Into the Aether_Part One(3)

“I hate this part,” the man muttered to himself. He continued looking out at the specks of light glinting from the city below, and rapped his fingers restlessly against his knee. As he leaned back into the full-sized leather seat and buckled his seatbelt, he gave a long sigh. He had wanted to enjoy his first time in first class, but his fear of flying distracted him. Closing his eyes, he tried to draw up a peaceful memory, but all that came to him was the recollection of how his journey had started.


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BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

He smacked the alarm clock on his bedside table and with a groan, outstretched his arms and legs in the bed. He laid his forearm across his eyes, the prospect of another five minutes’ rest tempting him.

RING RING

He lifted his head from the pillow and listened. Had he imagined the noise?

RING RING

Realizing it was his phone, he swung his legs out of bed and stiffly stood up. He hobbled out of his bedroom and into the living room, where he was greeted by a large grey cat sitting on the cushion of his chair.

The cat looked at him expectantly. “Meow?”

RING RING

“I’ll get you a treat in a minute, Smoky,” he said, gently scratching the impatient cat's head with one hand and picking up the phone with the other.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Aaron? Aaron, it’s Sam Parker.”

“Sam?” he asked, his mind still sluggish. It took him a few moments to remember Sam from his days in military communications.

“Yeah. How are things going with you?”

“Just fine, Sam,” Aaron said, confused. Gently moving his cat with one hand, he sat down. Smoky took the opportunity to leap onto his lap and lie down.

“Good, good. Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh? Could it have waited until seven at night and not seven in the morning?” he asked. An unsettling sigh came from the telephone. Aaron furrowed his brow, bracing himself. “It’s alright, Sam, I had to get up anyway for school.”

“Yeah, the time difference is my fault, sorry. Have you gone back to school?”

“No, I teach high school computer classes now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. Is there anything else I should know and pass along?” he asked in mock interest.

“Sam, why are you calling?”

“There's something you need to know.”

“What’s happened?” Aaron asked, sitting upright. Smoky jumped off and sauntered toward his food dish.

“It’s Jordan. He's passed away,” Sam said, a heaviness in his voice.

“Passed away? He’s dead?”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

“When did this happen? How did he die?”

“It was a car accident. Looked like Jordan was racing someone when he took a corner too sharply. He collided with a guardrail that gave way to a sheer cliff.”

“Oh, God,” Aaron replied, putting a hand to his mouth. “Did they find the other driver?”

“They found a second set of tire tracks, but no car. No one has come forward.”

“When is the funeral?” asked Aaron.

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “There’s already been one, Aaron. Jordan died almost a year ago.”

Aaron’s chest burned. “Why did no one tell me?” he snarled.

“We weren't the ones who planned the funeral. The guys and I were making plans to meet up in his hometown for a couple drinks when your name came up. We realized no one remembered seeing you at the funeral.” Aaron leaned back in his chair, flabbergasted. “It isn’t going to be anything formal, just a night of reminiscing over a couple beers. A little memorial service in his honor.”

Yeah, I remember the last time you had a few drinks, Aaron thought darkly. “Jordan saved my life. How could no one have thought to tell me?” he asked.

“He saved all of our lives, Aaron. Maybe if you had kept in touch…”

Aaron sat unmoving and an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to turn this on you,” Aaron finally said, squeezing the phone tightly, his free hand balling into a fist. “Where is the memorial service being held?” He didn’t bother to hide the sharp edge in his voice.

“The Loyalist Hotel, outside of Toronto. We've already booked a bunch of rooms. At least we're getting a group rate!” Sam chuckled, trying to bring some levity to the conversation. When Aaron said nothing, Sam cleared his throat. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

Aaron slowly reached for the notepad and pen he always kept by the phone, his hands shaking. “Yes. What’s the address and date?”

Sam provided an address in a city called Hamilton. The date for the informal memorial was set for two weeks to the day. Aaron hung up and walked to his computer, where he logged onto the rewards section for his credit card. Several flights were leaving in the two-week mark, but one left the day before the memorial. He wanted to miss as little school as possible, so he quickly reserved a seat by the window—one of the only two seats left on the flight. Logging off the computer, Aaron muttered to himself that this was one of the few times he wished he had a car.





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