Trees Hold Up the Sky 8 William James Johnson

After their early breakfast, Gonzalo's driver took the American scientists to the airport. Arriving at Bogota International, Laura and Jess were shocked to see a decrepit twin engine plane, covered in camouflage and metal patches, being loaded for their flight to San Fernando de Atabapo.

"I don't believe it. A C47. Where the hell did they dig that up?" asked Jess.

"The last time I saw a plane that old was in that movie 'Lost Horizon'," said Laura, smiling tensely. The trip in the flying boxcar from Washington had been very nerve racking, and she wasn't looking forward to another white-knuckle flight.

"When they started using jets, many airlines sold their prop aircraft to third world countries. I guess this was the best Obispo could do," explained Newton.

"Only two engines. Think they'll be able to get off with all of us?" asked Jess.

"Make fun if you like. That old machine's been a terrific work horse since before you were born."

"That's what I'm afraid of. It should've been put out to pasture ages ago."

"The longer you work in this part of the world, the more you'll realize the care these people give to their machines, even if it means keeping them together with string and wire. They don't know the meaning of scrap."

"We saw some real antique cabs in Bolivar Plaza," said Jess, grinning as he recalled the wrecks of vehicles still plying the trade.

"Too bad you didn't try one of them. I'll always remember my first taxi ride. The driver had the doors welded shut. You had to get in through the window."

Watching from the terminal, they saw the students who were joining them, loading the baggage. Outfitted in drab army green, they no longer looked like pampered rich kids. Even Estrelle looked quite ordinary in the morning sun as she passed luggage to Henriquez. When she saw Jess, she stopped and waved tentatively. Enthusiastically he waved back, and got a warm smile for his effort.

"You're asking for trouble," said Laura, rebuking him.

"I'm just a friendly guy."

"Whatever you do, she's going to read more into it. Believe me I know the type." She was sounding like a wife.

"You're just afraid she's after my body."

"I'm serious Jess. There's something about her that just doesn't ring true."

"Now why would you say that?"

"I saw Obispo single her out during his party."

"You're imagining things. Obispo spoke to everyone."

"I'm not talking about casual conversation. He spent several minutes talking to her on the patio before we said goodbye."

"Maybe the old guy was trying to get himself a little on the side. She's a very attractive woman."

"I can see my suspicions aren't getting anywhere with you. All I'm trying to do is protect you. I'd hate to have anything happen to my man."

"Hold on a minute young lady...your man?" He resented her laying claim to him like this. He always looked at life as a game, played one move at a time. Laura was going too quickly for him.

"Come on you two. Time to go aboard," said Hank.

The crisp morning air had an edge as they walked to the plane. Waiting at the metal steps was Gonzalo, his Mercedes parked nearby.

"I've come to wish you a pleasant flight and much success in your ventures."

"Thank you Gonzalo. We'll keep you and the Secretary informed of our progress."

"I'm sorry my friends we could not provide a more modern plane, but when you consider the alternative was to spend days on a boat, this will not seem that bad."

As they boarded, a steward in an Army uniform led the Americans to their seats at the front, behind the main bulkhead. Standing in the doorway of the pilot's compartment was a handsome middle aged man in flying coveralls.

"Senors and senoritas. I am your Captain, Oliveras de Valenzuela. My co-pilot and engineer is Jesus de Manzilla. Your steward is Mr. Carlos Santander. Our flight to San Fernando will be at 11,000 feet. The cabin is not pressurized so you may wish to use oxygen at times. Carlos will assist you. Also the aircraft heater is not in the best condition, so you may find it gets quite cold. Again Carlos will give you blankets if you need them. Our flight will take four hours and thirty five minutes. Lunches will be given in two hours. Thank you, and have a pleasant flight."

Pairs of temporary seats had been installed along the port side of the passenger compartment. Laura took the window seat and asked Jess to join her.

"Sure you wouldn't prefer having one of those younger guys sit with you?" he asked, smiling.

"I hope you're joking."

"Of course I'm joking. What the hell's wrong? You're so uptight?"

"Like I said Jess, there's something about Obispo and Gonzalo that bothers me."

"That'll all be behind us once we take off."

"But I think Garvas is working for them."

"Of course she is. She's Gonzalo's student. It's only natural. But she's working for us too."

The pilot requested everyone put on their belts to prepare for take-off.

"Look Laura, I'm not ignoring your instincts. I had the same feelings about Gonzalo's early meeting with Obispo. All I can suggest, is that we both keep our eyes open for anything suspicious."

"That's all I wanted Jess."

"You've got it."

The engines roared as the pilot opened the throttles, pushing the passengers back into their seats when the brakes were released. For what seemed an eternity the old plane lumbered down the runway, then suddenly the bouncing stopped and it lifted slowly into the air. The sound of the undercarriage banging into the body of the plane, gave Jess a start.

"I guess this is what's called flying by the seat of your pants."

Laura watched the old buildings of Bogota disappear as the pilot climbed in a wide circle to eleven thousand feet before heading east.

