Final Approach

If sibling rivalries were a video game, Louis was up against his final boss. One last push. He faced the last, immovable object.

Louis was convinced that his brother, Charles, had picked a destination wedding because he knew it would mess with him. Making Louis his best man added to the dilemma.

He had run every calculation. Plotted every scenario. Created multiple spreadsheets, each more damning than the last. And added up the costs. He wouldn’t get there.

So he selected the number from his phone contacts. Pressed the telephone icon. The dial tone began. Every trill added five beats to his blood pressure. Perhaps they knew what he was going to say. The wait for them to answer felt interminable.

They answered simply.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I am going to say yet,” he replied.

“I absolutely do, Louis Glenn Wright. The answer is no.”

“I have spent three days researching this with Google. Looking into ferries and even yachts. I’ve plotted it on an atlas. I won’t be able to get there.”

Louis was a functioning adult. A high flyer in his industry, ironically. He had taken long drives. Overnight sleeper trains. Ferries.

But Terceira Island was too much. Nearly 1200km off of the coast of Portugal. An island in the middle of the Atlantic. Positioned, it seemed to Louis, with personal and specific malice.

Because Charles knew that Louis would not fly. Under any circumstances. And that was the genius of his imminent defeat.

Because the final boss was their mother.

“It’s a volcanic island,” he replied. He was desperate now.

“There hasn’t been an eruption since 1761,” she said.

He should have guessed that she would look this up. She continued.

“I drove you wherever you wanted. Through the day and night. Summer and winter. Short and long distances. Now this must stop.”

“Louis, get on that plane.”

And so he had. Praying for any sort of delay. A merciful act of God. A mechanical failure. A substantial change in the weather or climate. Or even the pilot discovering he had won the lottery and quit there and then.

He trudged to the gate, defeated. Over the bridge. Slumped into Seat 32F. Right at the very back. Next to the crew, where he thought it safest. He had not mentioned this to his mother. She would only have looked it up.

—

The seat was somewhat uncomfortable, which did not help. But that could have been due to the six T-shirts he was wearing. In his research, Louis had read that the cabin gets cold. So he over prepared. At least if they fell out of the sky, he had a little more bounce.

There was no recline to his seat. Being at the back, it was pressed up against the toilet. He was now the self-appointed toilet monitor. He tracked every flush. Every unwashed hand. Every click of the bolt. Sleep was a fantasy.

It had already started. Every five minutes a thwack as the door closed and click as it locked. Thwack. Click. Thwack. No click. Then a click.

He looked through the in-flight entertainment. He scrolled through the television section. The first film came up - Con Air. Where they crash land a jet on the Las Vegas strip. Louis did not appreciate the irony of that editorial choice.

This was the second worst day of his life. He had not flown in thirty years. Not since Dad flew to Chicago. That was the worst.

The announcement came over the tannoy from the pilot. His reassuring voice did at least help. It seemed somewhat familiar, perhaps his anxiety played tricks on him. Passengers were asked to find their seats for departure.

The cabin crew came through the aisle. They checked seatbelts, put up tables. Louis had already done his. He didn’t want to lose a leg in the event of a rough take off.

Mercifully there was no one in the seat next to him. But there was a toddler in front. Its mother was fussing with the packet stuck to the front of his colourful magazine. She gave the boy the toy and his dread increased.

What kind of person gives a toddler a kazoo on a nine hour flight? A sadist, that’s who. The child turned around, looked at Louis and blew it.

The cabin crew completed their checks and went into the galley at the back to get strapped in themselves. Amelia and Ruth. Ruth was the older of the two, slightly more authoritative. Amelia was shorter and younger.

For all his stress. This was just Tuesday to them. Ruth picked up a book of puzzles and a pencil. Amelia had gone for a protein milkshake. She screwed the cap off. But she tried, unsuccessfully, to pull off the protective plastic cap underneath.

The plane taxied towards the runway to begin its ascent. A metal tube, hurtling towards the sky at 184 miles per hour. 200,000 litres of jet fuel. His decision to sit at the back aided by the discovery that much of it was in the middle and in the wings. And a child with a kazoo.

Ruth was struggling with a crossword.

“Eight letters, another word for explosion,” she said out loud.

He knew the answer because of where they were flying. But couldn’t bring himself to say it. The engines roared as the take off began.

“Eruption!” Amelia shouted in response.

His stomach dropped as the plane took off. Louis grabbed a sick bag just in case. Even though he hadn’t eaten that morning as a precaution.

The noise of the engines died down somewhat as they reached higher altitude. Then all of a sudden he heard a loud bang behind him.

He grabbed his arm rests harder than anything he had ever held. He sat bolt upright in his seat. His heart pounded.

He turned around to look for its source. Amelia had stabbed the lid of her protein milkshake with Ruth’s pencil.

Nine hours to go.

—

He could tell that Ruth was beginning to lose patience with him. However, the fact she kept answering his questions gave him reassurance.

So far he had ascertained where the pilot and co-pilot had achieved their Commercial Pilot Licences, how many attempts and whether they had been in any crashes. After the Captain asked Ruth to stop relaying his questions to the cockpit, he changed to the cabin crew’s experience.

