Read Excerpt below:

1

Human affairs are always checkered. No one knows this better than Tala Stone, whose mother climbed thirty-three flights of stairs in red stiletto heels. When she made it to the top of the historic Miami Beach’s Hotel Statler, she accessed the rooftop, stood on the ledge, and looked down at the masquerade party she had fled, as her thoughts drowned in the dark ocean afore.

She took the revolver from her purse, put the barrel to her head with such force her fingertips turned white. The moon’s glow reflected off the silver nomenclature. The wind billowed her raven black hair. One drop of sweat ran down her forehead underneath her domino mask.

She pulled the trigger.

Her lifeless body fell forward like a doll tossed out a window. Her gown billowed up as she raced down to meet the earth. She smashed against the pool deck, sending the masked revelers into hysteria. Eight-year-old Tala ambled over amidst the chaos and screams and realized it was her mom who had fallen out of the sky like a ghost, her body askew, her polka dot dress caked with blood, her unmasked face, still beautiful.

Why Yona Stone killed herself remained unknown.

That unanswered question was the catalyst for Tala’s depression, anxiety and nightmares.

Her childhood memories were fogged, but she remembered running to Pleasant Valley, an office festooned with butterflies, and her mother’s smile. She wished she could remember more of mom and less of the masquerade party, but the tragedy replayed in her mind endlessly.

Mom splayed and broken.

She remembered her mom reading her scary Stephen King stories which she oddly loved. When Yona tucked her into bed, she’d smell her neck and give her the usual goodnight kiss on the forehead, whispering, “Goodnight, Little Red Riding Hood,” into her ear.

Every

single

night.

Besides those fragments, nothing else remained. Even her mother’s smile had dissipated with time. She wondered if her mother’s smile was real. Now that she knew the truth.

Happy people don’t kill themselves.

David Stone couldn’t understand why his wife would do such a thing. People brought food, told him it was God’s plan, and said they understood his pain. He opened one of his books and picked a random town on the outskirts of New York. He took Tala to Urbana and left everything behind. Shortly after settling in, David shared his pain, and everyone learned their secret.

He hoped that one day he could make sense of the whole thing and explain why Yona had ended her life to leave them alone forever.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t hers.

At least, that’s what he told himself. 

He suspected the gossip in Urbana must have hit a fever pitch. Nothing interesting had happened in Urbana in thirteen years—since Richard Bachman, drunk off his ass turned off a cliff and went nose first into a fifty-foot ditch that killed him instantly.

Small towns have long memories, and Tala soon became “The girl whose mother killed herself.” Others nicknamed her, “The suicide girl.” David knew in a small town like Urbana, these names would follow her like a dark shadow.

Tala tried to ignore the people who snickered behind her back, but there’s only so much weight a kid could carry. She was growing into an antisocial teenager, her grades were dropping, and Charles O’Conner, the undertaker at Pleasant Valley complained he would often see Tala spread the flowers left at tombstones to other ones that had no flowers. It was considerate in a flower stealing kind of way. But David became concerned with Tala’s off manner.

The memory of the office festooned with butterflies came when she met Dr. Richard Moss, a psychiatrist who had been practicing for many years before he started treating Tala. He had a reputation for using unorthodox methods. It was said he got favorable outcomes.

David ran into a childhood friend at LaGuardia, and that friend handed him the doctors business card and sung his praises. He told David he had quit smoking, lost weight, gotten a promotion, and re-married, all because of him.

Nothing was helping Tala.

David felt he was due for a favorable outcome. 

People told David he should have her talk to someone. Maybe they were right. Maybe Tala needed a professional. Therapists came and went until he found Dr. Moss’s business card in his jacket. Tala met Dr. Moss about a year after Yona’s suicide.

Dr. Moss was a peculiar man who wore ostentatious bowties. He was soft spoken, affable. He looked like a science guy. David guessed he was, to a degree. David liked him from the start. 

***

When nine-year-old Tala walked into Dr. Moss’s office for the first time she was taken aback by his butterfly collection. She had never seen so many butterflies up close before. They were frozen in time, framed on his walls. She could get close. She could almost touch them. Tala ran her fingers on the glass as if bewitched by their beauty. These were real butterflies. Once alive and free. A kaleidoscope of colors. His collection had hundreds, and he had decoratively hung them to form a large butterfly shape.

Tala had never seen something so peculiar and beautiful.  

His wooden desk was spartan save for two butterflies. The first one had beautiful orange and black wings that looked like stained-glass windows, with the scientific name Danaus Plexippus underneath in beautiful cursive letters. Next to it, a white butterfly with black checkered wings, the scientific name Pontia Protodice underneath in the same cursive letters.

She didn’t know why, but she wanted to touch them.

She wanted to go beyond the glass. 

“They’re my favorite,” he said, sitting on his desk, looking down at the frames, pensive. “That’s why I keep them close.” He picked up the orange and black Monarch butterfly.

“Tala, would you like to know something interesting about this butterfly?”

Tala nodded. Wanting to be agreeable. Wondering who this strange man was. He seemed familiar. He had friendly brown eyes, a clear calm voice, and a polka dotted bow tie. Her dad told her he was a doctor, but this wasn’t a hospital.

Dr. Moss put the frame down the same way it had been positioned, turning it so Tala could see it again. 

“Did you know the Monarch butterflies go south during the winter? Their lifespans are so short they die during the voyage. But their offspring grow and continue the voyage south. Did you know that, Tala?”

She shook her head no. 

Dr. Moss appeared to be in a trance.

“It’s amazing,” he said. Looking into the distance. A horizon with a settling sun that was only an office lamp.

