Reality Check 8

This story is a departure from my earlier submissions, in that it is both quite a bit longer, and attempts to explore the hurts of married life and the darker issues of mental health. I am sure that some of you may feel that I have created excuses for simple bad behavior, but the seeming incongruities are all too real. Thank you and I hope you can enjoy or perhaps relate to the issues shared here.

Reality Check

Chapter 1

- Thursday Morning - October 19, 2000

The road was already wet where the early morning sun had melted the light frost that had accumulated over night, but in the patches shaded by roadside trees the white tinge in the grasses confirmed the slight glaze on the road, making the drive somewhat treacherous. Troy Matheson took his time, knowing that his Cessna wouldn't be fuelled and ready until the two De Havilland Beavers were loaded anyway.

His two hired pilots would take the big planes out while he flew the Cessna. He could have taken any of them, but the old 185 was still his sentimental favourite. It had been his first floatplane, and she had served him well over the years he had owned her. As he drove the three miles in an arc to the float plane base that was less than a mile as the crow flies from his home, he allowed his mind to drift to the joys of running a business that let him do what he loved, flying in the exacting conditions of the Canadian north. As a young man he had tried the prestigious arena of flying corporate jets, but the lure of the bush was stronger. He and his new bride, Norma, had sold everything they could, borrowed against what was left, and plunked down a hefty deposit on a used 185 Cessna on floats that came with a charter operation on the verge of bankruptcy. That had been seventeen years ago, but Troy still loved what he did and couldn't imagine doing anything else. With hard work and frugal planning he had built the business to four aircraft, two hangers, and a manageable bank loan. Three of the planes were currently on floats for the summer, with only the Piper Navajo on wheels. In a few weeks the first of the two Beaver float planes would be parked for the winter, by Christmas his 185 would revert to skis, and the Navajo would get busy doing mostly Native Reservation runs.

It had been tough going in the early years, but slowly and prudently he had built up a client base among the fishing and hunting lodges that were his mainstay. Added to that were contracts with miners, rice harvesters, and occasionally flights for Natural Resources or the RCMP. The Native Bands hired him to take people in and out of remote reserves as well, but he had learned over time which Bands paid their bills, and which didn't. It was OK getting paid in moose meat or walleye once in a while, but it was hard to fuel a plane with fish fillets.

This morning Troy was having some difficulty remaining focused on the business. He was still fixated on his latest argument with Norma. The thing was, they had a good marriage, at least most of the time, but Norma had started going to church nearly three years ago, shortly after that new pastor and his wife had moved in from down south, and it had increasingly becoming the central focus of her life. He had some huge issues with that because the changes in her had left them emotionally estranged, which he blamed on her change of priorities. Norma had begun to pull away from him and he felt she thought he wasn't good enough anymore. Her religion sometimes seemed to be a good excuse to just disrespect him and their marriage. Still, if it was just her need for God he could live with it, at least if it was what she really wanted for herself, but she was quietly determined to see him join her in her faith and he was not interested in going there. She had the kids going to Sunday school and mid-week programs, and they seemed to enjoy it, so that was alright. The activities certainly did help to keep them out of trouble, but the religion thing coloured everything in their lives. They didn't go out dancing anymore, she frowned at him for having a drink in the evening, and Norma had found a new set of friends that shared her faith, but left him out in the cold. A couple of the husbands had made overtures but Troy mostly ended up politely walking away because he felt acutely like a project.

This morning there had been a little note on the bathroom vanity, letting him know that God loved him and that she loved him too, and was praying for him. He didn't need her prayers, he needed his wife back! Troy wanted to believe Norma meant well for the most part. She really believed he needed a relationship with God to save his soul, but the whole thing was becoming like white noise, like the constant drone of an aircraft engine that eventually bored into your head, leaving you dulled to everything around you. Actually, the plane's engine was much easier to take in the long run, because you naturally learned to tune it out, only hearing the anomalies! It was the implied disrespect he felt that rankled. His views, his values, his world view were simply no longer valid. Her beliefs were the truth, his were the road to hell.

