The Light That I'd Bless Chapter 16
PLEASE NOTE...DANGER WILL ROBINSON...THIS IS A FLASHBACK...IF YOU MISS THIS MEMO, YOU ARE GOING TO BE HELLA CONFUSED.
FLASHBACK FLASHBACK FLASHBACK FLASHBACK FLASHBACK
Chapter 16
FEBRUARY 4TH, 2011
Reid’s flight had arrived in Chicago an hour before and now, he sat in the airport awaiting his connecting flight. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, images of the last few months playing like a silent film across his closed eyelids.
The kidnapping, his weeks in a drug-induced haze courtesy of a weeping mess of a woman, his subsequent experience in rehab and recovery, and finally, the last couple of weeks spent in solitude, pouring over Andrew’s diaries and trying to make sense of what had become of him.
For practical purposes, he remained Andrew Oliver. He’d used Andrew’s identification to book his flights and it was Andrew’s money that had paid for them. Reid had found a very large sum of money hidden in his brother’s mattress and did not feel an even small amount of guilt over taking it and using it for now. He could honestly have lived quite well for quite some time off of it, if he were so inclined. But, no, he just needed it for now, a means to an end…to assist in taking him where he needed to be.
He looked down at his watch and, seeing the time, stood up and made his way to his gate.
The blue-eyes scanned the departure monitor, making sure that his connecting flight was scheduled to leave on time. Almost as soon as he found his flight, he heard them announce that it was time to board. He tucked the numerous newspapers that he’d purchased at the airport under his arm as he prepared to hand the agent his boarding pass.
Good morning, sir. Enjoy your flight.
Reid grimaced and blanched a bit.
An impossible task.
The agent smiled encouragingly and offered him a pat on the arm.
It’s a short flight, sir, over before you know it.
He gave her a weak smile and nodded his head before continuing on to embark on the remainder of his journey.
God, he hated flying, and, as if shooting through the sky in a piece of tin wasn’t bad enough, the plane he was boarding was the size of a coffee can. He swallowed audibly as his foot hit the first step and prayed to whoever was listening that the agent was correct and that this would soon be a distant memory.
He found his seat and placed his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment. He’d been sure to book a window seat, but as he sat down, he realized that, in such a small plane, it may have been a mistake. The plane would surely feel even the most mild breeze and he wondered if watching out the window as the landscape bounced and shifted would throw him over the edge. Fuck me.
As he waited for take-off, he laid his head back on his chair and closed his eyes, meditating in an attempt to calm his fluttering heart and dry his sweaty palms. It was hard to be sure what had him at such loose ends…the flight or what awaited him at his destination.
He physically cringed at the sound of the engine starting and the muscles in his neck shortened by an inch as the plane left the ground. He was pretty sure that the plane had gotten considerably smaller and he could feel the air stagnate all around him. Good God.
With shaky, damp hands, he picked up the newspapers he’d brought onboard to try to take his mind off of the encroaching panic. He tried the Wall Street Journal first, but found himself unable to read anything substantial. His nerves were entirely too rattled.
He looked through his small stack and remembered that, on a whim of nostalgia, he’d bought a copy of The Intruder. He wasn’t usually one to buy tabloid rags, but he thought it fitting this time.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the front page. Henry Coleman exiting a limo with his trench coat open just enough to reveal his hot pants, fishnets and stilettos…priceless.
Barbara Ryan’s Latest Takes the Boy out of Boy Toy
As he paged through the paper, he wondered why in the hell anyone would want to read this crap. It was killing brain cells just holding it in his hands, he was sure.
After scanning an article about yet another fire at a Craig Montgomery owned building (how did that man avoid a prison cell?), he turned the page, glanced at the photo that took up the entire left side and felt the color drain from his face.
He was instantly filleted and gutted. His eyes blurred and his heart pounded in his ears. He wanted to look away, but his eyes could not stop darting back and forth, studying the two smiles, the eyes that met in happy union, the clasped hands.
Local filmmaker, Noah Mayer, and his on-again/off-again/and clearly back on-again partner, Luke Snyder, are shown at the Sundance Film Festival where Mr. Mayer’s short film premiered. Looking cozy, boys, can wedding bells be far behind?
That was it. It was all gone now. All of it. Andrew had taken everything that mattered.
When his plane landed at Oakdale Airport, he went directly to the ticketing agent and bought a ticket on the next flight to the only place he could think of. He needed to go home.