“It’s like they’re programmed since birth. They know where to go, even though no one is there to give them directions. It’s in them. It’s extraordinary.”

“Can I leave?” Tala said, parting her dry lips.

“Ah, there’s no place like home,” he said. Suddenly cheery. “You just got here! I guess I can’t make you stay. But before you go, would you like to know one more thing about this butterfly? A secret?”

Tala nodded again. Wanting to be agreeable but wanting to leave more so.

He leaned in closer over the desk.

“My wife Lola loved butterflies.”

He pointed at the wall. “Most of these were hers. I just continued collecting them to… remember her. She got sick. I couldn’t help her. And I’m a doctor. So, I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. To feel bad sometimes. I know it’s hard Tala. So, I want us to be friends. And I want to help you. And if you let me, I will. But you have to trust me.”

He pushed off his desk and pointed at the wall.

“Come take a closer look,” he said.

There were hundreds of butterflies, in different colors, sizes, variations. The frames themselves, arranged like a large butterfly. Tala ambled to the massive wall, examining the butterflies the best she could. She looked up, narrowing her eyes at the butterflies higher on the wall.

She felt two hands come up behind her. Dr. Moss hefted her high into the air. She was startled and yelled, “LET ME GO! LET ME GOOOOOO!”

“Take a look, Tala!” he said. “I can’t hold you forever. You’re thin, but I’m getting old.” Tala jerked and swayed from side to side, trying to break free.

“Let me go!”

Dr. Moss put her down. She ran to the door, turned, and looked at him with disdain. How dare he touch her. David, who waited in the small lobby, went to the door without opening it.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Everything’s fine, Dave. Give us some time.”

David lightly tapped the door. “Red, you okay?”

Dr. Moss nodded as if giving her the answer.

“Yes,” she said.

She had never been more frightened.

“You can trust me,” he said. Then revealed a warm smile. “You’re safe here.”

Tala turned her head but eyed him from the corner of her eye.

“Did you see one you like?”

She looked at him suspiciously.

After a short while, she nodded.

“Which one would that be?”

She pointed at the checkered butterfly.

“A fine choice.” He took the frame from his desk and slowly walked to her. She looked like a scared animal. He hoped she wouldn’t run outside when he got too close.

“Here,” he said. “I want you to have it.”

Tala hadn’t made direct eye contact and was upset he had carried her. She almost took a step toward him. Instead, she bolted out the door.

The open door got David’s attention. He put his coffee and magazine down and stood up.

“Red, what’s the matter—”

“Why did you bring me here? I want to leave,” she said, crying. She was holding on to his leg like a child in a toy store.

David looked at Dr. Moss, who now stood in the doorway of his office. Dr. Moss nodded at him.

“Okay, go wait in the car,” David said. “It’s okay. Go wait in the car, baby.”

She shook her head violently and cried.

***

After Tala finished her shower that night and went into her bedroom, she saw the mysterious Checkered White butterfly frame propped up on her pillow, inside, inscribed in red cursive letters.

You made a fine choice.

I hope to see you again,

Your friend,

Dr. Moss

Tala ran her fingers over the glass, studying the intricacies of the butterflies’ veined wings. She put the frame next to her nightstand, smiled, and went to sleep.

2

When Tala heard the showerhead come on, she crept downstairs with her Mickey Mouse backpack strapped across one shoulder. She saw David drinking from a bottle of whiskey, but she closed the old wooden door quietly, anyway. She took off to Pleasant Valley Cemetery as it began to snow again. After all, David had told her Pleasant Valley was a place where people went when they died, so it made all the sense in the world for Tala to go there.

To be closer to mom.

There was nothing pleasant about a cemetery at night.

Tala strolled now through the graveyard that had tombs, crypts and mausoleums of men and women buried from the Civil War. The cemetery’s land was hemmed in trees, hills and frozen flowers. She passed angel statues three times her size and crosses that looked beautiful yet menacing. She kicked at the snow on the ground to uncover ancient name plaques. She read the names aloud as if she had company, but she had none except for the ravens, who watched her from the Oakwood trees above.

She moved snow off the tombstones that looked like grey thumbs. Her freezing hands revealed names that had been forgotten, and when she spoke these names, some louder than others, the heat her mouth released made her feel like an ice dragon. The more names she read off the tombs, the more she cried, her tears like ice.

Just weeks before she had left her life behind and arrived in Urbana. Her father had knelt in tears and frightened her more than any monster ever could. He gave a loud animalistic wail, hugging her at the waist, she knew then that what she saw was real.

Momma was gone.

Dead.

She was never coming back.

Tala didn’t want to run away; she just wanted things to be as they were but staying in the house made her feel like the walls would suffocate her.

***

The cold shower helped David sober up. He came out of the bathroom calling for Tala. When he saw she was gone, he jumped into his car and drove west on Main Street. His gut told him he’d find her at Pleasant Valley. To his relief, he was right. As he exited the car, he could see her at a distance, kneeling before a peculiar rock that shone with the moonlight and looked like a medieval stone from another time.

It was a ferociously cold night, and snow fell from the heavens. Tala held her palms together, reciting words he couldn’t understand. He stood too far. David took a step closer, careful not to disturb her.

He wanted to hear what she was saying. Her incomprehensible words sounded like a gothic lullaby. Just as he began to make out her words, the ravens squawked from the tall oaks, as they set off flying through the inky sky.

David looked up, startled.

“Why did she die?” Tala said, still on her knees, the wind billowed her red hair. She didn’t turn her head to acknowledge him. She kept her eyes on a large jagged tombstone.

David trudged through the snow and knelt next to her. She turned her head.

