Chapter 19: Temper
February 2011
Andy walked onto the plane with the last group of people – he had only just made it to the airport in time. He was shuffling towards his seat when he laid eyes on her. The setting sun caught her hair and brought out the red, making it look shiny and glossy. He had figured that she might be on the same plane. Her eyes were closed and her head was resting back against the seat. She looked like she was asleep with her mouth slightly open. It reminded him of the way she had looked sleeping in his arms only a few short months ago and a part of him desperately wanted to kiss her. He was about to move past her row when he had another look at his ticket stub. 34 B. That was the seat right next to her. His heart made an excited little jump and he thanked his lucky stars, or in that case, his son, because it was Ricky who had made the reservations for both of his parents.
That boy! He had invited them both to spend his birthday with him and had gotten them all tickets for the ballet. By some twist of fate Emily was dancing in San Francisco that same weekend – and then they would have the next day off together. He didn't feel like he deserved to be invited to their little family gathering, but his son had insisted. He had called Sharon who had told him that it was their son's birthday and his decision. "If Ricky wants to celebrate his birthday with his parents, that's his prerogative. We're adults, I'm expecting us to be civil." He lowered himself into his seat careful not to disturb her. While he was a little scared of her reaction he was mostly excited to be so close to her for the duration of the flight. Maybe they could talk a little, or maybe he could just look at her and loose himself in his dreams.
So much for having a free seat next to her. Her neighbour had arrived and by the feel of it, he was going to be someone who took up his space. Gosh, she hated airplanes. And then this guy had to be using Andy's aftershave. She sighed and turned her face towards the window. It was just as if Andy was there with her, his scent surrounding her enough to make her heart clench painfully. She had known that opening her heart even the tiniest little bit was a mistake and she had paid dearly for it in countless nights agonizing over what could have been.
She was lonely and if she was honest with herself, had been so since Ricky moved out. During the last years she had focussed on her children, Ricky in particularly who had gone though his own challenges. That temper she had spent so much time trying to understand when he was small had resurfaced again in his teenage years – with renewed intensity. Supporting her son, helping him address that uncontrolled fire had kept her busy, and had given her a purpose. Now he was grown, and independent, and doing well. So well. She was so proud of him. And she was alone. So alone.
She had good friends, close friends in whom she confided, but they didn't share her life the way her children had or the way a partner would. And rather than protect her heart and her sanity she had fallen back into old patterns and thrown herself into the arms of men she knew would only hurt her. Jack, who had so easily rekindled that once-there fondness, and Andy. Gosh, she had allowed herself to dream during those hours in the hospital and during the day that followed and those dreams … her heart hurt just remembering them.
She huffed, annoyed with herself. Now she was wide awake and feeling tearful while that stranger next to her smelled just like Andy. She had the sudden urge to lean into him, rest her head against his shoulder, pretend that life was different. The man was moving now, maybe in response to her annoyed sound. His elbow touched hers briefly over the shared armrest before he pulled it back. She squeezed her eyes together and willed herself to calm down, long steady breaths until …
"Do you have any cranberry juice?"
Of all people she could have sat next to! Of all people! And she was trapped. If only she had opted for an aisle seat, but she had wanted to sleep.
Ricky! He must have planned this, no matter how many times she had explained to him that there was nothing going on between Andy and her, that Andy had called Ricky and not her to wish him a Happy New year. She would never forget the hopeful look on Emily's face when she thought her mother had found someone special. At last.
Well, she had already made her peace with spending the weekend in Andy's presence. Who was she to turn down her son's request to celebrate his birthday with his parents? She had prepared herself for this weekend and really all that was happening was that it was starting a little earlier than planned. She took another calming breath. She could do this.
Sharon would have been fine. She could have kept up her pretence of sleep for the duration of the flight. Except that halfway through they found themselves rerouted only to land at some small local airport in the middle of nowhere. She opened her eyes when Andy's fidgeting became simply too much and turned her head – to look right into his brown eyes.
They greeted each other awkwardly and the expression on her face must have been darker than she thought because he apologised and immediately offered to change seats with someone else.
"Don't be ridiculous." Gosh, that had come out harsher than she meant. She was fairly sure that Andy had played no part in this little arrangement. They had her son, their son, to blame for this. "So, no cranberry juice, uh?"
He relaxed visibly and shook his head, before raising a glass of what looked like tomato juice to her. "No pomegranate either."
Sharon fought the memories that resurfaced at the cheeky expression on his face. Pomegranate and Soda. Brown eyes and soft lips. Hands that touched her with such tenderness. Arms that held her as though she was a precious treasure.
Emboldened by the wistful look on her face, Andy pushed on. "I know you're not exactly thrilled to be sitting next to me and I promise you, I won't bother you. But there is one thing I want to do before we get to San Francisco. There's something I want you to have."
