Page 56 of Melinda's Choice

“So, do it. Or give up and go home.”

I pick up my communicator and laugh nervously. “I don’t even have a drone app on here.”

“It takes a few seconds to download one.”

“Right.”

I tap my screen and set up an app, then book a drone to pick us up in five minutes. I look up at Dwight. “It will be here in five minutes.”

He smiles. “Perfect. Just enough time for me to get myself ready.” He stands and walks out of his office, down the vestibule to a rack of coats by the door. He slips his feet into shoes and pulls on a light jacket. Opening the front door, he gestures to me. “Let’s go.”

We step outside just as the drone arrives, landing in a parking bay before us. My hands become clammy. My insides churn. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I groan.

“That’s alright, I have a bag right here,” Dwight says briskly. He produces a paper bag from his pocket and hands it to me with a smile. “Any time you need to heave, feel free to do so.”

It’s not quite the response I expected, but I take the bag from him anyway, taking deep breaths in and out to try to quell the nausea.

“Shall we?” Dwight asks, pointing at the drone.

I nod and follow him to the vehicle. He opens the door and waits, clearly expecting me to get in first. Sweat rolls off my forehead and the sick feeling gets worse. I hold the bag to my mouth and retch. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.I am doing this. I am doing this.

I look at Dwight, who waits for me with a patient, friendly smile. “You know you can do this, Wyatt.”

I nod. “Ok.” I take another deep breath, and still clutching the bag to my lips, take a first step aboard the drone.I am doing this. Another deep breath, then I lift the other leg and climb inside the drone. I locate a seat and collapse onto it, breaths heaving. I retch into the bag again. Distantly, I’m aware of Dwight getting in beside me and shutting the door.

“Seat belt, Wyatt.”

With shaky hands, I put the bag down and reach over for the safety belt, clipping it on.

“You’re doing great, Wyatt.”

I can’t speak, clutching the paper bag in my hand and holding it to my face. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I feel the engine rumble and then we’re lifting off the ground. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I mumble.

I feel a whoosh as we gain altitude and begin moving forwards. “Oh God.”

“You’re doing just fine, Wyatt.”

I manage to look up into Dwight’s kind brown eyes. I breathe, “I’m ok.”

He smiles. “Yes, you are.”

Throughout the ten minute journey to my house, he engages me in calm, soothing conversation. After a while, I’m able to respond in monosyllables. The nausea never quite goes away, but the paper bag is close to hand any time I feel the need to retch.

Then, it’s time for our descent. As we lose altitude, I bury my face in the paper bag again, breathing in and out in shallow breaths. When we finally land with a light bump, I startle and shout, “Oh God!”

Dwight pats me gently on the arm. “That’s it, Wyatt. Journey’s over. You did it.”

I did it.

“Thanks,” I croak.

He opens the door and steps out. In a daze, I follow him out into the fresh air, taking deep gulps of it in. As soon as we shut the drone door, it flies off, ready to collect its next passenger. Dwight stands beside me with a grin. “Aren’t you going to invite me in for a drink? I could do with a shot of something strong right now. How about you?”

I smile weakly. “That sounds like a good plan.”

I walk up the steps to my townhouse and unlock the door, inviting Dwight in. He follows me to the kitchen where I reach up to take out a bottle of tequila. I hold it out to him. “How about this?”

“Perfect.”

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