David saw she was crying.

“Who will read to me?” she said.

Her father bit down hard on the side of his lip. “I will, kiddo.”

“Why did she die?” she said, her voice high and haunting, snow on her brow.

“I don’t know, baby,” he said. “I don’t know why.”

3

Tala yawned.

Tired from running track, she sunk into Dr. Moss’s leather sofa. She stared at the butterfly frames on the wall and recalled the first time she’d seen them when she was a little girl. She couldn’t believe she had just turned sixteen.

Dr. Moss’s secretary, Frances Gumm, popped her head in.

“Hello, Beautiful. Didn’t see you come in. Cookies?”

Tala smiled. “Homemade?”

“Oh please!” she quipped. “That’s insulting.”

Frances came bobbing her shoulders, dancing to music on her earphones while holding a plate of cookies as gracefully as an experienced waitress. Showing she was in a good mood. She was always in a good mood. Tala didn’t know how that was possible. She took a cookie and bit into the warm familiar taste of fresh dough and chocolate. It melted in her mouth. Tala met Ms. Gumm shortly after Dr. Moss and felt like she was practically her aunt. Frances had been sneaking her sweets, chocolates, and homemade cookies behind his back ever since.

“You’re going to give this child diabetes!” he’d say in good humor. Frances called her every birthday and mailed her handwritten postcards in purple ink from around the country when she traveled. Always ending with a valediction:

I love it here! But there’s no place like home!

Love Frances!

The phone rang.

“See you soon, Honey.” Frances went back to her desk to answer the phone with the same enthusiasm she did coming in.

 Tala loved it here. This was her safe place. It was as if the world stopped when she walked in and closed the door. She was someone else.

Someone strong.  

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry. I was kind of spaced out.” She sat up.

Dr. Moss had his peppered hair slicked back, his skin shined like he had moisturized, and he wore a black and white polka dotted bow tie.

“It’s okay. Lay down. Lay down.” Dr. Moss smiled. “Long practice?”

She nodded.

When something was troubling Tala, she reverted to nodding and shaking her head. As opposed to saying “yes” or “no”. Reminding him of when he first met her as a little girl. She had gotten much better at talking but the process had taken a long, long time.

“I spoke to your dad. He’s ambivalent about the job offer in Miami. He said you don’t want to go.”

She shook her head.

Dr. Moss sat next to her and leaned in. “Go, Tala. Live your life. This is the new chapter you and your dad need. I’ll miss you. But I need you to go. Remember, to learn who you are, sometimes you have to go to the beginning.”

“What about you and Ms. Gumm? What about my meds?”

“We’ll be fine. You haven’t taken your meds in some time. You’ve been taking placebos, Tala. I’ve been weaning you off the medication. It’s time.”

“You have?”

Dr. Moss nodded.

“I’m scared. This town’s all I know,” Tala said.

“Trust me, Tala, everything you want is on the other side of fear. David told me something your mother once said. It always stuck with me. Your mother told him life’s an adventure or it’s nothing. Maybe you’ll even find those wolves,” he said. “Have they visited you again? In your dreams?”

“You mean nightmares,” she said.

“Yes, if you see them that way.”

“The same one.”

He said, “The wolves.”

She nodded.

“Have you seen the white sand beach with lions? You’re happy dream.”

She shook her head.

Not in the least happy she was still having the nightmare. 

“Did it wake you?”

She nodded.

“Well, let’s get to it, Tala.”

She started the same routine of deep breathing exercises. She closed her eyes and listened to his deep voice. She had been doing this since she was nine years old, and she was now sixteen. With that much practice, it became easy to enter a suggestive state of mind. He asked her to count to thirty-three and then back to one. Tala did that a few times. He didn’t swing a pocket watch from side to side like the movies. That would be silly.

“Take me back into your dream,” he said. Dr. Moss dimmed the lights. Tala didn’t notice. Her eyes were closed, and she was already in a faraway place. Inside her nightmare.

Her body became cold.

I don’t like it here, she thought.

“I’m with you, Tala,” he said. As if looking inside her head with a microscope.

“This place scares me,” she said. Her voice cracking from fear.

She had been plagued with dreams of wolves since the masquerade party. Lately, the dreams had become surreal. Nightmares returning with a vengeance. Tala often woke up crying at night, panting for air.

“I’m there,” she said. She tried to force the dream out of her mind. To materialize the white sand beach with lions but it was no use. The nightmare always won.

She was standing somewhere high, between the clouds. On some sort of balcony. Over a dark rainbow. The haze from the clouds looked like smoke or fog or maybe death.

It was raining.

“What do you see?” Dr. Moss pressed. “Tell me everything you sense…”

“I feel cold. I’m wearing a white blouse. I can smell sulfur or burned wood. The air is smoky.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m afraid.”

“I know, Tala. But where are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m in a forest. There’s trees everywhere.”

“Are you alone?”

Her eyes blinked rapidly underneath the curtain of her eyelids. She could see someone.

“There’s someone here.”

“No. Tala. It’s just you. There’s no one here…”

She shifted in her chair. Her eyes remained closed.

Something was coming toward her. It looked like dogs. When they got closer, she could see they were wolves. They ran past her.

“The wolves are back.”

“How many?”

Dr. Moss began jotting notes.

“I don’t know. A pack… They’re so big. There’s a girl too.”

“What girl?”

Tala had never mentioned a girl.

Dr. Moss continued to write notes inside his notebook.

“Oh my God. She’s so little. She’s running around, playing. She’s biting her hand. Where are her parents?” The wolves saw her.

Tala began to pant. She took deep breaths. Her eyes remained closed.

“Who is this girl, Tala?”