Without waiting for her response Andy rooted around his carry-on until he produced an awkwardly wrapped present. "I wish I could take away those hurtful words I said to you. I was hurt, and angry and … and none of that is an excuse. But I am truly sorry, Sharon. This … this is for you. Not because I expect anything from you, but because I thought you might like it." He handed over the gift waiting for her to take it.
"You've already apologised. A present won't change anything."
It was a battle of wills, albeit a quiet one. His hand remained suspended in mid-air while she fixed her eyes on his face. Finally - and not without an expressive eyeroll - she took it and started ripping off the tattered paper. It reminded her of the year Ricky had refused Emily's help with the Christmas presents and had wrapped everything himself. Like father like son. Her face lit up when she revealed a picture frame holding a photograph of Ricky standing on the top of a mountain squinting into the sun, both hands raised in a gesture of victory.
"This is wonderful," she whispered while she ran a finger over the familiar features "I've never seen it before."
"I took it when I was up there a couple of weeks ago."
"Thank you," she said again and her voice was sincere. They fell quiet then, Sharon looking at the picture of Ricky, Andy looking at her.
/
"Bunch of incompetent idiots! What the hell do they think they're doing!" Andy had waited – and patiently so – for the better part of three hours. He had prided himself on keeping a lid on his temper, had called Ricky to let him know they'd be late, he had suffered through one stupid announcement after another, he had eaten the stale sandwich and drunk the warm soda, but there were limits and he had reached his long ago. "How hard can it be to get us some decent food?" He kickeed the ground in frustration.
"Andy." A hand settled on his forearm, fingers closing around his arm when he tried to pull away. "Andy, you are right. This situation is frustrating, but your behaviour isn't making it any better."
He let himself fall back into to seat and closed his eyes letting out a frustrated groan. She was right, but he was so annoyed and he felt like hitting a wall or at least shouting to get rid of some of the pent up frustration. Sharon was there, not saying a word, her grip on him loosening but not letting go. "Andy," she said again, her voice low and warm. He took a deep breath and shook his head. How did she do that?
"It's working again."
"What is?"
"You. I was so angry and then you talk to me and my anger just seems to evaporate."
She couldn't tell where he was going with this. Was this another attempt to get her forgiveness?
"I know it didn't seem like that the last times we met, but it's working again. Just being with you is making me feel calmer." He could see the confusion she was trying to hide. "Dammit, you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Let me try and explain what I mean when I say it's working again. Being with you is making me feel calm. I know it might not seem like it, but since I got sober I actually started seeking you out whenever I was angry because with you I felt calm. There was … there is something about your presence that makes me feel safe. Even if I was screaming, even if I wanted to bang my head against a wall, being with you calmed me. I took the longest time to admit that to myself, and I'd deny it if anyone ever asked me, but I didn't come to your office to fight. I came because it was the only place I felt understood, the only place where I didn't feel like my anger was eating me alive. When I found out that Ricky was our son for a while you just made me angry, but it's back: being with you makes me feel safe again."
He stopped his rambling confession concerned at how far it had gone. He had meant to tell her about this at some point, but maybe being stranded in a plane with no possibility for her to get away wasn't the best place to do this. Still, the words had just flown from his heart and once he had started, he hadn't been able to stop. She was squeezing his arm now and the touch made him look up tentatively: her face was open and friendly, he could see curiosity there and something else. Andy watched mesmerised by the feelings playing on her face. For once he felt that she wasn't censoring herself around him and the emotions were overwhelming. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this moment, but he committed it to memory.
"I know."
Two words spoken quietly. Two eyes holding him captive.
"I raised your son, Andy, and I saw first hand how his temper worked. You're not so different from him when you get angry. Ever since Ricky's been small I've held him when he struggled, I've dried his tears and helped him fix what he broke. I spent years attending counselling sessions to find out how best to support him, to help him find other outlets for his emotions." She shook her head reminded of the small boy with his father's eyes and his father's fiery temper who had pummelled her with his tiny fists when things didn't go the way he had planned them.
Andy's heart melted "You did all that for Ricky? You went to a therapist to help him deal with his temper?"
"I had to, Andy, if he hadn't found an outlet he would have become a very troubled child." Like his father, but she didn't need to add that.
"You fought for him."
"Of course I did, I am his mother!"
"And it worked. Gosh, Sharon, it really worked! I remember myself at that age, all the anger and all those feelings I didn't know how to deal with. Ricky isn't like that. He is stable in a way I never was, still ain't. I've got a horrible temper, like so many in my family. If you have it, it usually means you won't go anywhere. I have a cousin in prison, my youngest brother was in a gang. Nobody wants to become a software engineer. Nobody has grades like Ricky. Sharon, I am so grateful that you are Ricky's mom. Everything he is, everything he has achieved, that is all because of you."