the office by four.”
I looked at our boarding passes.
Flight 2290.
The same flight.
Wonderful.
After security, Dad sat on a bench to put his shoes back on. He struggled with the left shoelace, so I knelt and helped him.
He usually refused assistance with simple tasks. The fact that he accepted mine told me how shaken he really was.
“He’s on our plane,” I muttered.
“I heard.”
“We’ll be stuck near that awful man for two hours.”
Dad gave me a small smile.
“Hopefully not directly beside him.”
