Page 45 of Flyboy

“I—I’m sorry I swam toward the shark.”

He studied her for a few moments, long enough that she couldn’t even begin to guess what was going through his mind. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?”

“That’s why you went white when I told you that you were flying today? That’s why you almost passed out in the hall? Because of the shark?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I’m not totally sure what’s wrong with me.”

He studied her some more, and then his maddening, slow smile took over his face, and she was caught up in it, watched it, and felt its magic hover around inside.

“What?” She returned his amused and caring expression with a growing smile of her own. “What is so entertaining?” She crossed her arms.

“Well, for one, I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

“What?” She was beginning to sound like a child on repeat.

“That kind of reckless behavior that puts other pilots at risk.”

She groaned. “And that’s the other thing.”

“Ah, so there’s more.”

“Of course. I’m not sitting up all night with terrible dreams because of the shark.”

“Well, I would have been.” He eyed her. “Just saying.”

“I’m sorry for that letter of complaint I wrote.”

“So, you’re having remorse?”

“Yes, no. Not really, no. I’m just sorry about the letter because I was wrong.”

“Don’t worry about that. We all knew you were wrong.”

“You did?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about her opinions being discounted.

“Don’t get me wrong. I was struck . . . I considered your opinions. I may have toned down my original introductions to the pilots. I see how I’m coming across.”

“Hmm.” She fidgeted. “And I want to tell you about my brother.”

“Can we talk about it up in the air?”

She shuddered.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m having a relapse of stress surrounding the actions of Guido.”

“Guido? The guy who nearly lost his life going after some bogies over Iraq?”

“Yes.”

“You were up in that plane?”

She nodded.

“Now that is the first bit of sense I’ve heard you say in this whole conversation.”

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