“I don’t know. She’s small,” she raised her voice, panting. “She doesn’t see them. Where are her parents?  My God. They have yellow eyes, sharp fangs. They’re running toward her. The wolves cut through the fog.

Tala yelled STOP at the top of her lungs.

“Are you there? Tala listen to me. Are you there?” Dr. Moss said.

“NO!” she cried. “I don’t know. I’m too far. I’m there, but I’m too far.”

She hyperventilated. Struggling for air.

“Do something,” Dr. Moss said.

“I’m running to her.”

“Can you save the girl?”

“They’re so big. I don’t have a weapon. I don’t have a stick. There’s nothing. They’re gonna kill her. I don’t have a weapon.”

The wolves gained ground. She ran as fast as she could, but she couldn’t save the girl. The wolves were on her. She was a rag doll. They tore her to pieces. There was blood everywhere. She could see it even in the darkness. Tala knew when she woke up that there was something inherently wrong with her.

4

David Stone tried hard to cope despite his wife’s suicide. He found himself drinking, smoking, and taking long walks in reverie. He talked to Tala less and less. Looking at her brought him pain because she had her mother’s blue eyes. David became a wanderer who contemplated the point of life.

He didn’t think he could go on. The only light remaining in his miserable life was his love for Tala and the sky. He had to be strong for her. He tried his best. Before he took notice of his deteriorating health and depression, other people did. Primarily at work, and before long, people began to gossip.

David found himself drinking at the airport bars after his flights. But that drinking sometimes carried on for hours and on some occasions even until the airport closed. It looked bad. He didn’t notice. He didn’t seem to care. Would-be flyers didn’t feel comfortable seeing a pilot in uniform drinking at a bar. Word spread like wildfire. The FAA opened an investigation into David’s drinking habits. They followed and observed him for two weeks. Different day. Same routine.

David had found solace in drinking. If he was flying or not was irrelevant. He’d have a cup of whiskey with a shot of sprite. Once he started it was hard to stop. David had found alcohol to be the only barrier that could help him cope with the fact that his wife killed herself and his daughter was estranged. He felt lost, and only alcohol brought him to the dream state where his wife and daughter would co-exist.

John Palmer, the FAA’s lead investigator on the case, reviewed several complaints of David Stone drinking before his flights. Palmer was a tall black man who dressed impeccably. His clothes were always pressed, and his shoes were always shining. He took great pride in everything he did, especially his work. It was his job to ensure pilots maintained integrity and responsibility when flying. So many lives could be jeopardized because of David’s alcoholism. Palmer’s plan was simple. He’d make an example out of David. Palmer knew about Yona’s death. He had read the police report.

Cause of death: Suicide.

Palmer reasoned her suicide was the primary reason why David, a reputable pilot for years, had become an irresponsible drunk. Palmer empathized with him more than the average Joe would. His son Toby killed himself at nineteen. Toby was tall, dark, and handsome with a bright future. But he was gay. When someone hacked his phone and posted explicit photos of him on the web, he became a constant target and fell into a downward spiral of depression and drug use. He ate a gun shortly after at a nearby park. Palmer understood the detrimental effects of suicide on a family. His own son had died damnit. But he had a job to do.

He’d allow David his drinking routine, so when they detained him on board, he’d be forced to blow into a breathalyzer and the evidence would be irrefutable.

His team had begun to compile surveillance video and sworn testimony from bartenders. Palmer liked his investigations to be tight. With Palmer in charge, Urbana Airlines could fire David without him having a chance of getting his job back through arbitration.

David walked across the terminal. Agents watched his every move. Several agents manned the surveillance cameras from the security portal of the airport waiting for him to sit at one of the airport bars. A different one every time, drinking until he felt numb. David winked and told the bartenders he was “off the clock.” No one questioned him. Maybe because they felt it was his responsibility not to drink and fly or maybe because he always left a generous tip. Either way, it’s easy to look the other way when you profit.

As David walked past the terminals, he saw people from all nationalities. Young, old. Happy, sad. Married couples laughing together, going on honeymoons. Some traveling for work or visiting relatives. That sense of family made him long for Yona. Two FAA agents conducting floor surveillance followed him in civilian clothing. They kept their distance from him, but they knew he suspected nothing.

Today is the takedown.

David comes to work and never comes back.

His face plastered on the news, his career over.

David made it to a small sports bar where Anderson Cooper was on the flat screen TV with a CNN Breaking News Alert. David didn’t watch much television, but he was a sucker for Breaking News Alerts. Cooper’s face looked grave as he reported of an active shooter at Caulfield Academy in Seneca, Kansas.

The screen split and showed a helicopter angle of students running out of the school being escorted by police officers and SWAT team members. Four confirmed dead.

Jesus. It never stops.

The shooting had gone viral as patrons started checking their mobile devices and tweeting on the crisis. 

He leaned across the bar, trying to grab the bartender’s attention, who was doing some leaning of his own, face first into a de-Christianized Southern girl’s cleavage. The seats next to David were vacant but across from him sat several nervous fliers who wouldn’t think to get on a plane if not for the companionship of Jack and Johnny. Their eyes glued to CNN.

The bartender made eye contact with David.

David held up his hand. “Give me a second.”

His cell phone was going off. It must’ve been important. Tala was at school, and no one called him much these days. He didn’t recognize the number. He stood up, told the bartender to hold again and answered.

“David speaking.”

“Listen closely, Mr. Stone. Sit down for as long as you usually do. Order a tonic and lime. And when you’re done with that one. Have another. Don’t change anything in your routine today.”

“Who is this? What are you talking about?”

“This phone call never happened.”

