle cell, there were no other health ailments in the family. She called her husband who left work when he got the news. He then called, Yvonne.

“Has anyone called Deja?” Azalea asked, “She’s probably in class”.

“I called her” Yvonne confirmed, “told her I’d keep her updated as we found out more”

The doctor out after about two hours and informed them that Gabriel would be fine and that this isn’t uncommon. At daycares, children catch all sorts of things and that it’s highly likely that he got it from another child.

Relieved, Azalea cried tears of joy as Yvonne texted Deja the news.

Yvonne and Deja still met for coffee. Deja ordered a caramel latte while Yvonne got a basic cup of coffee. After adding her cream and sugar, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey and promptly poured two cap fulls of it into her java.

“Damn girl!” Deja said, “That bad?!”

Yvonne responded “Look, I’m a social worker. I take on other people’s problems, sometimes it drives me to drink!”

They resumed drinking their coffee while having the conversation. Deja took notes while this transpired.

TO BE CONTINUED WITH EPISODE 12

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