“He retired suddenly,” I said. “One day he was talking about schedules. A few months later he was done. He said he’d had enough.”
The attendant looked at me strangely.
“That’s not what I heard.”
I turned toward her.
“What did you hear?”
A call button chimed farther down the cabin.
She looked over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I need to get that.”
Then she walked away.
I nearly laughed from frustration.
Benjamin had stopped rocking as hard.
He held the airplane close to his chest.
Across the aisle, the man watched us.
“What is he, some kind of airline royalty now?”
I ignored him.
For the next 20 minutes, I couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel.
He had retired 17 years earlier.
I’d believed him when he said he was tired of missing birthdays, dinners, ordinary evenings.
But I remembered the timing.
Our daughter had been having a terrible year.
She’d been overwhelmed, barely sleeping, struggling to manage work and raising a small child after her marriage fell apart. Daniel had suddenly become available for everything.