“Excuse me? Who is this?”

“Who I am is not important. There are two FAA agents on the floor watching your every move. Not to mention a dozen surveillance cameras. I hope you get your second chance. Good luck.”

“Who is this? Why are you doing this?”

The caller hung up.

David swallowed what felt like a cotton ball in his mouth.

Nothing about the voice sounded familiar. David didn’t dare look back. He sat down. The bartender came over smiling, telling the girl to wait. He looked at David with a look that said:

Hurry up. I’m trying to get laid over here.

“Tonic and lime,” David said. “Keep ‘em coming.”

David drank about seven tonic and limes. Paid the bill. Got up and scanned around, looking for two potential agents as discreetly as he could. It could’ve been a prank call, he reasoned. He saw the regular function of the airport.

His gut told him something was in motion. He went to his terminal, scanned his I.D., and boarded Urbana Airlines 711. His first flight of the day was scheduled from New York to Jacksonville, and he wondered if he’d make it down there today. As soon as he stepped on the plane, Stacy, a flight attendant he knew well, gave him an uneasy look. Two agents who had been sitting in first class stood up.

“What’s going on?” David said, looking at Stacey.

“Mr. Stone. I’m Agent Johnson.” He flipped open his FAA ID like on one of those cop shows.

“You need to come with us.”

“What’s the matter?” he said. Stacy and another flight attendant were eyeing him, and the early boarders in first class were staring.

“We need you to come with us,” the other agent said.

“I’m scheduled to Jacksonville.” 

“Mr. Stone, we’re not asking you again. We need you to blow into a breathalyzer.”

“Excuse me?” he said. “What for?”

He knew there would be no alcohol in his system.

“You’re under arrest. Turn around.”

“Are handcuffs really necessary? I’m a pilot, not a murderer.”

“No,” Agent Johnson said. “They’re not really necessary, but I want to make sure everyone gets a good look at you.”

“So, you get off on this?” David said.

“I’m not in the business of underestimating people.”

“I don’t deserve this. This is a mistake.”

Agent Johnson cuffed him with his hands behind his back. “You’re a drunk.”

They walked him off the plane.

“My wife died,“ David said.

Agent Johnson, who walked a little ahead, stopped. “Hold it, guys.”

He pressed his index finger into David’s chest. “I’m aware about your wife, Mr. Stone. I know she killed herself too. I’m sorry she did, but if you don’t get yourself under control, someone else’s wife, brother, sister, mother, daughter, son, uncle is going to die. Because you can’t get it together.” The agent raised his voice. People stopped to watch.

“You don’t know what I’ve been through. Screw you,” David said.

Agent Johnson pulled him by the elbow through the terminal and out to the lobby of the airport where thousands of people could see him. Johnson took him to the security office at a leisurely pace. David saw some old friends, people who once came to his house to barbecue and have beers. He tried to stop and look away. Pretend he wasn’t in cuffs. Pretend this wasn’t happening.

“You brought this on yourself,” Agent Johnson said.

Two NYPD officers were waiting in the security office with several agents.

John Palmer entered the room and introduced himself to everyone, then sat down and faced David. He requested the officers change David’s handcuffs to the front so he’d be more comfortable. The officers obliged.

“David, I’m sorry. You need help. You won’t be flying anymore. These officers will be transporting you to NYPD headquarters for DUI processing.”

The problem, of course, was that there wasn’t a drop of alcohol in David’s system. Today, he was free and clear, and that mysterious phone call saved his job and had put him in a legal position of advantage where he could now sue for defamation of character.

“I’m not drunk,” David said.

Palmer leaned forward, “Do I look like a fool to you? You’ve been drinking for hours. We’ve been watching you for weeks. You’re drunk, and your flying days are over. You can take it up with the arbitrator but believe me. What we have is solid. You’re finished, David.” Agent Palmer leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. It’s my job. Nothing personal.”

“I’ve been through hell—” David started saying.

“I understand about your wife.”

David yelled at Palmer, “Don’t you ever mention her, you coon!”

Agent Palmer said, “I didn’t peg you for a racist.”

David’s screams had turned into a long hideous cry.

Looking up at Palmer, he said, “I’m not a racist. I’m nothing.”

Palmer asked the NYPD officers to step out for a moment. Agent Johnson stayed behind but Palmer signaled him to escort them. When everyone stepped out of the office, Palmer came closer to David and whispered, “You’re lucky I owed someone a favor. I hope you enjoyed your tonic and lime. When you leave this place, remember I’m the coon that saved your career. I’m the coon that called you to give you a second chance. I hope you fix your life David; you won’t get a second bite of the cherry.”

Agent Palmer walked out of the room.

David covered his face with his hands.

He wanted to apologize.

He wanted to say sorry.

But he said nothing.

5

When Tala saw the 757 Boeing that would soar her through the skies, she felt her stomach hollow as she looked outside the large panel windows of the airport and out at the planes rolling in line for their next chance at the sky. Tala closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm her rising anxiety.

David came back from the kiosk with a New Yorker magazine and sat next to her, keeping his eyes on the pages. Tala wanted to say something but decided not to; her dad had a look about him, a certain intensity, when he focused, and she knew he wouldn’t pay attention now. She studied his narrow eyes and thin silver spectacles. His customary neat-trimmed beard was rough and unkempt, unlike him.

David said something as they walked through the terminal and boarded the plane, but his voice sounded hazy, like a broken television. Tala’s fear spread down her legs and up her arms as she walked down the aisle looking for her seat. She opted for the window seat despite her fear of heights, hoping to face them head on. She wanted to be brave, but the sound from the engine wrapped its arms around her neck, choking her. She gasped for air and found less and less. Her ears got hot, and her palms started to perspire.

