Behind us, the woman’s voice rose again.
“Some of us actually have planes to catch, you know.”
The supervisor turned to face her. “Ma’am, please stay where you are.”
“I was already up there.”
A man standing behind her spoke up. “No, you weren’t. You cut right in front of him.”
Her cheeks flushed pink.
“I stepped into an open space.”
“You shoved past an old man with a cane,” a woman nearby added.
Dad closed his eyes, as if the whole scene exhausted him.
“Please. That’s enough.”
The older pilot, who introduced himself as Captain Grant, settled his cap back on his head.
“Thomas is right. Let’s keep this line moving.”
The supervisor returned us to our original spot and moved the woman in the navy suit behind us.
She looked like she could have set the carpet on fire with her stare.
Dad never once looked back at her.
Part 3: The Truth He Buried
When we came out the other side of screening, the younger pilot handed Dad his jacket with both hands, the way you’d hand someone something precious.
Dad folded it so the wings disappeared.
“What are those?” I asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“You’ve kept them for 34 years, and you never once told us what they meant.”
His eyes cut to me, sharp.
“You told Mom you worked maintenance,” I said. “You told me. You told Claire.”
“I did work around airplanes.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“Elaine.”
“No.”
I stepped closer, my voice dropping.
“Two pilots just took off their caps for you. A security supervisor looked at you like he’d seen a ghost. One of those men clearly knows you, and you’re carrying wings I have never seen before in my life.”
Dad picked up his cane. “We have a wedding to get to.”
Grant appeared at our side.
“You’re at gate B17, right?”
Dad nodded.
