“And you’re not like a psycho or something?”
Dennis shook his head. “No. Promise. I don’t want to hurt her. My dad just died, and I just … I don’t have anyone else. I have no family.”
A glimmer of pity flickered across Aaron’s face. “Wait here.” He went inside and the loud fighting began again. Ten minutes later, he emerged, dressed in board shorts and a tight T-shirt. He is undoubtedly cool, thought Dennis, filled with envy. He had never quite figured out how to be cool. Aaron walked over to his car. “Get in.”
Dennis rode silently with Aaron as they drove into Augusta. Along the way he started noticing signs for the airport. He cast his eyes downward. “I can’t afford a plane ticket, dude,” he mumbled, looking down.
Aaron kept his eyes on the road. “I figured. Here.” He dug into his pocket and handed Dennis five hundred-dollar bills. Dennis had never in his life seen so much money. “Buy yourself a plane ticket.” He pulled up at the airport curb.
Dennis turned to him. “Hey, um, thanks. You seem like a pretty nice guy.”
Aaron ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not. But this is one last thing I can do to help Elly. I put her though hell. And I regret it every day.” His phone buzzed and he held up a finger as Dennis waited awkwardly outside the car door. “No, no. I’m at the studio right now. I won’t be home for dinner because I’m working late. Calm down. Lucia, I said calm down or I’m not talking to you. Yeah, I’ll bring a bottle home. Okay, love you too.” He gave Dennis a devilish grin.
Dennis frowned. “But … you aren’t at the studio.”
“Nope, I’m not. But my studio is downtown and I need some time to kill.” He raised his eyebrows. “My girlfriend lives on the other side of town. Not kidding, she could be a Victoria’s Secret model. And she’s Puerto Rican.”
Dennis looked at him with amazement. Aaron gave him a sad smile. “See, I told you I’m not a very nice guy. Anyways, good luck, buddy. You’ll be lucky to have Elly as a sister, promise.” A wistful look passed over his face before he gave Dennis a thumbs-up. Dennis stepped back from the curb and Aaron Schuster’s shiny car vanished into the airport traffic. At the counter, a sympathetic clerk at the Continental desk helped Dennis find a flight. He reluctantly handed over a wad of money—and felt a slight panic that he now only had one hundred and twenty-eight dollars left. Dennis had to wait an additional seven hours for a plane. Time passed slowly. He stared at the passengers, wondering if he could best them in a Warhammer contest. He changed his jeans and underwear in the airport bathroom, splashed some water on his face and combed through his hair. He wandered through the magazine stores and after much consideration, bought an awesome T-shirt (a happy face with a bullet through its head) and a Kit Kat. Then he had even less money. As Dennis stumbled his way through the terrifying security procedures, he could feel his nerves becoming like stone—ready to break at the slightest crack. He sat in his tiny seat and struggled to buckle the seatbelt. The plane bucked under him, and he was flung like a slingshot into the empty air. Dennis sat frozen and thrilled as the world became so small underneath him, his heart feeling like it would burst from his chest. It was his first plane ride. After the seatbelt sign turned off, as he unsteadily walked to the bathroom, he caught his foot on someone’s bag and pitched to the ground to the sounds of muffled laughter. He picked himself up and got to the bathroom where he stared in the mirror. Large tears began rolling down his face, and Dennis Trager found himself weeping and afraid in the airplane bathroom. He wept for his father, dying alone and miserable, never the father he wanted, for his mother who had died upon impact when a semitruck ran a red light, and for himself, alone, so alone thirty-five thousand feet above the soil.
When he landed at Lambert, St. Louis, he was half-awake and semidelusional. Dennis hailed a taxi that took him to Posies on Wydown Boulevard, to the address Aaron had given him. The morning was bright and unyielding, and a migraine had cracked across his forehead. He got them often. Dennis paid the taxi and walked slowly toward the store. Something moved in the window. He jumped to the side and watched through the clear glass.