The chirpy flight attendant commented on the temperature over the loudspeaker. Tala sat up in her chair and took a deep breath, then another, reverting to Dr. Moss’s breathing exercises, trying to find the rhythm. The airline played a safety video featuring a robotic American Airlines stewardess who gave safety instructions to bring people a false sense of security. To make passengers believe if the steel bird decided to nosedive like a roller coaster, there was something you could do; use your seat as a floating device.

Fat chance.

What about the height?

David stowed his carryon into the overhead bin.

“Ready for the Sunshine State,” he said, sounding more cheery than usual. Tala ignored him and unlocked her iPad. Her attention fixed on the glass screen. She played a movie she found in her library. She didn’t remember downloading it, but she had bootlegged so many movies it was hard to keep up.

Return to Oz.

“Did you download this movie?” Tala turned the iPad screen to her dad.

David shook his head. “I’ve yet to figure that out. You should try watching movies on TV or better yet, in theaters, you know, with other people…”

“I’ll try that sometime.” She wanted to get her mind off the thought that she was going to be lifted thousands of miles in the air.

She put on her earbuds and hit play.

Urbana’s a small country town where everyone knew each other’s business. Tala had a hard time making real friends there. She knew people on the track team, but those friendships never solidified. She never trusted them after she heard Carrie, one of her teammates, call her ‘the suicide girl’ in the locker room.

High school girls could be the cruelest beasts on earth. Part of her wanted to leave. Part of her didn’t. She looked forward to a new life without everyone knowing her past. Urbana was all she knew; how could she leave Dr. Moss and Ms. Gumm behind? They were like family. The non-judgmental ones, who listened (albeit they were paid).

When her dad broke the news about his new job in Miami, she tried to convince him to drive down, but David saw it as an opportunity for Tala to face her fears.

Tala paused the movie, resting the iPad on her lap. “Dad, is this the right thing for us?”

“What do you mean?” he said, cleaning his silver eyeglasses with a fiber cloth.

“Leaving.”

“It’s time to move on, Red,” he said.

Tala couldn’t focus on the movie, so she stowed her iPad in her carryon bag and stared out the oval window at the concrete runway now covered with snow. She looked at the men in their reflective vests hauling luggage into the aircraft.

David put a hand on her knee. “You okay?”

“You know I hate planes.”

“You used to play with my collection of toy models when you were a kid.”

“Your toy planes didn’t lift me 10,000 feet into the air.”

David smiled.

“Don’t laugh. You know I hate heights,” she said.

“You’ve flown more than anyone your age. You used to ride these things like nothing. You used to love it.”

“Things change,” she said stubbornly.

“That they do. But it’s going to be fine. Switch with me.” Tala was lost for a second, but she realized he meant to switch seats. She decided it wouldn’t make a difference. Wasn’t her seat a floating device? She looked away. David went back to the New Yorker cartoons.

The flight attendant, who sounded like she had one too many espressos came over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen, Captain Carroll has turned on the Fasten Seat Belt sign. If you haven’t already done so, please stow your carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front—”

It was really going to happen. This pressurized metal tube created by God knows who was going to fly her thirty thousand feet, God knows how, to a place she’d left as a kid, God knows why. Her anxiety drowned out the rest of the announcements until she heard a somewhat fragile voice on the loudspeaker.

“This is your Captain speaking. This will be my first flight…” he said timidly. Tala looked at her father. His face was calm. She looked around anxiously at other passengers and felt a layer of unease. “Of the day…” the pilot said in good humor. The passengers laughed.

“That’s one of the oldest pilot jokes,” David said.

“Not funny,” she said.

The pilot said a few other announcements that brought mild laughter, but Tala had drowned him out again with her earbuds.

She braced herself as the plane started rolling on its wheels like a ride at the fair. It completed a 360-degree turn. Tala’s heart barked like a ravenous dog inside a cage; she braced herself for takeoff. She put her hand on her chest and felt her heart beating posthaste. She was sweating profusely and felt a wash come over her, depleting her of energy. She was having a heart attack. 

David leaned in. “You okay? You’re pale.”

Beads of sweat formed over her lips.

She didn’t respond. Her skin damp, her left side went numb and her hands shook uncontrollably. She felt a tingle on the left side of her face.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” she managed.

Tears built up in her eyes and ran down her face when she blinked. Her nose started bleeding.

David stood and waved the flight attendant over. “Something’s wrong. Hurry!”

Tala’s vision dimmed to black.

6

A paramedic stood over Tala, reading her vital signs. He examined her pupils with a tiny flashlight. When he was satisfied, he pulled the cuff off her arm, then removed a small plastic clip from her index finger.

“You okay, kiddo?” he said.

Tala nodded. She fought through grogginess, which made her feel like she’d taken an excess of her prescription medication.

He told David, “Her numbers are stable.”

He asked Tala, “How are you feeling? Know what day it is?”

“What happened?” Tala started to get her bearings and realized she had fainted again.

“What day is it, hun?” the medic asked her.

“Friday.”

The medic smiled at David. “Best day of the week.”

“Her vitals are good. But we can take her to the hospital and have a doctor look.” Something in his voice suggested this was nothing. Medics at airports had frequent calls of nervous flyers whose nerves got the best of them. The medic handed David a form.

“What’s this?”

“Waiver. Your autograph says we provided care and don’t want her transported to the hospital.” Tala hated hospitals.

“I’m fine,” she said. It had been weeks since her last panic attack. This was a bad omen.

David glanced at the form and signed.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” he blurted.

