Still Points North by Leigh Newman

Author:Leigh Newman [Newman, Leigh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-679-60355-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2013-03-19T04:00:00+00:00

“We’d like to welcome Flight 4924, service to JFK International,” a man’s voice singsongs on the microphone. I start, jumping out of my seat—back in Sea-Tac, back in reality. I check for my bag, to make sure it’s still there. It is. The great thing about a duffel is that you can mash it into an overhead compartment, allowing you to take twice as much stuff on board as in a hard roller suitcase—meaning that not only do I never check a bag but also if I want to walk up to the Northwest desk and change my flight and head up straight to Alaska, I can.

A little pastoral scene glitters through my mind: Dad and me standing by the smoking grill, slapping backs, talking and laughing everything off. Because lots of kids sneak out and drink and lie and act like self-centered, self-destructive jackasses for a while, don’t they?

Then why do I still feel so guilty? Why do I feel like I’ve ruined something that can’t ever be righted, even after all these years and, at this point, ridiculous amounts of distance? There’s this huge, ugly gulf that opens up every time my father and I talk—and we just keep skittering over it, ignoring it, chatting about his new vacuum sealer for frozen fish or my latest trip to Turin. I’m not sure if he’d be hurt or relieved if he found out that I’d come this close to Alaska and chosen not to pay him a visit.

“New York,” the man on the microphone says. “We’d like to welcome our first-class passengers and elite World Perks members to begin boarding.” I stand up. I even reach for my wallet. But once at the counter, I feel foolish. I don’t know what I’d say to Dad, and I can’t just show up at his door without calling—which, I know more than anyone, just means I won’t, because can’t does live on won’t street—just the way he always said.

I get in line, along with the families and “passengers requiring extra time such as those with small children, disabilities, or unaccompanied minors.” I’m no longer in the latter category, of course, and the stewardess gives me the eyeball as I hand her my ticket. I give her one back. She stamps my boarding pass, and lets me on that plane.

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