Flying Too Close to the Sun George Jehn (best non fiction books of all time .txt) 📖

I loved deeply. At the time we were both high school seniors with all the graceless manners that go with that. Neither of us believed I would become pregnant, but when it happened, we went our separate ways.”

“Did he know you were pregnant? Did he ever see me after I was born?”

“The answer to those questions is, no,” Christina lied. “He died right after you were born.” The truth was far different. Christina’s mother had informed Brian’s parents of the situation and they had attempted to talk her into forcing Christina to have an abortion, but her Catholic upbringing precluded that. Until Brian’s death approximately a year later, neither he nor his parents wanted anything to do with Christina or Laurel. Christina slid her chair back squeakily on the hardwood floor. She stood up and requested the check, noting neither had touched their sandwich. Leaving the restaurant, Christina spotted Mimi seated on a metal bench on the concourse. “I told her,” Christina informed a frowning Mimi. “There’s another item she has my permission to share with you and only you. I trust you will respect my wish.”

Mimi nodded her head in the affirmative.

The three ladies stood there awkwardly looking from floor to ceiling and Christina felt things had gone as well as expected. No doubt Laurel had plenty running through her mind and needed time to digest it all. Hopefully, they could eventually strike up a close relationship and become best of friends. Christina had never allowed herself to become too attached to anyone since her last divorce. She had constructed a hidden wall with everyone except her son Jimmy, a structure she would tear down in a heartbeat for Laurel. Christina broke the awkward silence. “Here is my home telephone number,” as she handed Laurel her card. “I’m going to purchase a cellphone and I’ll make certain you also have that number. Think over what I’ve told you and call after the doctor’s visit and let me know how it went.” After again shaking hands she quickly headed to the departure gate for the next flight, two hours earlier than planned.

During the return flight Christina was pleased she hadn’t been totally rejected. Maybe there was a hint of childlike longing in Laurel’s eyes? She’d give her a week or so to think everything over and visit the doctor. If she didn’t call, then Christina would call her.

Once aboard the return flight, after reclining her seat, Christina felt a slight headache and recalled the doctor’s words about how stress and epilepsy went hand in hand. She certainly currently had her fill of stress and silently vowed to put her scheme with Erik into operation as quickly as possible.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Upon arrival at the somewhat unkempt Rodriguez English Tudor home in Hollis, Queens, before reaching the front door it swung open and a smiling Carol greeted Erik with a peck on the cheek. He immediately took note of her clingy dark blue dress with a slit up the side and mesh stockings, but before he could utter anything she informed him with a bright smile, “I’m so proud of you for helping save all those people, so I got you something.” She removed an unwrapped box from a drawer in the small table by the door.

“For me?”

“Open it.”

The box contained a white T-shirt with the words MY HERO emblazoned in bright red on the front and back.

“You shouldn’t have,” a blushing Erik fibbed. The truth was if his chest stuck out any farther someone would think he had just finished pumping iron. “Maybe I’ll wear it to work?” he joked, recalling what O’Brien had said.

“I chose the words myself. You can try it on later ‘cause I want to introduce you to my folks.” She led him through a living room with French provincial furniture and quite a few books strewn about. One item in particular jumped out at him, a large, empty wooden picture frame hanging on the wall with the hand-stenciled word RESERVED in the center.

“What’s that?” he asked as they passed it.

“That’s where my degree will go, a reminder to study hard. Neither parent attended college, so it’s special.”

Erik could almost feel the difference between this home and his house, notwithstanding the lack of colorful flowers or weed-less lawn. It held a special karma and warmth he couldn’t put his finger on, something coming from within and running throughout. Entering a small den, a big man with a full head of wavy, gunmetal hair was seated behind a heavy oak desk, wearing dark linen trousers and striped, open collared shirt. The seemingly compulsively sloppy, Persian-carpeted room also contained a long leather couch, accented by rustic, oak end tables along with two wrought iron bookshelves containing what appeared to be over a hundred paperback and hardcover books. Erik’s eyes were always attracted to books almost as much as a nice cleavage, because what a person reads reveals lots about their persona. These were mostly nonfiction, arranged on either side of a massive stone fireplace, which even in the heat of summer imparted warmth.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet my flight instructor, Erik Preis. Erik, this is my father, Sal Rodriguez.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Rodriguez.”

Sal Rodriguez was a man with a quarterback look, rolled up shirtsleeves exposing Popeye-like forearms, a friendly smile and square-shouldered heft. Rising to his feet and extending a huge, warm hand, Sal Rodriguez remarked in a soft spoken voice, “The pleasure’s all mine. And please call me Sal, otherwise I feel too damned old.”

An attractive woman wearing a shortish black dress, white silk scarf and small diamond earrings next entered. Her dark flowing hair, almond eyes and tender smile betrayed the fact she was Carol’s mother. Extending his hand to her, as pleasantries were exchanged, Erik discovered her name was Anita. They sat down and Sal offered a drink, which Erik declined. Anita Rodriguez commented, “Carol tells us you’re an excellent flight instructor. How long have you been in that line of