“Pull up! Pull up!”
A giant green arrow flashed across the video. It acted as a forewarning of the jet’s impending impact. My entire body shuddered as adrenaline thrust through my veins.
I wanted to choke the aloofness from her tone. To the jet’s warning system it was just another jet. To me, it was my world coming to an end. She may as well have tacked the word ‘idiot’ onto her feeble attempt of a warning.
The military Humvees scrambled on the screen like cockroaches escaping the light. I was paralyzed. I couldn’t do anything to prevent it from happening then. Why did I still hope I could stop it now?
“Pull up!”
I closed my eyes.
It was too late.
“Pull up!”
One.
I opened my eyes. The ground rush on the display was exactly how they described it in pilot training; the world blossomed as earth ripped through to meet you in the cockpit.
Her vacant voice instructing him to pull up was the last thing to ring out right before my life shattered. Everything exploded into a bright blinding haze on the screen with a blaring detonation. The blood cooled in my veins.
I flipped the tablet cover and traced my still trembling finger along the lines of the worn material. I had stolen the video from my father’s files the night after the funeral. I had watched it a thousand times, each time reliving the horrors of that day.
But tonight, once was enough.
Tonight, I had to figure out how the hell I was going to climb into the cockpit and fly the jet that killed my brother.
* * * *
The annual Fourth of July fireworks filled the sky right on cue. Red sparks showered down as the blue lights twirled across the backdrop of an onyx sky. It used to be our favorite family tradition.
A wave of guilt washed over me then pooled deep in the pit of my belly. How was it fair that I was standing here watching the fireworks, while Colin was buried six feet deep?
The reflection of the flashing lights off the ocean blinded me. High pitched screams and loud blasts shook the windows behind me as I leaned on the banister of my deck, watching the show, alone.
The silver ones that whistled were Colin’s favorite.
My heart pounded at the thought of my tenderhearted brother. I squeezed my eyes tightly together to try to force out tears, but nothing fell. Not a single drop. I had cried so much that I had become numb to the pain.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket, interrupting the fireworks display. The ringtone of magical chimes followed. I sighed loudly. This was not a call I wanted to take.
Ignoring my mom wouldn’t make her go away. It would only make her more determined. It was like she had a beacon implanted in my brain to know when I was thinking about my Colin’s accident. I pulled my phone from the back pocket of my cutoff jeans and growled.
Pink 1 flashed across the screen.
My thumb hovered over the ‘Off’ button, but I couldn’t bring myself to press it. She would know that I had dismissed her call. My mother knew everything, except when I didn’t want to talk, or maybe she knew, but that still wouldn’t stop her until she ‘heard my voice’. It had gotten even worse since Colin’s death.
A chime alerted the arrival of a new text message.
I forced myself to look at the screen and read the words;
He loved you.
I let out a long drawn out breath. Her words were always the same.
I picked up the bottle of sweet brown lager and gulped it. All of it. I reached for another. I twisted off the lid, and spun the tiny metal cap across the deck.
I wanted to feel Colin’s pain and grief for a life he’d never have. But I couldn’t shed any more tears. I was empty. Broken. There was nothing left of me. The only thing that kept me putting one foot in front of the other was the determination to prove that his death was not due to pilot error. I would prove it, or die trying.
The phone buzzed again.
Pink 1.
I swallowed another drink before I surrendered and answered the call. “Hey, Mom,” I said, my voice higher than usual in a failed attempt to mask my misery.
“You okay?” she asked with her usual cautious tone.
“Yeah, I’m great. I’m heading to Krusty’s for dinner,” I lied. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
“I wanted to hear your voice, sweetie, and wish you luck.”
Luck? I needed a helluva lot more than luck. Tomorrow, I started training to fly the jet that cremated my brother.
“Thanks, I’m excited,” I said as another lie slipped off my tongue.
It was becoming easier to fib to my mother. They just popped out one after another. I was never dishonest as a child, but now it felt like I never told anyone the truth.
“I’m looking forward to getting started.” The words sounded sweet, but I’d need another lager to wash out the bitter taste. So much for being a pillar of honesty.
“Oh, Tinklee, you are such a liar,” my mother said. “I know you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be? I’ll be there, in spirit, and so will he.”
Her voice was warm and tender, as if she were smiling through her tears. She sniffled loudly. She was okay with her tears.
“Okay, I’m losing the connection. I gotta go.”
“I can tell you don’t want to talk so I won’t keep you. I’ll see you soon. And remember sweetie, keep your circle….”
“Stop Mom, I’m twenty-two, enough with the positive affirmations.”
She ignored my plea. “If you keep your circle positive, you’ll attract good Karma.”
I rolled my eyes and held back a sigh out of respect to the woman who spent thirty-six hours in labor for me.
“Besides, age doesn’t matter. I love you, baby girl. You’ll always be my little Tinklee,” she said. Her voice danced when she emphasized ‘little’ and ‘Tinklee.’
I couldn’t help but cringe. She’d screwed me with that one.
A blond-haired, blue-eyed fighter pilot trying to make it in a man’s world couldn’t be taken seriously with the name Tinklee Pinkerton.
Good job, Mom. You rock.
Chapter 2
If only I could drown the pain. I grabbed the last bottle from the cooler and hopped the deck rail into the sand. The grains were warm, baked under the hot July sun all day and retaining the heat well past sunset. I wiggled my toes, cracked open the bottle and tossed the lid over my shoulder onto the deck.
I loved this beach almost as much as I hated it. My parents bought this house when my dad was stationed here and kept it as a vacation home when he retired from the military. My mom insisted I stay here during my training, but being here just trudged up memories of Colin and me watching the jets fly over the beach. We dreamed of the day that we’d be in the cockpit flying side-by-side. And now, like him, those dreams were buried.
My chest tightened and I stifled a short breath. I wasn’t ready for tomorrow. I was going to need something a hell of a lot stronger than the honey lagers that were going down like