26
chris
My meeting in Dallas runs so late on Friday afternoon that I miss my flight. I manage to get a seat on a later flight, but it’s canceled, too. It’s been a long, grueling week and all I want to do is get home so I can see Claire and the kids and catch up on some sleep in my own bed. I pull out my phone and when Claire answers I say, “Hi. I’m still at the airport. My meeting ran late and I missed my flight. The one after it was canceled, so I’m on standby for the next two. They’re both pretty full so the chances of me getting home tonight are slim.”
“What are you going to do?” she asks, and I can hear the concern in her voice. “Are you going to check back into the hotel?”
“I don’t know. I booked myself on the 7:10 A.M. flight tomorrow morning, just in case. Something tells me that might be the one I’m on. I’ll probably just stay here.”
“You sound really tired.”
I take a deep breath and exhale. “I’m okay. How are the kids?”
“They’re missing you. They’ll be disappointed if you don’t make it home tonight, but they’ll understand.”
I don’t think they’ll understand. Claire told me a few weeks ago that they start watching the door a half hour before I’m due home. Nothing will make them happy but the sight of me actually walking through it.
“Tell them I’ll take them somewhere fun tomorrow.”
“They’re supposed to go to the circus with my parents tomorrow night and then sleep over. Do you want me to keep them home instead?”
“No. That’s not fair to them. If I get on the early flight, I should be home by nine thirty or so, depending on how long it takes me to find my luggage after I land. We’ll have all day.” I pause when an announcement comes over the loudspeaker. “Listen. I better go. I’ll text you when I know more. Hopefully I’ll be home by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
After I hang up I eat a crappy taco and wait to see if I’ll be lucky enough to get on the next standby flight. Unfortunately, I’m not. I also discover that the taco was a very bad idea, and I pop a few antacids and thumb through the abandoned copy of Time magazine that someone left on the chair next to me. When I’m done with the magazine I put it back for the next person and open my laptop. I work for close to two hours and then I’m just as unlucky when the next standby flight takes off and I’m not on it. I’m not looking forward to spending the night at the airport, but it’s almost midnight and I’m too tired to deal with checking back into a hotel. I find a seat in the corner next to a wall and I wedge my laptop in the small space between my body and the arm of the chair. Leaning my head against the wall, I doze fitfully, waking up half a dozen times. I’m the first one in line the next morning when they announce the boarding call for my flight.
I walk in the door at nine thirty, in desperate need of more coffee, a shower, and a shave; I’m way past a five o’clock shadow. The kids are eating breakfast and they fly out of their chairs and into my arms.
“Daddy!”
“Hey, guys,” I say, pulling them closer. “I missed you.”
“Mom said you’re gonna take us someplace today,” Josh says.
“Daddy might be too tired,” Claire says. “Let him sit down and have some coffee.”
“Are you too tired, Daddy?” Jordan asks. She looks at me, a worried expression on her face, lip wobbling.
Oh, I am putty in her hands, always will be. “I’m never too tired,” I say, picking her up and giving her a kiss.
She smiles and throws her arms around me, nuzzling my cheek. “Your face is scratchy.”
I give her a squeeze and set her down. “Go get dressed. You, too, Josh.” Josh slurps up the last of his cereal, sets his bowl and spoon in the sink, and follows his sister.
I sit down at the kitchen table and Claire pours me a cup of coffee. “Do you want some breakfast? Eggs?” she asks.
I take a drink of the coffee, which tastes so much better than anything I had at the airport, and nod my head. “That would be great.”
“Did you go back to the hotel?” she asks.
“No. I stayed all night in the terminal. By the time all the standby flights left it was so late that it just seemed easier to stay. I dozed a little, in a chair.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to bed?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” I watch as Claire cracks two eggs into a bowl. She looks tired, too. “Did you get along okay while I was gone?”
“Yes,” she says, whisking the eggs and pouring them into a pan. “No major problems. The kids were pretty good.”
The oven timer goes off and I notice the cookies that are cooling on the baking racks that cover the countertops. “Why are you baking so many cookies?”
“Because Julia flaked on me. Today’s the bake sale for the PTO and I found out at eleven o’clock last night that she forgot to make her share of the cookies. I have to take eight dozen of them to the school at noon so we’ll have something to sell during the afternoon shift. I’ve been baking since 5:00 A.M.” Claire opens the oven and removes a tray of cookies. “Let’s get the diabetic to do it,” she mutters under her breath.
“Why’d Julia flake?” I ask.
“She claims she doesn’t remember being asked.”
• • •
Around eleven, after I’ve had a chance to shower, shave, and respond to several e-mails that need my immediate attention, I take the kids to the pizza parlor near our house. It has an indoor arcade complete with bumper cars, inflatable bounce houses, slides, and a rock climbing wall. The kids would happily spend every Saturday here if Claire and I let them. When we get back home I mow the lawn and toss the football around with Josh while Jordan plays in the sandbox. I’m deliriously tired and running on fumes. Claire returns from the bake sale around four and tells the kids to come in and take showers.
“We need to leave for Grandma and Grandpa’s house soon,” she says.
“The circus!” Josh says. “I almost forgot.” They rush inside, eager to move on to the next wave of entertainment.
I put the lawn mower away and when I walk back into the house, Claire is in the kitchen rubbing a chicken with spices and tucking lemon slices and pats of butter under the skin. Watching her slide it into the oven, I think about how nice it will be to eat a home-cooked meal and spend some quiet time with my wife, without the kids vying for our attention.
Josh and Jordan come downstairs after their showers and Claire checks their overnight bags, making sure they’ve packed everything they need and not just toys like last time.
“Bye, Dad,” they say, each of them giving me a kiss and a hug before they hurry out to the car.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour. We can eat in relative peace,” Claire says, smiling.
I smile back. “Sounds good,” I say, rubbing my eyes. And then I head upstairs to take another shower.