I couldn't see anything before and around me in the snowstorm, so I remembered my Plane Recognition training and listened for an enemy plane, particularly the MiG-15.
My Corsair's cockpit rocked, and my goggles fogged as I breathed heavily and shivered from the cold. I jumped slightly when a dark outline appeared beside me, but it was only the mountain's shadow.
The last thing I heard from Ted a few minutes ago was that most enemy planes had been shot down, but he still suspected a few might be hiding in the snowstorm, hoping to catch us off guard. We just had to get through this mission, and then I could finally tell Ted that I accepted his confession to being queer. I had thought long and hard about it, but I didn't want to lose my best friend. We were growing older, which meant we were realizing things about ourselves that we didn't as kids. If only Ted's confession hadn't occurred amid a war. Maybe it would have been easier.
I leaped back to reality when an airplane entered my peripheral. At once, I shot my rockets, and they blew off its tail, causing a trail of smoke.
I quickly dodged the falling pieces and grinned. I got someone! I got someone! I got—wait a minute. No!
As the plane dropped toward the mountain, I barely saw its gull-shaped wings, long nose, and enormous Double-Wasp engine before it disappeared into the snowstorm.
"Ted!" I screamed, but it was too late. I just shot down my best friend.
***
Tallulah and I sit in MUSC's waiting room, and I grip my aching head with the memory and my anxiety over Natalie. Chatter's around us, but I don't remove my hands and shake. I'm surprised I haven't had a panic attack myself. This is the worst day of my life, next to the dogfight.
The doctors just told Tallulah and me that they found a heart abnormality in Natalie, brought on by the panic attack, and are currently putting in a stent. In a nutshell, Teddy nearly gave her a heart attack. I almost lost my daughter today because of this damn dog we picked up on the road. How can I not feel guilty? I've fallen into another dogfight, but this one doesn't have wings. At least Natalie tried with Teddy, but she's never getting over that childhood trauma, and I have to respect that.
I lower my hands and see that Tallulah has just finished sending a text. The waiting room's AC is on full blast, chairs line the wall, and some are arranged within the room. I think that's a medical student over there shadowing a doctor. They stand before a family of three. Smiles fill their faces when they're given good news, but my anxiety only increases. No one knows what will happen in the hospital. I'm sure Natalie's fine, but my inner demon clashes with my conscience.
Tallulah and I wait a little longer, and then Natalie's doctor exits through a door at the back of the waiting room. "Ah," he says, approaching us. He wears a long white coat and a stethoscope around his neck. His hair resembles mine from when I was a young man: short and brown. "Mr. Beckington, we've moved your daughter to the ward," he explains (is that relief in his dark eyes?). "She took the procedure well, but we will keep her overnight for observation."
I release the breath I'm holding. Some people weren't told good news in a hospital setting.
"I'll take you two to her room if you'd like," the doctor continues. "She's resting now, but I'm sure she would love to have you guys."
"Thank you, doctor," I say.
Tallulah clutches my shoulder and gestures at her phone. "I'll come in a few, Bill; I need to make a phone call. Your daughter needs you right now, not me."
I shoot her a gentle smile and pat her back.
Tallulah turns on her heel and begins to leave, glancing back at us. I notice she stares at me more than the doctor. I wonder if I remind her of her dad. Oh, God, did he die in the hospital? Have I hurt Natalie's friend as well? The thought clouds my mind as the doctor leads me to an elevator that takes us to the hospital's third floor.
I grasp the railing and examine the main floor below; my eyes catch sight of the food court. We never had our barbecue, but I can't think about hunger now. Natalie needs me. Regardless, my tummy rumbles the entire trip down the hallway to her room, and then it's drowned out by the sound of her heart monitor.
Someone has drawn her window shades, and Natalie is asleep on her side, her hand under her head of loose hair. She's calm again, and that brings me peace, seeing her not screaming and thrashing; yet, that doesn't change the fact that a dog nearly gave her a heart attack, and now I have to witness my baby girl hooked up to machines. It's hard, but any parent would feel the same, right?
The doctor leaves me alone with Natalie, and I grab a chair from her closet. Dragging it to her bedside, I sit and slip my cane under it.
My baby girl... Why did this happen to you and not me? First Ted, and now you. Why am I always the last one standing? Something tells me I may never receive an answer.
Memories and fear plague me for the next hour, but I do not leave Natalie's side. I hold her hand and rub my finger across it, all while examining her room. Shit! I should've brought her flowers. Why am I such an awful father? Natalie doesn't deserve a selfish grump like me.
"I'm sorry, Natalie," I whisper. I remove my hand from hers and pick up my new book and movie from under my seat.
The door opens behind me, and I turn to look over my shoulder. In steps Tallulah and... Hold on. It's Temple. Temple's here in Natalie's hospital room. He's dressed in a T-shirt and khaki pants. Over his shoulder is a bag, and he clutches its strap with both hands. "I came as soon as Tallulah texted," Temple explains. It's sweet that he came to check on us, but Tallulah should have told me.
