Jake held the payphone receiver to one ear and plugged the other with his finger so he could hear above the airport noise around him. “Yeah, Dad, I just touched down a bit ago, everything seems good for Chicago.” His stomach growled. He had a good hour before boarding, plenty of time to grab some lunch, he thought.

“Don’t forget to call Uncle Bobby, okay?” Paul reminded him. “And make sure you talk to him, no second-hand messages.” He knew all-too-well the potential black hole of information his cousin’s house could be. 

 “I know, Dad,” Jake glanced down the corridor as the intercom squawked overhead. 

 “Maybe this time away will give you a chance to clear your head, help you figure some things out. And give your mom and you some much-needed breathing room.” 

 “Thanks, Dad,” a lump formed in his throat. “I really appreciate it. I’ll call from Skokie later tonight. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, son. Have a good flight.” The line clicked as he hung up. 

 Jake replaced the receiver, a hollow ache settling in his gut.

 Walking down the corridor, he stopped at the News Stand shop to kill some time. He saw a book his dad had been reading prominently on display, Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. After reading the back cover and the table of contents, he was confused what all the fuss was about, let alone what planet women were from.

Wandering over to the fiction section, Pelican Brief caught his eye, but a quick scan of the first few chapters seemed dull. He perused over a few more titles when a clerk placed three books on the Bestseller shelf. Jazz and Waiting to Exhale were both skippable in his mind, but the cover on the end read Sahara in a yellowed font over a desert backdrop. That it was by Clive Cussler sealed Jake’s decision, having been a Dirk Pitt fan since reading Cyclops in middle school. A pack of Zotz and some Hubba Bubba rounded out his book purchase. 

Back in the busy South Concourse Jake found an AT&T payphone cubical open. He set down his bag and backpack,as he fumbled with the Sprint calling card in his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper with Bobby’s number scrawled on it by his dad. After punching all the numbers into the keypad, the phone’s shrill ring echoed in his ears.

 “Hello?” a gruff voice boomed from the other end.

 “Hey, Uncle Bobby.”

 “Jake! You having a smooth flight so far?” 

“Yeah, it’s good. I’m just chillin’ in Phoenix until we board for Chicago. Thanks for picking me up tonight. I’ve got another hour or so before we head out, so everything’s on schedule.” 

“Good, good, Christy and Jenny are itchin’ to see you. Ready to ditch that Arizona heat?” 

 “You bet, I’m really excited to see you guys.”

 “Can’t blame ya. Excited about spreadin’ your wings a little, huh?” 

“Yeah, something like that. Thanks again, Uncle Bobby.”

 “No sweat, kid. Call if anything changes. See you at nine.” 

 “Thanks Uncle…” Jake started as the line clicked dead, leaving him staring at the receiver. He scanned the bustling terminal, checking his Casio watch. 3:00 PM glared back at him. Boarding wasn’t until almost 4:00 PM and the departure board displayed a 4:30 PM takeoff. Time for a walk around the concourse, he decided. Sunset Bar & Grill beckoned – a burger and a Dr. Pepper seemed like the perfect pre-flight fuel. He settled in, watching planes roar down the runway as he devoured his medium-well burger, all the fixings except onions, and a mountain of steak fries.

 Time ticked by. Around 3:40 PM, he paid his bill and headed back to his gate. A flight attendant, name tag reading “Florence,” was busy with paperwork.

“Good afternoon,” Jake cleared his throat. “I’m Jake Stanton. Just checking in before boarding.”

Florence looked up, “Boarding pass, please,” her eyes scanning the paperwork as Jake handed it to her. 

“Jacob Stanton, connecting flight from Phoenix to Chicago O’Hare, seventeen years old…” Her voice trailed off as she reviewed the screen. “Everything looks good. Your seat assignment is all set, and you can even board early if you need extra time to brace yourself for the Windy City.”

“Think I’ll be alright. Thanks, though.”

“No Problem! Just hang tight for a few minutes. I’ll be making an announcement soon to get this Chicago-bound stampede started.” Her eyes held a hidden glint of excitement as she thought of her own return home. “And, hey, thanks for flying America West.”

With a nod of thanks, Jake went back to his seat. He unzipped his backpack, the familiar scent of leather and worn notebooks greeting him. Pulling out his trusty Discman, he flipped through his CD wallet, the worn Metallica CD catching his eye. Black Album it was, then. He plugged in his headphones, the comforting hiss became a shield against the pre-flight chatter.

Florence’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker a few minutes later, her announcement about boarding flight 235 to Chicago O’Hare a welcome interruption. Passengers needing extra assistance, families with restless toddlers, and those with the magic of frequent flier status were called first.

