“What state are we over now?” Maisie asked when the plane found a smoother path.
Patrick loosened his seat belt to peer out the window again; all the Western states had the same topography, ropy mountain ranges that snaked like macramé, and bland 1970s color. “I’m not really sure. I think we passed most of the square ones. New Mexico?” He settled back in his seat and tightened his belt before he could get in trouble. “Have you ever been to New Mexico? The whole state is one giant flea market for turquoise jewelry. I went years ago on some sort of men’s retreat and was chased to the Arizona state line by a diner hostess named Luna with a thick mop of red hair and an angry toe for daring to ask what a Kokopelli was and why they all seemed to have scoliosis. I mean, do you guys know?”
Silence.
“Okay, well, we won’t call that a hard-and-fast Guncle Rule, but don’t go to New Mexico if you can avoid it.” How long is this flight? Shouldn’t they be starting their descent? It was the stupid headwinds. Flying west always took an hour longer. Patrick drummed his fingers on the armrest. He reached up to open the air vent above him and pulled his shirt away from his body so he could feel the air wash down his chest. “Anyone know any good jokes?”
Nothing.
He fiddled with his own screen to see about ordering some snacks.
“You said there was no Wi-Fi.”
“Maisie, I’m looking at snacks. You don’t need Wi-Fi for that. Would you like a snack? How about these veggie crisps?”
Out of nowhere, Grant screamed. The kind of deep, anguished, shrieking that wins Viola Davis Oscars, and then Maisie started in, too, more frightened by her brother than from any pain of her own. Patrick’s heart wrenched.
“Okay, guys, guys, we don’t have to eat veggie crisps. They’re not really vegetables, just bullshit potato chips. But we can literally eat anything else.” He tried to swivel the screen so they could see, but it only tilted up and down.
Grant’s inconsolable screaming continued unabated, much of it straight out of a horror film. That it was so out of the blue made it as terrifying as it was physically painful to the eardrums; Patrick had no idea a child could make such a primal sound.
“Are you hurt? WHAT IS HAPPENING?” He looked over his shoulder several times for help but only to be met with angry passengers staring back at him, so he pulled his ball cap down farther over his eyes as sheer panic took hold.
“MY TOOF!” Grant covered his mouth in horror.
“Okay! Okay! Calm down.” Not knowing what to do, he unbuckled all three of their seat belts, grabbed Grant’s hand, and pulled him into the aisle. He took two steps toward the restroom with the boy in tow before realizing he forgot Maisie; he reached back until he found her hand, too. Patrick ran them toward the bathroom at the rear of the plane, ignoring the flight attendant near the exit rows calling after them.
“Sir! Sir! The fasten seat belt sign . . .”
He folded open the bathroom door with such force he was surprised he didn’t shear it clean off its rails. He stood Grant on the closed toilet lid and yanked Maisie inside, closing the door behind them. It was tight; Maisie was pressed against his leg. He hugged Grant close and said, “What about your tooth?” and kept repeating it until Grant’s wailing slowed to a whimper. He ran his hands through Grant’s hair and pulled his face in for closer inspection.
“It fell out!”
“Oh, well. Teeth do that. Don’t tell me this is your first.” He squeezed Grant’s mouth open and his lips puckered like a fish. Sure enough, a bottom tooth was missing—Patrick hoped it was a baby one. There was a little blood, but not much. “Maisie, grab a paper towel. And run it under some water.”
Maisie did as she was told and Patrick made note of it. Stays calm in emergencies. Grant, however, continued to cry.
“Do you know why kids even have baby teeth? I’ve always wondered that. Why don’t they just grow like the rest of your body? It’s not like your childhood nose falls off when you’re ready to grow a bigger one. Can you imagine if Grant’s arm just fell off because his adult one was coming in?”
Grant stopped sobbing long enough to exclaim, “My arm’s going to fall off?”
“And your ears. Hopefully not both at the same time or you won’t be able to hear.”
Grant screamed.
“WHAT WHAT WHAT? It’s a joke. I’m just talking out loud. I was wondering because we’re born with all of our teeth, baby and adult. Did you know that? A child’s jaw holds twice as many teeth as it needs to. It’s like how Maisie was born with all of her eggs inside of her.”
“I have eggs inside me?” Maisie’s eyes bulged.
“Yes,” Patrick said. “Dozens of them. Like a chicken. You’ll probably grow feathers. And a beak.”
Maisie frowned, clearly not fond of this. “You’re not supposed to talk to kids that way.”
“I’m not?”
“No! You’re supposed to comfort us. Don’t you know that?”
“Okay, jeez.” Patrick took the paper towel and placed the wet part along Grant’s gums. Grant instinctively reached up to hold it in place. “Why all the tears, kiddo? You have to tell GUP. I don’t understand.”
“I . . . CAN’T . . . FIND IT!” He cried so hard he gurgled between words, and tears fell off of his nose. He tried desperately to fill his chest with air, but couldn’t, and wheezed like a trauma patient whose lungs had collapsed.
So?
