Shera's Diary
Chapter 13
Revelation
By Kristen Gupton-Williams
Dear Diary,
February twenty second! It's the captain's birthday! He's flying today, but he's slated to be back home tonight around six thirty, in time for dinner. I've picked up a nice prime rib roast from the store. I'm going to make it along with some sweet potatoes, since that's his favorite. I'm also making him a cake, a chocolate one, with that really dark chocolate frosting that he prefers.
I'm sure he's going to act like the fact I even know it's his birthday annoys him, but I think deep down, he'll appreciate the gesture. I picked him up a small gift, too. It's nothing big. I just happened to notice that his work gloves were getting quite worn so I purchased a new pair.
Oh, and lastly, I got a case of that particular beer, Condor Gold, that he loves. It's hard to get it way out here in Rocket, but with the help of Mike, the bartender, I was able to pull a few strings and get some shipped to us.
I'm very excited!
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Dear Diary,
As I figured, the captain acted upset when he came home tonight, but once he took off his coat and then came into the kitchen, he absolutely melted. His eyes scanned the table, seeing that I'd made his very favorites and I immediately handed him a bottle of beer.
"Well, I'll be damned, Shera…" he said, going over and sitting down before drinking a bit. "This… this looks real good."
"I'm glad you're pleased." With that, I sat across from him and we had dinner.
That man can sure eat a lot! He had five beers by the time he had finished dinner and then had another two as he worked on three pieces of cake.
Obviously feeling what he'd drank, he left the kitchen after a while and went out to the couch, taking yet another bottle with him. I then got his present and handed it over, sitting next to him.
The captain tore away the paper and opened the box. "Well hey, lookie there."
I smiled and watched as he put the gloves on. "Do they fit all right?"
"Just dandy," he said with a small laugh, before taking them off and setting them on the coffee table again. "This was all real nice of ya."
I felt a blush upon my cheeks. "You deserve it, Captain."
He poured the remainder of that eighth beer down his throat and then let the bottle hit the floor in front of the couch since reaching back to the coffee table seemed to be past his ability at that point. He fumbled for a moment, but managed to get a cigarette lit and to his lips. "Naw… you know what? I don't deserve shit…"
I've been living in this house now for nearly six months and although I've seen the captain drink here and there, this was the first time I'd ever seen him legitimately drunk. The expression on his face was relaxed, more so than I'd witnessed prior. The defensive wall he normally maintained wasn't just weakened, but it was honestly gone.
"I think you do," I said back quietly.
I know it was the alcohol, I have no illusions otherwise, but he draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in tightly against his side. Spawned by inebriation or not, I embraced the moment and settled in against him, not even minding the fact that happened to be breathing smoke right onto me. I closed my eyes and just let my mind drift, feeling so very content there with him.
I felt him pull the cigarette from his mouth and crush it down into the ashtray that forever sits on the arm of the couch. "Shera…"
I opened my eyes and looked up at him, wondering if I'd really heard his voice or if it had been my imagination.
He was looking down at me, his expression warm, his eyes only half open but shining with something I'd not seen before. "You… you know, you've sure put up with a lot from me…"
"You've been nothing but wonderful, Captain." There was a warmth creeping up within me, one that I wasn't really familiar with.
"You have…" he whispered, leaning a little closer to me.
I felt myself flush again, and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I wondered if he was going to kiss me… I'd never been kissed before. I just looked back at him, probably looking a little scared.
His arm that wasn't around my shoulders moved, and his hand came up and touched my cheek.
I started to tremble.
The captain smirked faintly and then closed his eyes.
I did as well and within a few seconds, I felt his lips against mine lightly.
If time could only have stopped in that moment…
…but it didn't.
The kiss was short and sweet, his lips just against mine for a moment before he shifted and slumped forward just a little more, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Shera, I…"
"Yes, Captain?" I asked, such a hope within me.
"…I'm really fucked up… I need to get to bed…"
Pardon me here as I quote the captain, but Goddamnit all to hell! I cursed inwardly, that hope thusly quelled. "Then let's get you to bed."
With that, we both managed to get up from the couch and I walked down the hall, with the captain leaning on me for support.
Now, I've never been in his room in all the time I've been living here. This was an exceptional circumstance, though, I figured. I reached out, opened the door, and flipped on the light.
Captain Highwind instantly brought up his left arm and covered his eyes, the sudden brightness seeming to get to him. I helped him sit on the edge of his unmade bed and then I turned on his bedside lamp, before turning the main light off.
This seemed to suit him better and he sat there and pulled off his shirt.
I didn't want to be rude and watch him undress, so I turned away and just scanned the room around me. The walls in his room have the same dark wood paneling as much of the rest of the house. His bed sheets and comforter were blue, I'd noticed before looking elsewhere. There was a small nightstand that held the lamp I'd turned on. The master bath was on the left side of the room.
I couldn't help but notice the long spear hanging on the wall over his dresser. "That's quite a weapon."
He grunted, still struggling with his clothes. "My granddaddy's…"
"Is that so?" I asked, intrigued.
"Yeah… Goddamned boots won't fuckin'… He was a dragoon. Rode dragons, all that shit." With that, I heard him shift around on the bed. "I ain't naked, for the record, you can look."
I laughed at myself and turned to face him again, seeing that he was stripped down to his boxers. The scar from the knife wound months ago still visible on his upper chest. "Is there anything that I can get you?"
He nodded before flopping back drunkenly. "Yeah… how 'bout a glass've water and some aspirin. I don't need no fuckin' hangover tomorrow. In the medicine cabinet over my sink…"
I offered him a nod, even though he was laying with his eyes closed, before turning and going into his bathroom. I disregarded the towels that he'd just dropped on the floor and made my way to the cabinet over his sink. I opened it and scanned the assorted things within for the requested aspirin. I found them in short order and prepared to close the door, but then something caught my eye.
