Off Kilter Read Free Page A

accent, perhaps Scottish, but he couldn’t be certain. In any case, her soothing voice and charming accent brought a wan smile to his face, blunting any ill feelings.
    Still struggling to re-enter the present, Collin sheepishly nodded toward the phone. “My wife, actually.” His voice ragged, barely audible
    “You miss her, don’t you? Can’t say I blame you at all.” Shooting her eyes toward the phone, she added, “Gorgeous, I say. Just gorgeous.” The way her words bounced and rolled was almost musical, engaging his mind in their sounds instead of the paralysis brought on by the searing pain his memories produced, unleashed by a glance at his favorite picture.
    Smiling now and still very attentive, the flight attendant asked again if she could be of service. He shook his head. She locked eyes with him just long enough for him to know she was concerned, then turned and continued down the aisle.
    The business woman added a closing statement before turning back to the computer on her own lap. “Bet you’ll be glad to get home now, won’t you?”
    He just nodded as he pressed the button at the top to lock the screen and put the phone in a pocket in his backpack. She couldn’t have known, and he couldn’t tell her, that he had no home.
    Collin lingered in the moment, mouth open, ready to speak, but rather than start a conversation, he turned away and looked out the window. Better to stick with Lukas’s advice: lay low and try not to draw any attention.
    He rubbed his hand across his face from his forehead to his chin, smoothed his shirt, and stared out the window. He clinched his eyes and tried to push away the memory. The deep moaning sound of a big rig’s brakes locking up. The squeal of tires. The crunching of metal .
    The business woman was soon re-absorbed in her own world—laptop open, earphones in, keyboard clicking. Occasionally, she looked at Collin as if to check on him, making sure he was OK. Collin opened his laptop and pretended to work. Open in front of him was his journal—a travel log he kept for Amy, chronicling the sights, sounds, smells, and food he had taken in during his wanderings. She had wanted so badly to travel the world with him. It was one of her fondest dreams, so Collin did what he could to share his experiences. This was his labor of love. His show of undying devotion.
    He couldn’t work. His mind was locked in a battle to push back the pain and he stared blankly at the screen until he gave up and put the computer away. He spent the rest of the flight wrestling with his memories.
    After the plane landed and taxied to the gate, the business woman leaned over to him one last time and said, “All the best to you now. You take care of that pretty little wife of yours when you’re back to the States, won’t you? Be sure you don’t take things for granted, you hear?”
    Collin managed a half-smile and nodded to her, unable to speak because of the knot caught in his throat at hearing those words. They were well-intentioned, he knew, but uninformed.
    Collin stayed in his seat, looking out the window, biting his lower lip. High pitched screams. Rocks slamming against metal. Silence. His insides went numb. He couldn’t move.
    He waited until the crowd thinned out so he could maneuver unobstructed through the aisle of the plane. His pace was lethargic until he entered the main corridor. When he noticed himself isolated and exposed in the wide expanse of the terminal, he quickened his steps to catch a group of passengers, walking at the edge of the crowd, keeping pace with them, becoming just another face in an unfamiliar place.
    Despite his prior anxiety, Collin easily cleared customs in Hamburg. From the curb outside the terminal, he caught the branded shuttle to the Marriott downtown. He checked in, speaking few words but in perfect German, even using a German name, passport, and credit card. In his room, Collin turned on CNN and watched it for an hour before opening his backpack.