"I wonder if we'll ever see them again?" asked Laura.

"You really are in a black mood."

"Obispo didn't paint a very rosy picture for us."

"He was only trying to prepare us for the worst scenario. Then whatever happens, we won't be so disappointed."

Laura was surprised at his remark. "Are you always this optimistic?"

"Something wrong with wanting things to work out?"

"No, but I don't think you're very realistic."

"Look...Let's handle the problems when they come. No sense worrying for nothing."

"You're right Jess. I'm sorry. You sure don't need a crepe hangar as a partner."

"Crepe hangar. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've never heard that expression?"

"Can't say that I have...What's it mean?"

"My dad used to use it a lot. It's what he called a person who sees only the dark side of things. It came from the old funeral directors who put up the traditional black crepe when people were in mourning."

"You learn something new everyday. Do you know what I was thinking we should do?"

"What's that?"

"Why don't we forget all this intrigue and use these next few hours getting to know each other better."

"I'm game. How do you want to do it?" asked Laura.

"We'll start with you. Tell me about your family, where you lived, what work your father did. All that stuff."

"A lot of it's quite personal. We're practically strangers you know. Don't you think your asking too much?"

"Not really. When I used to fly a lot, I discovered that folks are more apt to bare their souls to perfect strangers on a plane than to their closest friends."

"Why would they do that?"

"I think it has to do with the background noise of the engines, and the fact that they may never see each other again."

"You're right about the noise. It does give you a sense of intimacy. Thank God it's not as bad as it was on that other plane. But we really aren't strangers Jess. You've been my hero for years, and as far as our not seeing each other again when we get there, that's out of the question. We're going to be as close as two people can get."

"Okay. You're right. I was generalizing. Do you want try or not?"

"Sure I'll try. Might as well get a few things out in the open right at the start." She took hold of his hand. "I'll start with telling you about my father. You would've liked him. And I'm sure he would've liked you too. He was terrific. A real scholar. He specialized in international politics. As a career diplomat, he was moved all over the world, so I lived in many different countries. That was partly the reason I took my doctorate at Shanghai University."

"Do you speak Chinese?"

"Some Mandarin. I'm better at translating it."

"And your mother?"

"Not much to say about her. We were never very close. I always felt she was sorry she had me. She left us when I was a teenager. Fell in love with one of daddy's secretaries."

"A man?"

"Certainly a man. What kind of a question is that?"

"Now days you have to ask."

"I suppose you're right."

"So what happened to your father?"

"Daddy died when I was away at school. They told me it was a heart attack. I never knew for sure. He never had a problem with his heart as far as I knew. He was living in New Delhi at the time."

"Where's your mother now?"

"Don't know for sure. She left her lover, and the last I heard, she was living in Dubrovnik with the curator of the state art gallery. I haven't heard from her in years."

"How about brothers and sisters?"

"I was an only child...I suppose you're going to say you thought so."

"Not really... So in fact, you're all alone?"

"Since I split up with my husband. Yes I'm all alone."

"Feel like talking about him?"

"Might as well. Dan and I had eight years of pretty terrific living. He was fun to be with. Really smart with numbers. He worked in the finance department of Roosevelt. People liked him a lot, and we used to be invited to all the faculty get-togethers."

"Then why split?"

"He said he wanted more than I could give him."

"What did he mean by that?"

"First of all, he was complaining about all the time I spent travelling in my work. He said he hated being alone. That's when he joined a men's club on campus to make friends. It turned out to be a gay club, and it wasn't too long, before his new friends made him. I didn't know he was experimenting with this so-called alternative life style. He seemed okay to me. In fact our sex life became more varied, more exciting as a result of his new friends. Then one day he told me he was in love and he was going to leave me for someone else. I just about died when he said his lover was a man. You have no idea what that does to your self-image when everyone is saying how good you are in your profession, and your loving husband says he loves a man more than you. It was terrible. I didn't even have my father to help me when I needed him. For months I wasn't much better than a vegetable." She stopped talking to wipe her eyes. "There...Now you've heard the whole sordid mess. Are you satisfied?"

Jess squeezed her hand. He could understand now why she was being so possessive of him. He looked into her lovely face and the eastern sunlight coming in the window glistened off the wet corners of her eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so...It's been quite awhile since I even thought about any of that. Thanks Jess."

"For what?"

"Just letting me say whatever I had to say. I've never told anyone else those things."

"Not even your husband?"

"He was more interested in himself. The world rotated around him. I was just a satellite."

"How could he have been so stupid?"

"What do you mean, stupid?"

"I think you were too much for him. Too smart, too beautiful, and take my word for it, too sexy."

"Maybe. He never liked the attention I was getting for my work. As I said, he wanted to be the centre of things. When I started getting more and more important assignments, he felt more threatened."

"Could be he dropped you, because he could see you were drifting apart and he wanted to do the rejecting rather than be rejected."

Laura sat up and looked directly at Jess. "I never thought of it like that. You could be right. Dan was quite a selfish man."

"Even in sex?"