Rolling onto the gravel parking lot Troy saw that the first big single engine Beaver was already being loaded. It was taking supplies to an outfitter's camp, getting ready for the peak of Moose hunting season. On the way back it would pick up the last fishing party coming out of the Tadoule Lake system this year. The second Beaver, meanwhile was at the fuel pumps, getting ready for a flight to haul four goose hunters and their gear into a remote camp on Duck Lake. They would be in for five days and Phil would spend that time hauling a few loads of fish out of a commercial fishing camp into Thompson. No one liked flying the fish trips, as the cabin was a stinky mess from the slimy crates after a trip and you basically had to hose the plane out when you were done, but it paid well enough. Jerry, who had the newer and nicer of the Beavers, would be making sure Phil understood just where he fit in the bigger picture. Mostly it was good natured ribbing, and Phil was glad to get the hours; all young commercial pilots needed to pile up hours to get a chance to fly the big birds, and that was where Phil was headed. Jerry, on the other hand, was like Troy, he just loved the bush and had no interest in becoming a high paid, high altitude, bus driver.

As the pickup crunched to a standstill on the crushed rock of the parking lot, Troy saw Arden Karth coming out of the maintenance shop. Not only had Arden been Troy's good friend for many years, he was the brains behind keeping all of Troy's planes in the air every day, as well as everyone else's in the community. Arden was a first class aircraft mechanic, if also somewhat of a wise ass, and for the past two years, since Janice's bout with cancer, Arden had been a worry to Troy, a cause of disquiet he tried to sublimate.

"Morning, Arden. Is the 185 ready to go?"

"Just about, Troy. Got the ELT back in the tail last night, I'll just check the oil and the floats, and we're good to fly!" he responded with a sardonic grin. "At least as good as she'll be able to fly, considering the pilot. By the way, do you mind if I borrow your truck for a bit this morning? Bob took my truck down into Winnipeg to pick up the new engine for Barry's Super Cub. I just gotta run over to the airport to pick up some tools and a case of oil, and they won't all fit into the trunk of Janice's little Corolla."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to have Gardwine bring the engine up for you?"

"Yeah, and cheaper, too. But this gives the old man something to do. He'll spend a day in the city visiting Richard and Anna, and it gets him out of my hair for three days!"

"Not to mention giving Janice a break. You can't fool me! Did you at least check his breath before you gave him your truck?" Troy asked with a smile. It was common knowledge that Arden's assistant, who also happened to be his father-in-law, was plagued by a constant struggle with the bottle. Troy often wondered why Arden even kept him around, but guessed it was mostly to keep Janice from worrying about her dad. "For your sake I hope you didn't give him any money, or you won't see Bob or your truck until it's all gone."

"Naw, Janice packed him a hamper of food and coffee and Richard will keep an eye on him while he's in Winnipeg, he'll be alright, I hope." Arden smiled, but it was a tired smile, filled with doubt.

"I'll leave the keys in the truck, you just take it when you need to. How's Janice doing?"

"Waiting for results from her biopsy. Pretty antsy, can't blame her. We thought we were in the clear after the surgery two years ago. The doctors were sure they caught it early and got everything, and now, nearly two years later, a lump! She's trying to stay upbeat, but I know she's scared."

"Hang in there, old friend. Don't rush to conclusions. Let's get together for a drink in the hanger after work."

"On a Thursday? Wow, what will Norma think of that? Not even the weekend."

"You gonna tell her?" Troy asked with a small forced smile. Making a joke about his gnawing worry allowed him to camouflage his gut wrenching uncertainty.

Troy wandered over to have a visit with his two employees while Arden readied the 185. A few minutes of checking routes and expected ETA's with Phil and Jerry and Troy plunked his lean 5'10" frame down at his desk, squeezed into a tiny office in the corner of the hanger. Half an hour of paperwork would profitably use up the time he would otherwise waste visiting with Arden. Just as he was wrapping things up his sat phone beeped, and checking to see if it was Norma, he punched the line open to answer a call from a friend and sometimes client, Donald Sommers. Donald was a geologist with a camp out in the bush about a hundred miles from nowhere, just where he loved to spend his time since his wife had passed on after a long struggle with colon cancer. Donald still had a home down in Winnipeg, but last year he had stayed in the north right through the winter, living in his insulated tent out in the bush, claiming the house down south was just too full of memories he couldn't deal with.

