The Father

Chapter 34

What am I doing?

I ask myself this as I put my suitcase into the overhead bin. Joe helped me pack last night after I booked my flight and drove me here this afternoon so I wouldn't have to leave my car at the airport. He insisted on staying at my place and I think he was worried I was going to do something crazy or irrational.

This is the earliest flight I could get, at noon. I wanted something earlier so I could get there earlier, but I took what I could get.

I sit in my seat, stare out of the window at the runway, and slowly buckle myself in. This plane is going to take off soon and I'm hoping no one sits beside of me. I got a first class ticket just on the off chance that I could sit alone, there's more room, and far less people.

My hands are sweaty, my face is hot, and I can't stop bouncing my leg. I'm nervous and I hardly slept at all last night. I could barely get out of bed, I probably wouldn't have if Joe wasn't dragging me out. Any time I was actually able to fall asleep, it didn't last. I couldn't stop dreaming about her, even more so than usual. Vivid, realistic dreams of seeing her again.

I'm going all the way to Germany. I've never left the country before and at fifty-six, I'm doing it. I don't even know if she's still there. She could've been visiting on a trip and already be back here. But I know that's not true. He said she had a car and a house. I'm trying to think of a reason why I shouldn't go because I am scared. Terrified, really. Is this really where she went? She ran away to Germany? She felt like she had to get that far away from me? What did I ever do to her to make her think she needed to do that?

I guess I'm going to find out soon enough.

I sigh quietly and close my eyes. I doubt I'll be able to sleep on this flight, but I know I need to. I've booked a hotel room and rented a car already. The only two places I know I'll be able to find are that hotel and her place, because I have both addresses. After a moment of thought I take out my wallet, pull out the small slip of paper Joe gave me last night, and open it up for the hundredth time.

Black Forest Road, Mailbox 23

Gray Mercedes / PN: HD 022617

I fold it back up and tuck it into my wallet again. I definitely can't afford to lose that. As I stare out of the window again the pilots voice comes over the intercom, announcing that we will be departing soon. Thankfully, no one has sat down beside of me by the time the plane begins to move. I've never been a nervous flyer, but I feel fucking sick as we begin to leave the ground. So much so that I have to pull the blind down over the window.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

I look to the stewardess and contemplate if I should have alcohol right now. It might help calm my nerves. When I nod she hands me a small menu I look it over.

"Whiskey. Plenty of ice, please."

She smiles and I watch as she makes it. When she hands it to me I say thank you and take a long sip of it. It's quite good, smooth, but it hits my stomach like a ton of bricks. That's what I get for not eating, but how was I supposed to eat anything? I'm a wreck and I have absolutely no appetite. If I eat this airline food I'm sure I'll feel even worse, but I know I'll have to try to eat something when I get to the hotel. I have to have some sort of strength for tomorrow. I'm going to need it.

I finish my drink quickly and peer over the back of my seat. There's no one behind me, so I recline mine as far back as it will go. The further up we get into the sky, the colder it gets, but I've prepared for that by wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt.