Priscilla And Winston

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a true story based on my recollections of a flight from San Antonio to Boston in 1975. The flight scenes and training scenes are true. Everything else is fiction...from the imagination of an old man. Only the names have changed. There is no sex in this story.

*****

Present Day

*****

My name is Aiden Downell. I'm almost 70 now. Sometimes it's hard to admit that my best days are behind me. I've been married for 32 years to a wonderful, caring woman. We have a 30-year-old daughter.

Three months ago, my wife's mother died. My wife's surviving siblings called her to go home because, as the oldest, it was her responsibility to settle the estate and decide how all the land, businesses, and houses were to be divided amongst the family.

Two weeks ago, I received a message from my wife that she wasn't coming back. She'd decided that her family there needed her more than I did. I asked if she'd ever return. She said no and that I should petition for a divorce and move on with my life. She is better at facing cold, hard truths than I am.

That evening I sat silently in the dark. I briefly considered suicide but I'm not that weak. I called our daughter and gave her the news. She was sad but seemed less surprised by the news than I was. We talked for a while before she admitted that she'd felt for a while that when my wife's mother passed, my wife would leave us for good to take over as matriarch of the family in the far east.

To lighten the mood, my daughter called her kids to the phone to say hello to me. She had two boys: six and five. She hadn't seen her husband since the day after her second son was born. But my daughter was determined and a hard worker. She had successfully climbed the corporate ladder at a major pharmaceutical company, so she and the boys weren't suffering. I'd asked if she wanted to move back home but she had declined. Turned out she'd met a man, another manager at her company, and they were very cautiously building a friendship. She hoped the relationship would flourish.

My daughter then suggested that I set up an account on one (or more) of the available social media platforms. That way I could keep up with what she and the boys were up to. She promised they would all accept something called a 'friend request'...she had to explain it to me but it sounded reasonable.

We started to hang up after I said goodnight to each of the boys. "Dad, do me a favor?" My daughter called out.

"Yeah?"

"Don't sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You've done everything you could for Mom and me. Now it's time for you to do things for you. Take that road trip driving around the lower 48 you always talked about. Play Golf. Start flying again. Do Something for you!"

"Thanks for the pep talk Sweetie. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodnight, Dad. Please take care of yourself."

I didn't sleep very well that night. I went to bed around 2:00 AM and woke up with a start at 4:15 AM. I was scared and anxious. On automatic pilot I went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee...just what I didn't need. I looked at my phone, then went to find my glasses so I could actually see what was on the screen. I found an e-mail from my wife's younger sister. She said my wife was sad, but didn't want to speak to me anymore. She thought it would be easier for both of us if we made a clean break (my words not hers) and any further communications go through the sister.

I opened up a reply screen and quickly typed 'FUCK YOU!' But that wasn't right; so, I just as quickly erased it and instead replied, 'I Understand.' Of course, that was a lie. After that I got a dustpan and broom and cleaned up the pieces of my phone from where it had shattered against the wall.

While it was still dark I walked around the house. I knew I wouldn't stay here any longer than necessary and I needed to try to identify those things I couldn't live without.

Over the next two days I gathered all of my wife's things she'd left behind. Keeping in mind that my wife was now in the tropics, I sorted everything between two piles: stuff she might want, and cold-weather items she'd never need again. I went up to the attic and dug out three large boxes we'd planned to use to send Christmas gifts to her family. I wrote out an inventory and sealed the boxes. I called a cargo expediter and scheduled them to pick up the three boxes and put them on a ship. The winter things I bagged up to take to the Salvation Army donation box.

On the third day, I left the house for the first time. I visited a local retailer and bought a new android phone and a mid-range laptop computer. As soon as I got back to the house that I no longer considered a home, I got my old number transferred. That afternoon my phone rang. It was my daughter reporting that she hadn't seen any friend requests yet and she wondered what I was doing. I told her I was working on it.

I unboxed the computer and synced it up with my wi-fi. I searched for social media platforms as my daughter ordered; the only one I'd heard of was Facebook. So, that's the one I signed up for, and sent the friend requests to my daughter and grandsons.

The boys responded immediately...and prolifically. Before I knew it I had photos of their home and bedrooms; the boys playing T-ball and soccer; my daughter and grandsons at church; my daughter and grandsons sitting with a man named Charles and eating ice cream cones. Charles looked perfectly respectable...there was no way he was good enough for my daughter.

Again, all that was two weeks ago. This morning, when the anonymous friend request arrived, I almost deleted it before I read the note: "Dear Mr. Downell, do you remember a bear named Winston?"

How could I forget.

******

Fifty Years Ago

******

The young US Air Force Airman First Class (A1C), he'd only just turned 20, sighed happily as he rinsed himself under the cold, outdoor shower, at Camp Bullis, near San Antonio, Texas. He'd just finished several weeks at the camp undergoing Air Force Security Police Air Base Ground Defense training before leaving for his new assignment in Germany.