"Especially in sex. He made me do all sorts of things to help him climax. At first I felt degraded, but then it became a turn on for me too."

"Like what for instance?"

"Please Jess, let's not talk about it now."

"Okay. Whatever you say."

"I'll tell you some other time. I promise. Now please, tell me about you. All of it. I want to hear it all."

"Pretty boring really. I came from a working class family, of five kids. Dad worked in the steel plant in Pittsburgh. It was a grim place to grow up."

"Why was that?"

"The guys never seemed to get ahead. Just when it looked like dad might be able to put aside enough bucks to move us into a better house, there'd be a strike. Sometimes it would last for months, and all his savings would be used just to keep us going. He was a helluva good guy. When the factory shut down, he'd do anything to get some money. I used to go with him to scrub floors in offices, or wash windows. He even passed out advertising flyers door-to-door to get a few dollars. It was dad who convinced me to break out of the rut and get a good education so that I wouldn't become a slave to the system like him."

"How did you ever manage? Getting an education is a big expense."

"Scholarships. I worked my buns off, getting any and every scholarship I could. I decided if I was going to have to slave over something, it might as well be books. I was very good at writing exams. It didn't take long for me to realize I really liked the academic life. When I discovered I could also get adventure along with it, I selected anthropology as my major. Those were exciting times. Then came a big interruption in my life. I was drafted to go to the war that wasn't a war."

"Couldn't you get an exemption?"

"I suppose. I decided instead to give the service a try. Because of my education I was accepted by the Army Air Force, and was trained to fly helicopters. It was a great experience learning to fly. But the fun and games ended when I got to Saigon and was assigned to fly rescue missions, picking up our jet jockeys when they got into trouble. I was lucky. I got back with all my parts. A lot of poor bastards didn't make it."

"I'm surprised you returned to university when you got out."

"I sure wasn't going to stay in the service, and I had my fill of sticking my neck out. Being back with the books suited me just fine."

"How about your wife? When did all that happen?"

"I'm coming to that. My first wife was my languages' professor's daughter. Joyce was a real sweet gal. Popular with everyone. And a good looker to boot. We were in the same philosophy course together. She was a good talker. We used to get together with our professor during lunch breaks and rehash his lectures. I really enjoyed those discussions. Viet Nam and all the things that happened there, soon faded into the past. Not long after we met, we eloped, just before graduation. Joyce dropped out of university and I continued the scholarship route. Unfortunately there wasn't much money left over for the finer things of life. Joyce wanted me to give up my studies and get a teaching job, but I just couldn't do that. I didn't realize it, but she had become a closet drunk while I spent long hours in the books. Her father had been giving her money to help us make it until I got my doctorate. I wouldn't accept his help at the time. Without me knowing it, Joyce was using the money to keep herself in booze."

"What a sad story", said Laura.

"She was her own worst enemy. When I discovered her drinking, I tried to get her some help, but it was no use. I was under terrible pressure both at home and at school. Without realizing it, I gave in, rather than fight it, and we began drinking together, until eventually that was all that mattered. It's like you and Dan. No one likes to admit their life is screwed up, especially when you realize you've done it to yourself. I graduated, but I couldn't get a job because I was a drunk...Oh I got hired, by three different colleges, and every time, my drinking destroyed it all. It was unbelievable how quickly Joyce deteriorated, and eventually had to be institutionalized. Apparently alcoholism had wrecked the lives of several people in her family and no one had told me about it. It was her father who helped me get out of the pit I was in. He was the one who suggested we get a divorce. I felt terrible. It was as if I were betraying my own wife, leaving her like that. But he assured me it would be difficult enough trying to straighten up my own life without having to worry about Joyce too. He said there was no hope for her, and as long as I hung on to her, there was no hope for me. So we were divorced. Shortly after that, Joyce committed suicide. She poisoned herself with rubbing alcohol. I've never been able to get rid of the hurt I felt."

"I'm so sorry Jess," said Laura, her eyes glistening as his story touched her deeply.

"It was a horrible experience believe me. Another professor who had become a close friend told me about AA, and offered to take me to a meeting. At first I resented his intrusion, but I finally realized I couldn't do it alone. That's when I met Martha."

"Did she have a drinking problem too?"

"She sure did. But do you know Laura, from the moment we met, our problems began getting smaller. Martha is a tremendous woman."

"In what way?"

"She's got strength. When it looked like I was slipping she'd pull me up and get me straight."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes, I love her. But I'm not in love with her if you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do".

"My love for Martha is more than just a physical attraction. We're partners, companions, friends. Our love is a life commitment."

"So where does that leave 'being in love' then?"

"That's what I am with you Laura. I'm in love with you."

"Sounds so temporary."

"It will last as long as we choose to make it last."

The passenger compartment was becoming very chilly. Laura asked Santander for a blanket and she wrapped it around herself and Jess. Leaning against his arm she shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Jess studied her beautiful face, wondering how any man could prefer the love of another man over the devotion this wondrous creature was obviously willing to give. He closed his eyes and soon was fast asleep with her.