Jake dug out his boarding pass, the bold “14A” – his coveted window seat. Soon, the call for rows 10-15 echoed through the terminal and Jake joined the shuffling line, a knot of anticipation tightening in his gut.

As he settled into his seat, the familiar outline of the Superstition Mountains greeted him through the window. They wouldn’t be in sight for long. An older gentleman slid into the aisle seat next to him, briefcase firmly in hand.

“Afternoon, son,” the man greeted, a warm smile crinkling clear to the corners of his eyes. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Jake replied politely. “Heading to Chicago for business?”

“Yup, though I might sneak out of a meeting early to catch the White Sox game. A’s versus Sox, you follow baseball?”

“Absolutely, sir.” A flicker of amusement crossed the man’s face.

“No need for the ‘sir,'” he extended a calloused hand. “Call me Dale. You are a baseball fan yourself, then?”

“Huge fan, saw the A’s in spring training back in Tucson. Even got to see Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire hit some monster homers. Met Jose’s twin brother Ozzie too – super nice guy.”

Dale’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic, son. I actually met McGwire myself at an event in Phoenix a while back. And speaking of…” he reached into his briefcase, a flourish in his movements. Out came a crisp baseball card in a hard plastic holder, the familiar blue border and crisp white corners were perfect. “1985 Mark McGwire rookie card,” he showed the card with the inscription on the front reading “To Dale, Mark McGwire.”

Jake’s breath caught in his throat. “Wow!”

“They’re having an amazing season this year. Bit of luck, a couple of solid hitters and pitchers – you know the drill.” 

The captain’s voice interrupted to fill the cabin with the announcement of their imminent taxi to the runway.

“Well, Jake,” Dale settled back in his seat, “Hopefully we have a smooth flight. Thinking of taking a nap, myself. Got the latest Sporting News here if you’d like some reading material.” 

Jake accepted the newspaper, carefully folding it and tucking it into the seat pocket in front of him. The plane roared down the runway, the familiar thrumming a lullaby in his ears. Dale was already lost in sleep not long after takeoff. Jake thumbed through the “Sporting News” as he slipped on his headphones, the pounding rhythm of Metallica drowning out the world. The names and stats soon blurred together until his eyelids drooped shut, succumbing to the lull of the airplane’s engine.

A gentle tap on his arm roused him from his slumber. Florence stood in the aisle, a kind smile on her face.

“Time to stow your headphones. We’re preparing for landing soon. Adjust your seat and get comfortable.”

He glanced out the window. Below, the Chicago lights stretched towards the inky line of Lake Michigan between the clouds. As the city grew closer, Jake handed the Sporting News back to Dale and put away his Discman. He wondered what awaited him in the coming days. It was a question that hung heavy in the air. The landing was as smooth as it could be for O’Hare. As they taxied to the terminal, Jake glanced out into the city night.

“Enjoy your trip, Jake,” Dale said as he grabbed his briefcase to get up from his seat once they’d come to a stop.

“You too, Dale, hope you get to see the A’s game.” 

“So do I, Jake, so do I,” he nodded and headed up the aisle of the plane.

Jake stepped out into the aisle and, after the usual dance of deplaning passengers, made his way through the jetway and into the bustling concourse. A familiar figure stood out amidst the crowd – his Uncle Bobby, sporting his usual tan jacket and a mix of gray and black hair poking out under his Cubs hat. Beside him, Jenny, now twelve, stood grinning widely with her wild shoulder-length brown hair cascading down a jean jacket over an oversized Bulls T-shirt and matching leggings. She’d grown so much in the last year that he hardly recognized her.

“Hey ya, Jake,” Bobby gripped his nephew into a hug.

“Hi, Bobby.” After he turned to Jenny. “Hi Jenny, you look as pretty as ever!” He pulled her into a hug.

“Hi, Jake. Thanks,” a slight blush crept up her cheeks. “Do you like my jacket? I just got these patches put on it.” 

“It looks really rad.” he grinned back at her.

As they headed to the baggage claim, Bobby turned to Jake, “So what are we looking for?”

“Two giant brown Samsonite suitcases,” 

“Wow, glad I brought the minivan. Did you manage to fit the kitchen sink in there, too?” He teased as they wrestled the hefty suitcases off the conveyor belt and onto the floor.

“Pretty close. I’m here for two months, Mom wanted to make sure I had enough for everything.”

By the time they had made their way to the van and got it loaded, a light rain had begun to fall. As they navigated the familiar streets of Skokie, Jake enjoyed the brief silence, his gaze drawn south towards the city lights shimmering faintly through the clouds.

