Page 80 of Come Fly with Me

If he cares anything about his job, he’ll move on and make sure he gets on his flight to Tahiti, even if I don’t show up.

“Carrie,” I call to her from the top of my stairs, “you can go. I’ll meet you at your house later.”

“You sure?” she asks back. “You want to talk about what happened?”

“What do you think?”

She laughs a little, and I can picture her face: her eyes wrinkling up a little at the corners, her mouth slipping up into a small smile. Carrie and Charlie have been the only constant in my life for the last ten years, my supporters, my cheerleaders, my family. This job is lonely, and I don’t get home often enough, and without Carrie and Charlie, I would be alone. They’ve proven time and time again that they will drop everything for me, and they have never once broken that trust. They know I would do the same for them.

“I’m here when you’re ready,” Carrie announces, and I hear her feet on the wood floor as she makes her way to the front door.

“I know you are and there will come a time when I’m ready to obsess over it and analyze it, but now’s not the time.”

As I stand here looking at myself in the mirror with my smeared makeup and my blotchy face, I snap a picture as a reminder to myself that I won’t ever let anyone fuck with me or my emotions again. When I’ve long since forgotten the pain of being cheated on once again, I’ll pull out this picture to slap me across the face and bring me back to reality that men lie, men manipulate women and leave them with a chip on their shoulder.

My phone chimes out, and I hate to even look at it, expecting to see a text from Jake. But what I get is a quick note from my supervisor asking me to stop by so I can pick up a copy of my evaluation and sign off on my next step on the salary scale.

He thinks I’ll be at the airport today and his text reminds me to login to set up a reserve pilot for my flight to Tahiti. As I do, I pick up a new flight to Anchorage tomorrow morning in its place.

Before heading over to Carrie and Charlie’s, I decide to stop by and see my supervisor to gather everything I need to finalize my evaluation.

I feel like I’m walking through a fog, heavy and thick, clouding my thoughts and at times making me wonder how I even got to where I am. It’s like my body is going through the motions, but I can’t recall any of it.

My chest aches, dull and continuous, and as much as I don’t want to think about Jake, I find my thoughts consumed with him. I hate that he has this control over me and when I walk into my supervisor’s office, I suck in a hard breath determined not to let it show that I’m floundering.

“Hey, Taylor,” he says, glancing up briefly from his computer screen. “Thought you’d be on your way to beautiful sunny Tahiti by now.”

“Change of plans,” I mutter out, shrugging my shoulders as I take a seat in the chair across from his desk.

He slides a printed copy of my evaluation across the desk and motions with his head to a cup full of pens.

“Just need you to sign off on it. Same as what we discussed the other day.” His tone is casual, as if he’s talking with an old friend, and for a split second, I feel myself relax. “I said it before, you’re a great pilot, one of our best. Your commitment and service to Crescent Airways is unmatched.”

The more he talks, the more anxious I grow. He’s placating me with his words, trying to make me feel important before he hits me with something disappointing.

Today is the wrong day for this shit.

I straighten up in my chair, sitting taller as I uncross my legs and lift my chin in his direction. My eyes close slowly, a deep breath being drawn in as he continues.

“But this year…” he pauses, clearing his throat, “you’ll receive your yearly step on the salary scale, but there is no money for an increase…”

This time, it’s me who creates his next pause, stopping him at his next word and reminding him of his poor choice of words previously.

“So my commitment and service to this airline being unmatched means nothing. My salary will still fall below my male counterparts and I’ll still put in the same effort, the same drive to be successful, but I’ll make seventy-three cents for every dollar the men at this airline make. Honestly, that’s just the average; it’s totally possible that I make less than that even. You can take your words and shove…”

“Taylor,” he snaps, his eyes wide and his tone clipped. “I tried, I really did because I know you’re an asset to our team, but the money just isn’t there.”

“You’re sitting here telling me that you were given no money for raises this year? No money for defined contribution or from profit-sharing?” I lean forward, my eyebrows going up as I ask my questions and knowing his answers are going to be bullshit.

“Well, yes, but you know I can’t discuss other employees’ salaries with you.”

“That’s a cop-out, and you know it. I’m not asking you to discuss someone’s salary with me. I’m asking you to explain to me why I make less than, let’s say, Tom Smith? We have the same experience, the same number of flight hours logged, the same title, but he’ll get that eighteen percent profit-share that I won’t.”

“You’ll get yours, Taylor. No one is keeping that from you.”

I laugh out loud at his comment. There’s truth in his words but there’s also manipulation. That pool of money will be divided up and I’ll get a percentage, yes, but no matter how well I do my job or how many hours I log, I’ll still end up with less.

“I can’t keep having this conversation,” I announce, my hand flying up to stop him from continuing to speak. “I’ve gone every route in this industry to be respected, even losing my own self-respect in the process, but I’m done.”

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