He wrapped a towel around his trim waist, put on flip-flops, and strolled back to the large tent that had been his home...along with the rest of his squad...for the past several weeks of training. In the tent he tossed his dirty fatigues and boots into his duffel bag and put on civilian clothes for the first time since arriving at Bullis. As he sat on his bunk at the rear of the tent putting on his socks and shoes, he laughed as he thought about some of the things that had happened...

There was the day the class was taught, and then had to practice, low crawls and high crawls. As he'd crawled towards concealment in a thick patch of brush, he'd come face-to-face with a coiled rattlesnake. The instructor laughed as he said it was the first time he'd ever seen someone low crawl backwards faster than forwards.

Then there were the fire ants. The fucking things were everywhere. Only a couple days ago, during an overnight exercise to simulate taking and holding an airstrip, he'd reached into a box of c-rations to get something for dinner. Unfortunately, someone else had thrown their empties into the box and it was infested. He felt like his hand was on fire as he pulled it out of the box. He frantically swiped off the stinging ants and watched his hand swell almost double in size. Two days later, his hand continued to itch. Fifty years later he still hated and feared ants. He still had nightmares about stinging ants covering his body.

Later that same night, on the other side of the secured area, someone fired off a whole magazine of M-16 blanks on full auto. They thought there was an instructor trying to sneak through their position; it turned out to be an Armadillo.

Of course, there was the 90+ degree day the class was taken on a long hike around the base perimeter without canteens to 'toughen you up' the instructor said. The airman vividly remembered the sound of gagging as the man behind him puked all over the back of his legs. When the man gagged again, the airman gracefully danced out of the way. His move drew laughs and applause from the trainees around him...not to mention a sharp rebuke from the training NCO who ordered the airman to get his ass back in line. When they finally returned to the tent complex, the airman had to run his uniform through the wash three times to get out the stench of vomit.

Each night after training, most of the trainees gathered at the rec center next to the chow hall. It had the only TV on the base and received three channels. The TV rules were simple: the first person in the rec center controlled the TV--until he left--then the next arrival took over. There was also the juke box at the snack bar up on the hill. At least once a night someone would play the trainees' unofficial anthem..."Take This Job and Shove It." Most everyone sang along.

The squad tent held one NCO plus the Airman on his way to Germany and 10 brand new Airman Basics fresh out of Security Police Tech School at Lackland AFB. The Airman looked up from his reverie to see AB Smith entering the tent. They'd become friendly because AB Smith was destined for the northern tier base the airman had just left. The airman shared many tips on thriving in North Dakota. "Yo Chief," The AB greeted his mentor, "The bus to the airport is up at the theater."

"Thanks, Smitty. Let's go." They walked up the dirt path to the assembly area and waited in line to board the bus that would take them to the airport. The airman had been approved for two weeks of leave after the training so he was catching a flight home to Boston via Atlanta. He hadn't seen his mother in almost two years and he was looking forward to it. He hadn't seen his father in 18 years...and didn't care.

As you've probably guessed, that airman was me. Once at the airport, I stopped at the Delta Airlines counter and picked up the ticket I'd reserved. After that I made my way to the checkpoint that passed for security back in the early 70's. I stopped at a bookstore and bought Book #1 in a series called 'The Destroyer'. I laughed a lot as I read it. People looked at me like I was crazy.

They called the flight for boarding. When I got on, I had an aisle seat. There was another Air Force guy already in the window seat. I looked him over; his uniform was a mess and he wasn't a cop, so, I ignored him.

I'd been sitting for a while when the flight attendants closed the cabin doors. Five minutes later they opened the door again and a young girl carrying a giant teddy bear bigger than her got on the plane and started walking down the aisle. 'Please, please, please God don't let her sit next to me!' I pleaded. God wasn't listening...or maybe they were...when you think about how things turned out.

Sure enough, the girl stopped in front of me, "I think I'm in the middle seat." She said. All I could see was the damn teddy bear. I stood up to give her room. "Would you help me stow my bear?" She asked with an English accent. I reached up and opened the bin, took the bear, and somehow managed to stuff it in and get the bin closed. We took our seats again and the plane began taxiing.

After we took off the girl tapped me on the arm, "Thanks for helping me with the bear. I'm Priscilla Calder."

"It's nice to meet you Priscilla, I'm Aiden Downell." I returned to reading my book.

"My bear tactic didn't work today." Priscilla said with a laugh. "Thanks again for helping me put it away."

"Bear tactic?" I marked my place and put down the book.

"Truth. I carry that monster whenever I travel. His name is Winston. Anyway, carrying Winston gives people the impression that I'm a lot younger than I am. You'd be surprised how often Winston and I get to sit in first class. It didn't work today."

"When I saw you walking down the aisle with Winston I thought you were about 12 years old."

"Hardly. I just turned 21. I spent the summer visiting cousins who live in Texas. Now, I'm heading back to the UK to begin my last year at university."

I couldn't help laughing as I tried to reconcile her apparent youth with being in the last year of university. "What are you studying?" I finally asked.

"Veterinary medicine. I hope, someday, to have my own small animal practice."