“Really David, you know I hate flying.”

David handed the waiver back to the paramedic.

“She has a condition. Her doctor, I guess her old doc, said they’re panic attacks induced by anxiety.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. It’s common here. No foaming to indicate a seizure or something more serious. But it’s up to you, we can take her.” The medic took a deep breath, like he’d given this spiel many times. “Flying is a scary business. For most folks, anyway.”

David would never understand that. He loved the sky since he was a boy. Flying put food on the table.

Tala put her hand on her chest as if to check if her heart was still there. “Why did it feel like a heart attack this time?”

“Sweetie, you’re a little young for a heart attack,” The paramedic chuckled. “But mind the French fries just in case.” He winked at her.

David uncrossed his arms. He shook the medic’s hand.

“Thank you.”

The medic gave Tala a pat on the back. “You’ll be okay, sweetie. Remember Kennedy; nothing to fear but fear itself.”

That was a great quote. One she really liked. But she didn’t remember things turning out great for Kennedy. She wasn’t even sure he had said that.

Anxiety made Tala feel out of control, like a car hydroplaning on ice. After her mother died, she got the big three, random anxiety attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts. The doctors called it the dark triad. The trio made her feel sick to her stomach, like she had swallowed a helium balloon and she was floating up, staring down at a person she didn’t remember.  

Tala sat up off the gurney, feeling nauseous, her blood rushing to her head, making her feel lightheaded. 

David picked up his cell phone. He chirped away with her. Tala knew it was her, his new girlfriend, because he changed his voice when she called. When she got her bearings, she left the hospital ward of the airport and sauntered back to her gate to look outside the large panel windows again and out at the runway, knowing the plane she had boarded was now in the sky.

David walked up behind her and softly tugged her red hair.

“Can you do me a favor and not walk off when I’m on the phone? You’re going to give me a heart attack.” He looked at her blue eyes. She was a reflection of her mother. At least she had his freckles. He attributed their recent fights to teenage rebellion. He loved her so much. He rustled his fingers through her hair.

“C’mon, sport, we’re due for a road trip anyway,” he said.

Tala felt guilty for making this harder than it had to be.

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

“Yeah, I know how much you love traffic,” she said.

“I’ll be okay.” David smiled.

David wasn’t looking forward to thousands of miles of concrete foliage on the road. But he had no choice. It was time to move on and leave Urbana for good. He sued Urbana Airlines and the N.Y.P.D for false arrest, libel, and defamation of character, and as Donald Trump would say, the settlement was HUGE! He got a less than glamorous job flying cargo for Dotted Blue. Because what else was he going to do? He was only in his mid-forties. He remembered leaving Miami all those years ago when the officers came knocking on his door.

Sir, I regret to inform you…but your wife…

Yes, he had decided to leave Miami for good. He couldn’t stay in their same house, in their same bed. There were too many things that reminded him of Yona and the pain was too much to bare. It was all so sudden. Now he was done with Urbana, it has served its purpose.

Sir, I regret to inform you…but your wife…

After his arrest, he knew it was time. The lawsuit was the icing on the cake.

Tala needed a fresh start.

This was their chance.

David had lived in Hialeah as a kid and took a liking to airplanes as a young boy when his father took him to Opa-Locka Airport to watch the planes take off and land. David would never forget the roar of those engines and how the ground seemed to move. That place filled him with hope. Maybe he’d take Tala there sometime.

David purchased a chic two story house in an affluent South Florida neighborhood called Miami Springs. He didn’t show Tala pictures of the house because he wanted to surprise her. On the road, Tala told him she watched Return to Oz, which she thought was too dark for kids. She also read half of The Catcher in the Rye, but mainly slept.

Sir, I regret to inform you…but your wife…

David followed the I-95 signs south, hoping this was the right move for them.

The drive was long and uneventful. They stopped every few hours or so to use the bathroom, stretch, eat. Nothing but concrete and foliage. David glanced at her in the passenger seat of the rental. Tala had propped a pillow against the window, her seatbelt fastened. This was their second day on the road, and they had just crossed the Georgia-Florida line. Eight hours later, they were in the heart of David’s hometown; Hialeah, or as David called it, the prairie.

Tala stretched out and yawned. “Where are we?”

“This is Hialeah.”

“Hia-what?”

“Hia-leah, where I grew up. Remember? it means High Prairie,” he said, never taking his eyes off the road. “We lived here for a bit.”

“How come I don’t remember?”

“It was a long time ago.” David said.

“Are we close?”

“We’re very close,” he said. “You know, if you ever want to go to Angels of Mercy, to see your mom. I can—”

“No. I’m not ready to go there,” Tala said curtly.

David’s eyes went back to the road. “My God,” he said. “So much traffic now.” He wasn’t in bumper to bumper traffic—yet—but he didn’t want to imagine rush hour.

“Why are there so many street vendors?” Tala asked.

***

Tala saw Hispanic vendors selling roses and sunflowers out of the trunks of their cars at the corners of intersections. They adorned paint buckets with yellow sunflowers, or red roses. Some vendors sold lemons or bottled water and walked up and down the street during red lights.

“It’s a little different here. But hey! No more shoveling snow.”

Tala sensed false excitement in his voice. She adjusted her seat to an upright position. Hoping to relieve some of the soreness from her lower back. She took in this new world.

David drove south on East 4 Avenue at what felt like a snail’s pace. Urbana’s nearest car sometimes wouldn’t be seen for miles. He had adjusted to that life and had forgotten the fast city life. Although in traffic, it never felt very fast. Occasional honks made him irritable. He felt nostalgic as he drove adjacent to the Hialeah Racetrack. Its pink deteriorating cursive sign hadn’t been replaced.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Tala said, knowing her father was annoyed. David put on an AM radio station as revenge.

