Life Happens- 1941

Chapter 10

Elliot was in the plane.  They had been hit and their tale was on fire.  The plane spiraled downward.  The flames leapt at him and ate through the metal hungrily, like a ravenous monster.  I called to him, waving my arms frantically, helplessly.  He beat on the hatch but it would not open.  We looked at each other for a split second before I screamed and the plane exploded.  I woke up, in a sweaty, emotional frenzy.  Was this what it would be like?  Was this possible?  Yes, it was possible.  But why would his plane get hit?  There would be no war.  Right?  I ran my hands through my hair and rubbed at my sleepy eyes.  I untangled my feet from the covers and rolled over.  Elliot was laying next to me, sleeping peacefully.  These nightmares had been haunting my sleep quite frequently.  I just hated how real they felt.  I would wake up, truly mortified, believing that Elliot wasn’t really there.  He was, for now, safely in bed with me.  But what about in another year?  How could I possibly let him go?

I felt as though I had predetermined our fate.  Why wasn’t I trying to stop him?  What could I say to change his mind?  I knew there was nothing I could do, nothing I could say.  He had already made up his mind.  I would have no choice but to let him go.  

The day passed slowly.  At noon, I sat down with a book and curled up with Percival.  At least I would have him around.  I couldn’t focus on the book.  I re-read the same paragraph five times and it still wasn’t making sense.  I put it down on the table and pulled my sweater tighter around my body.  I walked over to the record player and put on some Frank Sinatra.  I closed my eyes and sighed, remembering the good times when life was simpler, so much less confusing.

~*~

The McIntyre’s lived in a small, red brick house on Butler Street.  They had the most beautiful cherry blossom tree in their front yard; it flourished in the spring.  It was the first time I had met Elliot’s parents, Richard and Carolyn.  Elliot had mentioned them many times.  Richard, the product of an old school generation, was a retired pilot.  He had his own airplane, the Major.  He flew the Major all over the place.  It was his escape.  Carolyn aspired to be a singer.  She was lovely too.  So kind, and those beautiful blue eyes were just like Elliot’s.  She worked at the drugstore downtown.  

I remember walking up those steps to their front door as though it happened yesterday.  I knocked on the door.  After a few seconds, Elliot peeked out from behind it.

“Charlotte!  I’m so glad you could make it!  They’re waiting inside.”  He took me by the hand.  I was seventeen  at the time.  

As  Elliot led me through the door, I became especially nervous.  I was so afraid his parents wouldn’t like me.  But his touch comforted me.  He led me through the hallway, which was decorative with a clean, dark wood floor.  Pictures lined the wall.  There were several of Elliot from back when he was just a little kid.  One of them in particular made me laugh.  Elliot was in the Major, his father’s biplane, with father and their dog, Charlie.  Elliot had little, chubby cheeks and his hair was flying all over the place.   These are the kind of memories I cling to.  My sacred collection of remember-when‘s.  

The smell of pot roast drifted in from the kitchen and my stomach made a growling noise.  I could hear the radio playing in the back ground.  A couple of plates clinked together and I could hear two voices laughing about things which were unheard.  We walked into the sitting room (it was connected to the kitchen), and Richard jumped off the couch to greet me.

“Charlotte Hannigan.  So nice to finally meet you!”  He smiled warmly at me.

“It’s my pleasure sir.”  I replied.

“Oh, I’m too old to be called sir.”  Richard chuckled.  “Just call me Pop.”

“Okay Pop.”  We all laughed.  Carolyn came rushing in from the kitchen.  Her apron was heavily stained and her hair was all about as though she had been rushing around the oven cooking.  She elbowed Richard.