"Have you read the James Herriot books?" I asked.

"Oh yes. They're published with different titles in the UK; but yes, I've read the first two UK versions. I adored them."

Priscilla and I chatted amiably for the entire flight to Atlanta. I discovered that she was from Nottingham. Of course, I asked the obligatory questions about Robin Hood, Maid Marian, and Sherwood Forest. She refused to commit one way or the other as to the truth of the legend. We tried, carefully, to compare our two countries. We were just starting to discuss the differences between American Bars and British Pubs when the pilot announced we were beginning the descent to Atlanta. I had to admit that I was only 20 and not old enough, yet, to drink. She was visibly surprised to find I was younger than her.

It was hot and stormy that afternoon in Atlanta. During our approach the plane was rocking, rolling, and bouncing pretty good. I was nervous. Priscilla was terrified. When we finally landed, she'd left several deep fingernail impressions and bruises on the underside of my left arm.

As soon as the plane stopped, I stood and got Winston out of the overhead and blocked the aisle so that Priscilla could get up. We stopped in the gate area and said goodbye and that we'd each enjoyed the conversation. We shook hands and went our separate ways.

It took a while but I found my way to the gate for my flight to Boston. Turned out it had been delayed by two hours. I found a payphone and tried to call home and let my mother know but she didn't answer. Knowing my mom, I figured she'd been at the airport since noontime. So, I walked around the terminal visiting various vendors. I remember that I grabbed a snack; but I don't remember what it was.

I went to the departure gate. The sign over the desk still showed the delay. I sat down and pulled out my book. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" All I saw was the damned giant stuffed teddy bear.

"Hello Winston. Please have a seat. Where have you left Priscilla?" I teased.

She set the bear in my lap and sat down. "That's you, going to Boston as well?" Priscilla asked.

"Yes. That's where I grew up."

"I've read of the Boston Red Sox. Are you a baseball fan? My cousins in San Antonio tried to explain baseball but it seemed so...confusing." We easily restarted the conversation we'd stopped when we got off the plane from Texas.

"No. I'm not a baseball fan; however, I am a Red Sox fan. Do you enjoy sports, or have any favorite sports teams?"

"Oh yes! I live and die by Nottingham Forest FC." She blushed, "I hate to admit, I have a huge crush on John Middleton, the goalkeeper. Please don't tell anyone I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me."

Just then the airline's gate workers showed up and began preparing to board the passengers. Priscilla turned to me, "Do you think we can get seats together?"

"Let's go ask."

The next 10 minutes were hilarious. The middle-aged woman working the counter all but accused me of being a human trafficker and rapist trying to take advantage of an innocent young girl. She even threatened to call security if I didn't stay away from Priscilla. When we stopped laughing, Priscilla pulled out her passport while I got my military ID out of my wallet. The woman finally realized her error, blushed and stammered an apology.

Priscilla and I ended up sitting together as we'd requested...in first class. It was a very nice flight. We talked the entire way, mainly discussing the similarities and differences between our two countries and trying to find common ground to keep the conversation going. We also ventured, very carefully, into individual likes and dislikes.

I told her about my dog, a mutt, named Rowdy. She had cats named Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. "Those are strange names." I offered as an opinion.

"I know. I stole them from a book of poems called 'Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats' by TS Eliot. I absolutely adore those poems. I'd love to see someone put them to music."

"I'm not sure how well songs about cats would be received." I offered. {Author's Note: Okay, so I was wrong about that. Who knew what Andrew Lloyd Webber had planned.}

Priscilla smiled smugly, "You'll see." That was when the flight attendants served a meal. We ate quietly; bumping elbows several times as we tried to cut up the chicken. After we ate, I finally asked her about her dream of a small animal vet practice. "Oh, you know, dogs, cats, birds, reptiles, that sort of thing. I don't want to be like Herriot, out traipsing around The Dales looking for horses and cows. I don't particularly want to deal with the large animals."

The plane landed shortly after that. Like in Atlanta, I stood first and pulled Winston out of the overhead. Priscilla and I were the first ones out the door and we held hands as we strolled up the jetway. In the gate area we stopped and faced each other. Priscilla smiled, "I've really enjoyed talking with you." She put a hand on my shoulder and I bent down. We shared a very short, very soft, and very chaste kiss.

"Thank you. I enjoyed it too."

"Aiden! Over here!" I recognized my mother's voice.

"Priscilla!" A male voice came from the opposite direction.

Priscilla and I each shrugged, smiled, and said goodbye.

I walked over to where my mother was standing. She had my dog Rowdy on a leash by her side. "Hi Mum, how are you?" I hugged her and took Rowdy's leash while we started walking toward the baggage claim area.

"So? Young man who was that girl I saw you kissing?"

"Wow, Mum. Not bad. You waited almost 10 minutes. Her name is Priscilla, she's from England. We met on the plane and got to talking."

"And that kiss?"

"We were wishing each other good luck and saying goodbye..."

*****

"Yes, I remember a bear named Winston." I responded. "Priscilla...?"

The End