“By virtue of the fact we are still here, no, I haven’t been in any crashes either,” she replied, with a gentle American twang in her accent.

At long last, he took the hint. He said thank you and she walked away towards the front of the plane. As she moved, the plane gave a surprising shake, which was unsettling.

He returned to his coping strategy. Having blocked much of the noise out, and some of the kazoo, with classical music, his laminated sheet of breathing exercises and a book, he noticed he had nearly run out of Jelly Babies already. And granola bars.

He thought it best to bring his own food, given the widespread food poisoning caused by the fish in the film Airplane! A decision backed up by spotting salmon on the in flight menu. He topped up his haul with some Pringles from the trolley service, but thankfully he didn’t have to stab it to get it open.

Another judder from the plane and the child in the seat in front woke. People started to look around at each other. The Captain came on to the tannoy.

“Please be assured, just a little turbulence. A few moments and we should be through it and on our way to clearer skies.”

The next shake was a little rougher. The toilet door behind him closed with a thwack as its occupant returned quickly to their seat. Passengers began to murmur as the plane shook again. The Captain’s voice returned.

“Please can everyone return to their seats. The seatbelt signs are on so please buckle in for a moment.”

Everyone did as they were told. Amelia and Ruth went through into the aisle to check. Amelia strapped herself in in the galley and Ruth stopped to check on Louis.

“It’s going to be fine,” she said.

Everyone was then taken by surprise by the most violent jolts yet. A sustained period of turbulence. Ruth was caught off balance and fell, twisting her ankle as she went down and bumping her head on the seat.

Amelia hadn’t seen it. Ruth was slow to move. As he was at the back, no one else could see what happened, so did not move to help. He knew he had to do something. He had no idea how he managed to do what he did next.

He unbuckled his belt. He got up slowly and went to Ruth’s side. He helped her up as the plane shook and took her to her seat in the back. Amelia got out of her seat and helped her get in and sat back down.

Still being shaken around on his feet, he saw Ruth mouth a silent thank you and returned to his seat. Everything around him seemed blurry as he did so, as if something had slowed everything down.

He sat down and buckled back in. He snapped out of his daze.

What the hell did I just do?

He grabbed back on to the arm rests as the child in front started to cry. Louis tentatively offered him his last Jelly Baby; a grateful nod from his mother.

But shortly after, it all stopped, the plane gliding smoothly again at 550mph. He breathed out, and removed his shoulders from underneath his ears.

—

As the plane came into land, Louis still braced for impact. Despite his recent act of bravery. He knew he was still strapped to several thousand litres of jet fuel. And they were pointing towards the ground.

Everyone had strapped in. He could hear Ruth and Amelia discussing the crossword.

“Ten letters, another word for cheating,” she pondered.

He tidied as many things up as he could ready to escape the metal tube. As the wheels finally touched the ground, people clapped. He had read that they do this.

As soon as the light went out, Louis was the first out of his seat. He grabbed his luggage and darted for the exit.

He reached the door to be met by Amelia and Ruth, who both offered him words of thanks. Ruth stood slightly off one foot to keep the weight off. The ankle must be sore. She held on to the door handle to keep upright.

“Infidelity,” he then blurted out.

“Excuse me,” asked Ruth.

“Another word for cheating,” he replied.

He made his way off the plane, eventually reaching the welcome party in the terminal. His brother was there with a massive grin. As was his mother.

Charles gave Louis a big hug.

“I hate you,” Louis said.

“Sorry, bro, the village church wasn’t available,” Charles replied.

He gave his mother a hug as well. Checked he still had his passport for the thousandth time. A voice came from behind him.

“Sorry for the choppy ride, son.”

He recognised the voice straight away. Louis understood why it had been familiar. He turned around. Stood behind him in a pilot’s uniform, Douglas, the father he hadn’t seen for thirty years. And the voice on the tannoy.

Charles walked over and gave him a hug. A polite nod was all he got from their mother, Carolyn.

“Good to see the Wright brothers together again,” said Douglas.

Louis was shocked. He had so many questions. His brother was first.

“When? How? Why are you talking to him?” he asked.

“I reached out about two years ago after the engagement. Felt right to bring the whole family back together.” Charles said.

“And what about you?” he challenged his mother.

“I gave him my blessing,” Carolyn replied.

But that wasn’t all. Behind Douglas, he could see Ruth walking towards them. She walked up to Douglas and she kissed him on the cheek.

“Charles told me which flight you were on. I requested the route,” Douglas said. “And I know you two have already met.”

“My hero,” Ruth exclaimed.

Louis’ head was swimming. Thirty years catching up with him in thirty seconds. He turned back to Charles and Carolyn.

“Ruth is the reason your father went to Chicago,” Carolyn said.

Charles was enjoying this a little too much. He put a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“Don’t worry, bro, you get to fly home again in a couple of days,” Charles said, the grin returning.

And it dawned on him. Another nine hour flight in just three days. He willed the volcano to consume him.

If sibling rivalries were a video game, Louis was truly up against his final boss now. It wasn’t his mother.

It was his brother.