He drove south, exiting the Hialeah city limits, and felt the sense of nostalgia brew as he got to Okeechobee Road. He crossed the Curtiss Parkway Bridge, over the alligator-infested canal that divided Miami Springs and Hialeah. He yielded right at the roundabout that was called Circle Drive. The roundabout had the local Starbucks, gym, hair salons, barbershops, mom and pop restaurants, a diner called The Cozy Corner, and even a small independent bookstore called Happenstance. This town was nothing like Hialeah.

Clean. Rich. Picturesque.

It looked like a toy town.

Tala loved the green running path on Curtiss Parkway. Rowed with tall shade trees, benches, and a place to park your car, not that she had one yet. She saw ubiquitous red and blue political banners depicting a foxy woman with a crew cut sporting an ultra-white politician’s smile.

VOTE

EMMA SOSA!

FOR MAYOR

IF IT AIN’T BROKE DON’T FIX IT!

“I guess it’s an election here,” she said.

“Guess so.”

David made a left on Deer Run, and she saw it for the first time, a large acreage of high unkempt grass, some patches green, some brown, burned from the sun. As if God had taken a magnifying glass to examine the land and forgotten the sun was behind Him.

She saw tall oak trees, old and strong, with ravenous roots and vines in a heavily dense area. And beyond that, in the distance, she saw the facade of the Curtiss Mansion. An enormous three-story Spanish villa house made of red clay. Half standing, half destroyed. Like a wrecking ball had smashed into its side and given up. The mansion sat at the center of the acreage, apart from all civilization. There must have been a football field in each direction that eventually kissed a tall black iron fence. Making this a sequestered place.

“What’s that?” Tala said, pointing at the Curtiss Mansion.

“That would be a house,” her father replied.

“I know it’s a house, Dad.”

David eased on the brakes to take a better look. The trees seemed to have quadrupled in size since he last saw them.

David lowered the radio station and pulled over, parking before the mansion. The nose of his rental car only feet away from the black wrought iron gate. The house stood there. Staring back at them.

“The Curtiss Mansion,” he said. “My God, it’s still here. I used to sneak in here when I was a kid. No one talked about it much, except for us. It’s like the black sheep of this pasture.”

“Why? Who lived there?”

“A great man who went crazy,” he said, then stepped out of the car and lit a cigarette.

“Since when do you smoke?” 

David realized his folly. He didn’t want Tala to know he was smoking again.

“Just the last couple of months. Here and there. You know, with work, the arrangements to come over here, leaving Urbana. It’s helped with stress,” he said.

“Smoking causes cancer. Remember?”

David said, “You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said. “I don’t smoke.”

“Spare me. I know things have been rough between us, and I haven’t been dad of the year by any means. I was your age once. I’m trying here. I want to fix things. You’re my daughter and I love you. Can we just not lie to each other?” He sounded exhausted when he said it. Like he was tired of the old. Like something had to give.

He took a deep drag. The cigarette paper burned orange and red, becoming shorter. Ashes stacked up; her father’s lungs turned black with every puff. That unkempt beard. He looked like a different man.

Tala rubbed the side of her neck. Realizing the car ride had given her a cramp.

“This is a new start for us. Deal?” he said.

“Whatever.”

Her father gave her a stern look.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Her dad exhaled. He passed her the cigarette.

“What are you—” she said.

“No more lies.”

Tala hesitated, but then took the cigarette from him. She held it like someone who had smoked all her life. Graceful. She took a puff, “You happy?”

“No,” he said, “but it’s a start. I’m not an idiot. I know you’ve smoked. I rather you don’t.”

David looked at the mansion again. “It’s kind of surreal being here. This place scared the crap out of me when I was a kid.” He leaned on the hood. Tala sat next to him. She too kept her gaze on the abandoned mansion built of adobe rock.

The mansion listened intently to their conversation. The wind came fast and swift. Trees in the distance whispered secrets no human being should hear. The sun hid behind a cloud, darkness fell on the mansion’s bed of grass like it had two faces.

“When I was a kid, everyone said that this place was haunted. You see that dense area over there? We used to call it The Sea of Trees. That was no man’s land.” He took another drag from the cigarette, tossed it to the ground, and stomped it.

He pointed at her. “You’re done smoking, by the way.”

Tala rolled her eyes.

“Please tell me you don’t believe in haunted houses,” she said.

David said, “I did when I was a kid, but I also believed in Santa and the Tooth Fairy.” He came off the hood and grabbed the gate—

“Ouch.” He pulled his hand away. “Static,” he said.

Tala chuckled.

He held the gate again, pensive.

“Bad things happened here. The man who lived here is a legend. Can’t take that away. He was a genius aviator who dropped out of school. He founded this town and Hialeah when it was nothing but a backward swamp. He’s one of the reasons I became a pilot. But he committed a horrible crime. The only reason it hasn’t met the wrecking ball is because the city voted and turned it into a historic site.

“What did he do?”

A gust of wind ran a cold chill through Tala’s body, giving her goosebumps.

David turned on his heels and opened the car door.

“How about we see our new house?”

“What was the crime? What did he do?” Her eyes on the mansion. In awe of the sheer size of it. David saw she made no attempt to get into the car. He knew his daughter enough to know she wouldn’t leave until he said it.

“He killed his wife and children.”

“How?”

“Burned them alive.”

The sun lingered behind thick clouds, allowing the darkness to seep to the other part of the mansion’s bed of grass, now one large black mask.

“Get in the car. This place gives me the creeps.”