I reached in and dared to turn the prescription bottle around that sat on the lower shelf, wondering what he could be on since I'd never known him to go to the doctor or the pharmacy.
I caught my breath.
It was my sleeping pills.
The ones that had gone missing from my car's glove box so many months before.
The captain… it had been the captain who'd prevented my intended suicide.
I shook my head in slight disbelief and turned my attention to his sink, spotting a glass there, which I filled with water before returning to his side.
He was laying there, with his eyes still closed and I worried for a moment that he'd passed out, but soon his left hand rose from the bed and was held out toward me. "Gimme three of 'em…"
I opted not to mention my sleeping pills and I dumped three of the aspirin into his hand, and then passed the glass of water to him when his right hand rose as well.
The captain sat up, took the pills, drank the water and then handed me back the glass, that I just sat on the nightstand.
"Is there anything else, Captain?" I asked.
"Naw… I'm good," he grumbled back, rolling over onto his side and facing away from me. "I'm just gonna sleep."
I smiled and turned off his lamp, then making my way toward his door. "Goodnight, Captain."
"G'night, Shera," I heard him say back. "And, uh, thanks for all this tonight…"
"No problem, Sir," I replied, my smile growing as I pulled the door closed behind me.
Happy Twenty-Ninth Birthday, Captain Highwind.
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Dear Diary,
My goodness, I forget about this diary anymore for such long tracts of time. I suppose it's because months go by without much change in our daily routine that we've settled into. Plus, with as busy as we've been with the charter business, I just haven't had much time.
I've read what I wrote last time, and it was months ago.
Today is the anniversary of the launch failure.
Being
Wednesday, the captain wasn't flying and I noticed from the moment
that he got up, that he seemed more withdrawn than normal.
I
served him his morning tea and breakfast, which he took without
anything said to me at all. If there is ever a day he's going to
be reminded of what I did to ruin his life, though, this is it and I
didn't blame him for ignoring me.
After breakfast, he disappeared out of the house for several hours. At first, I didn't bother to try and find out where he was and I just stayed at the desk in the family room working on the businesses' paperwork. When he failed to come back in for his noon tea, though, I grew concerned and stepped outside.
I walked around for a while, before I spotted him sitting out on the launch pad, smoking a cigarette, staring up at his rocket. I suspected that's where he'd been all day. I felt that I should leave him be to reflect, but he looked over toward me and seemed to want me to come closer.
I approached him and he patted the ground next to where he sat, indicating that he wanted me there. I sat and looked up at the rocket as he was doing.
"It's been a year already," he said, almost in a whisper.
"That it has."
He turned his head and looked at me, plucking the cigarette from his lips. "Why?"
I looked at him as well. "Why what, Sir?"
"What was it? Tell me, tell me what it was that you were so fuckin' obsessed with… What was it that kept you in that engine room, ready to die?" His gaze didn't waver in the least, his expression entirely serious.
I've never broached the subject with the captain. I'd never felt that he wanted to know. This was my chance to redeem myself, perhaps. "Do you remember when I told you that I thought there was something wrong with those oxygen tanks?"
He nodded slightly, his jaw tensing.
"Well, despite the fact that you ordered me to leave them be, I didn't. I kept thinking about them, studying the plans, trying my best to figure out what it was that was wrong."
He just nodded again.
I looked down at the ground before me. "On the launch day, I went into that engine room, to check those tanks again. It turns out that the plans were wrong. The number eight tank was over pressurized. The plans had stated for all the tanks to be built to hold 1500psi, but the eight tank, the one for the environmental systems… it was filled to the standard 2100."
One of his eyebrows quirked.
"I decided that I would open the valve on that tank and drain it down to under 1500, so that it wouldn't explode." I felt myself flush red. "If it had blown up, it would have severely damaged the rocket and caused it to fail structurally, or, you simply would have suffocated once out of the atmosphere without it to keep pushing oxygen into the flight capsule."
"You were ready to let yourself be killed?" he asked, his eyes still upon me.
"It was either my life or yours, I felt. I knew it was too late for me to get out by the time I figured out what was really wrong with the tanks, so what else was there for me to do other than to at least make sure that the rocket was going to work for you?" I looked back up at him.
"And you thought that even with you in there, doomed to death, that I would launch anyway?" He took a long drag from his cigarette, awaiting my answer.
"I wanted you to go anyway. It was your dream, and I'm the one that had failed to make sure that the rocket was perfect for you, just like you'd asked me to." My voice wavered in my regret.
"You had to know that I wouldn't have launched, though, with you in there," he said flatly.
"Perhaps, but if I'd tried to just tell you what was wrong with the tank without staying to just try and correct the problem, Captain, you know very well that you would have blown me off and launched." I sighed deeply. "As such, you would have died, and I would have carried the burden of your death."
The captain's eyes fell away from me, and he looked over at the rocket. "You're right."
I just watched him.
"I would have gone. I wouldn't have heeded your warnin' about the damn tank, and I would have launched." He flicked his cigarette off into the distance. "I'd be dead."
"I wouldn't have been able to live with that," I confessed.
"That day, a year ago, I would have told ya that havin' died in that rocket would've been better'n livin' with the shame or disappointment that I ended up facin', Shera." His eyes closed, and his head was slowly hung.
I couldn't help but ask. "…and what would you say now?"
He huffed and then opened his eyes, turning his gaze to me. "I'd say I was a Goddamned fool then."
"I'm glad you've found something worth living for, then," I replied, giving him a smile.
With that, the captain simply got up, patted my shoulder and walked away.
I wish I knew what he'd found worth living for.
I wish it was me.