“Not much of a view tonight,” Bobby remarked. “But tomorrow morning, before we head north, you might get a good one.

They pulled up to a small split-level house on Williamsburg Road. Bobby parked and he and Jake unloaded the luggage as the rain began to pick up. Entering through the garage, they made their way to the laundry room when Christy called up from the basement in her strong Minnesota accent.

“Jacob, how are you, dear?” She appeared at the top of the stairs. “Got your bed all set up downstairs. Fresh sheets and a warm blanket to keep you cozy.”

“Thank you, Aunt Christy.” He gave her a big hug, getting lost for a minute in her Farah Fawcett hairstyle, its feathered layers a testament to a bygone era and the beauty that she’d once held. “I hardly recognized Jenny,” he teased his cousin.

“Oh, don’t I know,” Christy laughed, reaching for her daughter, who desperately tried to slink away from the conversation. “Gonna have to get a pack of alligators and a moat if she gets any prettier.”

“Mom, seriously?” Jenny pleaded, hurrying off to her room.

“Are you hungry? Do you need anything to eat?” Christy inquired.

Jake’s stomach rumbled after a busy day of travel, “I could eat something if it’s not too much trouble.”

Bobby rolled his eyes as his wife took the comment as a personal challenge. “Want some pizza? I think we have some leftover Uno’s in the fridge from earlier. You’ll love it, really good pizza.”

“Yeah, real pizza. The kind you eat with a fork.” Bobby restated. 

“Thank you, I can’t wait.” Jake took a seat at the table. Bobby grabbed himself a Miller Lite and set one down for Jake.

“Bobby,” Christy began, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

“Christy, the boy’s almost eighteen and about to head off to college in a year. I’m sure he can handle it,” he argued then smirked. “Alright, alright, fine,” he conceded, turning to Jake. “Jake, would you like a beer?”

“Yes, Uncle Bobby, I’d love a beer, thank you,” 

“Here you go son, you’re welcome,” grinning ear-to-ear at his wife. “See, Chris, I have manners.”

Christy mumbled something under her breath as she turned back to the kitchen to check on the pizza. She returned with a cake pan of bubbling deep dish.

The three chatted for a while before Jenny emerged in a long nightgown, fearing she might miss out on something. “What are you eating?” 

“Just reheated some pizza for Jake,” Bobby looked toward his daughter. “Then we’re all heading to bed. Are you still hungry?”

Her look gave the answer as she sat at the table, though more craving the family gossip than the pizza 

“So, what’s going on out in Arizona that has you fleeing out here like a bat out of hell? I heard you took on your mother earlier this year and won. Hats off to you, man, that took some serious Balls!” Bobby gave Jake a pat on the back.

“Bobby!” Christy glared at him. “Please, Jake’s going to think—”

“Jake ain’t gonna think nothin’, dear, it’s okay,” he assured her. “But seriously though, son, I’m not sure if your father has it in him to do that.”

Jake dug his fork into the golden-brown crust smothered by a mountain of gooey cheese, tangy tomato sauce, and savory pepperoni slices. “I don’t know about winning. She got me kicked off the winter baseball league and I had to spend my weekends working on a community service project. The good news is I got to work with my Grandpa Clark and his friend who runs Habitat for Humanity down in Southern Arizona.” 

“That’s good.” Christy gave a look to her husband that signaled she would take the reins of the conversation. “Sounds like your mother is doing well?” 

“Yeah, this year has been better, it’s a challenge sometimes.” He paused, unsure how much Jenny should know about his mother’s struggles..

 “And I must say, I saw that lovely picture of you and that beautiful Spanish girl in the golden prom dress. You both looked so cute.”

Jake squirmed, searching for the right words for a conversation that he thought would never go away. “Uh, we…decided to see other people for the summer,” he finally stuttered out.

“No way!” Jenny was shocked, “Natalie told me you guys…”

“Well, it’s over,” Jake injected,unsure what Natalie had told her younger cousin. He pivoted away to something else.

 “I did want to thank you for picking me up tonight, Bobby, so I didn’t have to get in so late in Milwaukee.”

“Absolutely. No trouble at all. Need anything else before you turn in?” Bobby got up as Jake finished his pizza. 

“Nope, I’m good. Thanks for everything. Good night.” He placed his plate in the sink and headed toward the basement.

“Good night, sweetheart,” Christy gave him a big hug before she and Bobby headed upstairs.

In the basement, Jake was glad to finally get to bed with some peace and quiet. As he settled in, unease gnawed at him, overshadowed by thoughts of what he had left behind in Arizona. The many decisions, unresolved, swirled in his mind as he finally drifted off to sleep.