I give her a stern look to emphasize this and notice her looking nervous. She did nothing wrong; I merely don't like surprises. Temple's kind, but I also would like a little privacy with Natalie.
Temple sees this and says, "Sorry, I just wanted to ensure you and she were okay—that's all." He opens his bag and takes out a notebook and a pen. Coming within reach, Temple smiles mournfully and offers me the notebook. I accept it, and he nods, backing away. "Come on, Tallulah, let's grab something from the food court. Would you like something, Bill?"
I don't answer and set the notebook on my lap on top of the movie and book.
"We'll bring you something," Temple adds, and then I hear the door closing.
I yawn but force myself to stay awake by writing an entire diary entry in the notebook. It's dubbed "The Dogfight" and reads:
I thought things would work out with Teddy, but as life is, I'm once again the last one standing.
Natalie and I had a wonderful day today for my 92nd birthday, which included a Harbor Tour and a visit to the Medal of Honor Museum. Natalie did everything to ensure I had a great birthday, but then Teddy turned aggressive when she accidentally stepped on his tail and almost attacked her—just like that dog I saw in the alleyway all those years ago.
Now, here I am, sitting in a hospital room because Teddy nearly gave Natalie a heart attack. The doctors say she'll be fine and will start cardiac therapy with her, but this is all my fault. This would never have happened if I hadn't insisted that we keep Teddy, knowing Natalie is traumatized by dogs. I murdered my best friend, and now I have almost killed my daughter.
Natalie, I'm sorry. I wish I weren't such a terrible father.
I stop myself from crying and close the notebook, jumping when someone suddenly clasps my hand.
"Daddy, go home." At the sound of Natalie's voice, I do cry—at least a little. "You need to go to bed," Natalie says. "I'm safe here."
"I'm not going anywhere," I say, grasping Natalie's hands. "It's time I stop running, Natalie, and be a better dad. I'm spending the night, and you can't stop me."
She giggles and rubs my cheek. "May you at least eat something for me? Have a little of that barbecue we never shared with Tallulah?"
"I'm not sure if the food court—" I start, but then the door opens again, and Tallulah and Temple enter, carrying a few plates of food.
"Guess what they had in the food court, Bill?" Tallulah inquires, grinning. She and Temple chuckle, and I smile slightly, especially when Tallulah sets down her barbecue plate and rushes to Natalie, hugging her. "Natalie! I'm so happy you're okay! You gave Bill and me a scare earlier."
"I'm sorry." Natalie releases her. "I thought I was beginning to overcome my fear of dogs, but I wasn't. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble." She glimpses at me here. "Is Teddy okay, Dad?"
"Don't worry, Natalie," I respond, re-taking her hand. "I will take him to the Humane Society when we return home tomorrow. He'll never hurt you again—I promise."
"The Humane—?" Natalie cuts off. "He didn't hurt me, though, Dad. I did this to myself. What about our deal?"
"The deal is off," I say, emphasizing with my hands. "I'll still volunteer at Patriots Point, but the dog is going to the Humane Society."
"But, Dad!" Natalie argues.
"I've made myself clear, Natalie," I argue, narrowing my eyes. "You might not get so lucky next time. We can't risk that."
"Bill?" Temple speaks behind me. "May I speak with you... alone?"
"No." I shake my head. "I'm staying with my daughter, Temple."
"Just for a few minutes?" he begs. "Please? It's important."
"But—!"
Natalie nudges me. "Go, Dad. I need some time alone with Tallulah anyway." She fluffs her pillow, rests her back on it, and lowers her head.
Temple leads me into the hallway, a stern look on his face, and gently shuts the door behind us. I slip my hand into my pocket, listening as he says, "Bill, you're falling back into your black hole. That dog has done so much for you and Natalie lately; if he goes to the Humane Society, I'm afraid of what will happen to both of y'all."
"He put Natalie in the hospital," I fight back. "I can't risk this again, Temple. I can't lose someone else I love."
Temple leans against Natalie's door and crosses his arms. "You know, I hate to be the bearer of reality, but you're eventually going to lose your loved ones. That's life. There's a saying to 'live in the moment' you don't understand. You never had since the Incident, but for these past few weeks, I've seen you beginning to grasp this saying—enough that I've even started opening up more about my daughter. Now, you'll let one little accident put you in another dogfight?
At least you still have your daughter, Bill. You're lucky compared to other people, and I don't want this to crush everything you've learned lately. That means I've failed as your Volunteer Coordinator; even worse, you've failed yourself, Natalie, and Ted."
I cringe and tighten my grip around my cane. My bottom lip twitches, and I whimper, "But I love her. I wouldn't still be here, Temple, if not for her."
Temple nods. "Exactly, and now you must return the favor. Give Teddy and Natalie another chance. I know you're scared and still grieving, Bill, but this dog is the best thing that's happened to you since Natalie. You're shining today, and I don't want you to let go of that hope and become a victim of a dogfight again. Loss hurts, but it's not the end of the world. I learned that with my daughter, my Sophia, and you must do the same."
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