Chương 2
He also remembered her saying, Please, just get him to the elevator. I’ll meet you there.
She had not met them there.
That was the part everyone knew.
The part no one knew was that Leo had seen a supervisor block her path.
He had not thought about it again until now.
Dana set the scissors down. “What exactly do you remember?”
Leo pushed the macaroni away.
At the airport the day before, everything had smelled like coffee and floor polish. Leo had been wearing the same hoodie, the same faded jeans, and the same patch-covered backpack. He and his mother had arrived three hours early for his flight because she distrusted parking garages, security lines, weather forecasts, and every mechanical object larger than a washing machine.
The eighth-grade history club was traveling to Washington, D.C. Leo had spent eleven months earning his share of the trip cost by walking dogs, washing cars, and helping Mr. Patel at the corner store break down cardboard boxes. The school scholarship fund had paid the rest.
He had never flown before.
His mother had not been allowed beyond security because the ticket was in his name and he was traveling with the school group. She had hugged him twice, then called him from the parking garage to remind him that chewing gum could help with pressure in his ears.
He was searching his backpack for the gum when he heard a crutch hit the floor.
Luke Harris sat in a wheelchair near a closed information desk. One aluminum crutch had slipped sideways. A black duffel bag was wedged beneath the footrest. Travelers moved around him without stopping.
His Navy uniform was covered by a gray sweatshirt, but Leo saw the military identification tag on his bag.
The man tried to reach the crutch.
Leo picked it up.
“Thank you,” Luke had said. His voice was rougher then, less controlled. “Passenger assistance is coming back.”
Marisol appeared less than a minute later.
She was pushing an elderly woman in another wheelchair while speaking into her radio.
“I have three transfers and one chair,” she said to someone Leo could not see. “I told you he’s going to miss C-seventeen.”
The radio answered in a burst of static and an irritated male voice.
Marisol parked the elderly woman beside the information desk and crouched in front of Luke.
“Lieutenant Harris, I’m sorry. Your gate changed again.”
“How far?”
“Other concourse.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you need the elevator, the connector, and Gate C-seventeen.”
Luke looked at the departure screen.
Boarding had already begun.
Marisol’s radio called her name.
She stood and looked from Luke to the elderly woman. Then she looked at Leo.
“You traveling alone?”
“My school group is at B-twelve.”
Her eyes went to the clock. “That’s close.”
Leo nodded, though he had no idea whether it was close.
Marisol gripped the handles of Luke’s chair. She took three fast steps before a man in a navy blazer intercepted her. His airport badge swung from a blue lanyard.
“Vega, priority client at A-six.”
“This passenger boards in eleven minutes.”
“Then dispatch another attendant.”
“I have been.”
“Go to A-six.”
“He can’t push himself.”
The supervisor glanced at Luke as if Luke were a piece of luggage with a damaged wheel.
Then his gaze landed on Leo.
“You,” he said. “You with the backpack. Give her a hand to the elevator.”
Marisol’s expression changed.
“No,” she said quickly. “He’s a minor.”
The supervisor had already turned away.
His shoes struck the floor in sharp, impatient taps.
Marisol looked at Luke, then at the elderly woman, then toward the departure board.
“Just the elevator,” she told Leo. “Straight down, past the coffee place. I’ll come around after I get Mrs. Kemp to her daughter.”
“Will I make B-twelve?”
“You should.”
Should.
Leo disliked the word even before he understood what it would cost.
He pushed Luke toward the elevator.
The chair resisted whenever the floor changed from tile to carpet. Luke’s duffel slid sideways. One crutch dragged until Leo stopped and repositioned it.
“You don’t have to run,” Luke said.
“I’m not running.”
“You’re breathing like you are.”
“I always breathe like this.”
Luke looked over his shoulder.
Leo thought the man might be smiling, but pain had pulled his face into something harder to read.
At the elevator, no attendant arrived.
Luke pressed the call button twice.
Leo checked the time.
His school group would be lining up.
“You can go,” Luke said.
Leo looked at the crowded concourse. The elevator doors opened. Inside, a family moved a stroller aside but did not offer to help.
“What happens when you get downstairs?”
“I find the connector.”
“Can you?”
Luke rested one hand on the brace beneath his sweatpants. “Eventually.”
Eventually was worse than should.
Leo pushed the wheelchair into the elevator.
They made the connector train with seconds to spare. Leo stood with his feet planted wide while the chair rolled slightly each time the train changed speed. Luke gripped the armrests and watched the station signs.
At Concourse C, the elevator was out of service.
A yellow sign directed passengers to a ramp at the far end of the station.
Luke closed his eyes.
Only for a second.
When he opened them, the red had deepened around the edges.
“My daughter thinks I’m landing at four-ten,” he said.
Leo tightened his grip on the handles.
“How old is she?”
“Eight.”
“Does she know you got hurt?”
“She knows enough.”
Leo pushed faster.
Luke’s gate agent was preparing to close the boarding door when they arrived. A flight attendant saw the uniform identification on the duffel bag and held the door while Luke transferred from the chair to his crutches.
He turned before crossing the threshold.
“Your gate.”
Leo looked at the time.
His own flight had departed four minutes earlier.
Now, at the kitchen table, Dana listened without interrupting.
May you like
When Leo finished, she sat across from him.
“You never told me about the supervisor.”
