“Why Disneyland?”
***
A month later, she called.
The trip was approved.
We did not tell Mike until the tickets arrived because hope had become something Stella and I handled carefully. We had seen plans disappear after one bad scan.
When we finally showed him, he read the destination twice.
Then he whispered, “All three of us?”
The trip was approved.
“All three,” Stella said.
He hugged the tickets to his chest.
That was how we reached seat 12A.
***
Mike had the window. Stella sat in the middle. I took the aisle and pretended not to notice how often she checked his color.
He hugged the tickets to his chest.
A flight attendant named Dana brought him apple juice in a plastic cup.
“Do pilots really say ‘roger’?” Mike asked.
“Sometimes.”
“Do they have keys?”
“I’ll ask,” she said.
“Can airplanes get tired?”
Dana glanced at me before answering. “Not when they know where they’re going.”
Mike smiled.
“Do pilots really say ‘roger’?”
Then the captain’s voice came over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Harris. We are cruising at thirty-five thousand feet and expect a smooth flight into Los Angeles.”
Mike looked disappointed.
“He didn’t say ‘roger.’”
The captain continued: “We also have a special guest with us today. Mike, in seat 12A, I hope you’re enjoying your trip so far.”
“We also have a special guest with us today.”
My son froze with a straw between his lips.
Passengers turned toward us.
Mike lowered the cup.
“He knows my seat.”
Dana stood near the front galley, smiling.
Captain Harris spoke again.
“Mike, before we land, there is one thing about this trip that you and your parents know nothing about.”
Passengers turned toward us.