"Donald, what can I do for you this morning?"

"Hey Troy, glad I caught you, are you flying anywhere near my camp today?"

"Well, I'm heading out in about half an hour to pick up three fishermen at the Loon Island camp, what do you need?"

"Would you have room for an extra package, say 50 pounds or so?"

"Sure, I'll just take off a bit early and swing by your camp. Can you meet me on the lake? I don't much care for your rocky shoreline with the 185's amphibious floats."

"Sure, just fly over and I'll come out in the Zodiac. Thanks, Troy, I really appreciate your help. I'll call Gerald right away and have him bring out a box of groceries from the store while you're coming out. I think I may have found some interesting ore samples to send to the assayers. Oh, and could you bring me a box of 222 shells from my foot locker? I'm running low."

"Not a problem, I should be there in less than two hours. Just tell Gerald to hustle with the groceries. I don't want to sit here waiting on him."

Troy put the phone down and thought about calling Norma to notify her of his change in flight plans. She was his official contact, and he always left his plans and schedule with her, but today he just wasn't up to the risk of restarting the argument he had fled from. He would tell Arden and leave a note in the plan book that was always on his truck seat. After all, it was only an eighty--five mile detour that would take no more than an hour at most.

A shadow across his desk had Troy looking up at Arden's bulky frame in the doorway. "The 185's ready to go when you are. Fuel is good and the oil is topped up, but she's still leaking on jug three. I put an extra quart in the travel bag, just in case. She is starting to burn a bit more too, we'll need to pull her down before this winter, Troy."

"Yeah, I know, we're almost there on hours anyway, but I just hoped to get through the fall with her first. A couple more weeks and we can park her. When Phil leaves I'll move over to his Beaver to do the Moose and Caribou hunters, while Jerry flies his. I'll want the 185 back by the time freeze up is solid though, so I can use her on skis."

"Let's put the Beaver back on skis! More practical anyway, and we did BET's engine last year, she's good for it. That way Jerry can go back to flying the Navaho off runways after freeze up and we can take our time with the 185 over winter."

"Maybe, but she's a fuel pig compared to the 185."

Troy rose and readied himself for the trip north. "Oh, by the way, Don Sommers called. He has a box of samples he wants me to pick up, so I'm going to swing by his camp on the way to the Island. Gerald's on his way with some groceries as well. I'll leave a note in the book on the truck seat to amend my plan."

"Not calling Norma?"

"Don't go there, I have enough on my mind without restarting that tirade. She's driving me crazy, Arden, and not in a good way."

"Hang in there, buddy. You'll work it out. You two have far too much going for you to crash and burn now. I have to tell you, Troy, Norma's been a big encouragement to Janice this summer. She hasn't been preaching at her, just letting her know that she isn't alone in her worries about her health and Bob's drinking. I must say, it's been good for Janice. There are times when a husband doesn't know what to say, you know?"

"Oh, do I know! Lately there's pretty much nothing I can say. She just doesn't want to hear that I liked things the way they were. Now, I'm not sure if she is married to me, or that damn church, but I sure know that I don't want to make her choose. I'm pretty much convinced I'd end up alone."

"I don't think Norma would ever leave you, Troy. The woman is crazy about you, always has been, even in the early days when the girls used to get a little wild. No, I think if she has to, Norma will chose to accept both, her church, and you as you are. She just thinks you need what she found, and that isn't so unusual, ya know. Most people who find religion feel a need to share it, after all, the way she sees it, if she is right, you're going to hell! The woman loves you and wants to save your sorry ass."

"I'm going out to get ready. I don't really want to have this discussion with you anymore than with her!" Troy looked ready to hit something, or someone.

'Hey, don't worry, I'm not trying to convert you. Who would I have left to have a drink with once in a while? I sure can't offer one to the old man!" Arden chuckled as Troy stomped outside to prepare for his flight, but once his friend's back was turned a worried and somber look wiped the grin from his face.

Troy stopped off at the truck to add the extra leg to Donald's camp into his flight plan book, pick up his lunch, and grab a heavy jacket. Flying in the north had taught Troy to be meticulous about everything he did, which, in truth, suited his nature anyway. He He was a details guy by habit, and it seemed that although he was forever planning the big stuff, his inclination was checking and rechecking the little stuff. It was the details that would kill you if you weren't careful. It was something he constantly berated his pilots about, and he wouldn't keep anyone around who disregarded safety checks and communications.

Arden watched Troy from inside the hanger, smiling sadly as Troy pulled out the siphon to check for water in the floats, even though he had surely seen Arden check them only half an hour ago. Despite his assurances to the contrary, he was worried about his friend and his marriage. Norma had really taken the bit between her teeth when it came to this Christianity stuff, and while Troy was a good friend, Arden knew just how stubborn and single minded he could be. Troy knew what he wanted, and he liked things to be the way he wanted them to be. Changing things, especially the relationship he had with Norma, was not going to come easily, and Arden wondered if Troy would simply walk away in frustration. He was pretty sure it wouldn't be Norma who called it quits, although he knew first hand just how frustrated Troy's wife was. At least he sure hoped she wouldn't. If she did it would probably lead to bad complications in his life too, and he really didn't want to contemplate that.

Troy finished his pre-flight just as Gerald rolled up from the grocery store. He stowed the box of food for Donald and climbed into the cabin. A few minutes later the engine fired up and Arden untied the plane, pushing the pontoon away from the dock in the process. The 185 taxied out into the bay and soon the sound of the engine increasing in tempo was all Arden could hear.

In the cabin of the Cessna Troy waited as the pontoons began to skim the water, watching the air speed indicator for the right moment to increase the pressure on the yolk. With very little wind, the river was nearly calm, which made for a longer run before the plane would lift off, but there was plenty of room on the big bay and before long the nose came up, taking Troy back to the freedom of the skies he loved, and releasing him, at least temporarily, from the troubles back at home.

. . .

Standing at the kitchen sink, Norma looked up just as the 185 banked over the distant trees. Though it was pretty cool out in the early morning, she had the kitchen window open to listen for the familiar sound of the three hundred horse Continental engine. She had heard the Beavers take off earlier, but she knew Troy would be in the Cessna, and she wanted, as usual, to hear him take off. She uttered a quick prayer for his safety and for his forgiveness, because she knew she had vexed him again this morning. She didn't mean to do it, and her pastor had advised her to give him time and room, but she just wanted so badly for him to see what she was experiencing, and to trust God with his life that she found it hard to leave alone. Yet, she worried that Troy was becoming somewhat distant at times, withdrawing from both her and the girls. She knew he loved her, but prayed that he would come around and realize that what she had found was something he could accept and embrace too. Troy was so stubborn, sometimes she wondered if he didn't love that darn plane more than her.

Tucking a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, she looked up at the clock as she closed the window. Time to get the girls ready for school.

"Lois, Brittany, time to get moving. Are you dressed and combed? We have to leave in five minutes if we aren't going to be late." If everything went well, Norma thought, she might have time to stop off and have coffee with her friend Shelby this morning. She wasn't scheduled to be at the restaurant until eleven, and Shelby, stuck at home with a three year old, always loved the company.

The girls filed into the kitchen looking like they were actually trying to get along for a change. That would be such a nice way to start the day, rather than with the usual squabbles over anything they could focus on for long enough to disagree vehemently about. Having a fifteen year old and a twelve year old in one house seemed at times to be a sure fired formula for a hormonally driven civil war. She often wondered how her mother had coped with her and her two sisters when they were teens. Norma smiled at her two girls and offered up a quick prayer of thanks as she ushered them out the door.

. . .

Levelling off at 2200 feet on the altimeter gave Troy fifteen hundred feet AGL, which was a comfortable cruising altitude for the short forty minute flight to Donald Sommers' base camp. Locking the autopilot in at 300 degrees, he did a quick radio check to make sure both Phil and Jerry were on frequency. He listened to their banter for a few minutes, but didn't bother to interrupt. He was really in more of a mood for silence anyways, the depression about his quietly failing marriage occupying his thoughts.