The Art of Crash Landing Read Online Free PDF Page A

this I see Min He warming up on a speech regarding my promises to pay back loans, but before she can get started I turn and walk to Queeg’s trailer. He follows me inside.
    â€œIs there any way I can stop you from doing this?”
    â€œNope.” I get my toothbrush from the bathroom and pick up yesterday’s underwear off the floor.
    He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re a force of nature, Matt.”
    â€œWhat? Like gravity?”
    â€œMore like an earthquake.”
    I brush past Queeg, walk back out of the trailer and down the steps, heading toward my car.
    My stepfather is right behind me. “A hurricane.”
    â€œOh, come on—”
    â€œTornado, tsunami—”
    â€œOkay, okay. I’m a disaster. I get the picture.” I toss my stuff in the car and then walk back to Queeg. He’s standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s acting like he’s angry, but I recognize it for what it is. He’s worried.
    â€œI’m going, and that’s that,” I tell him. “I know exactly what I’m doing.” That’s a lie, and he knows it, but I can see in his face that I’ve won. Even Captain Queeg can’t stop a hurricane.
    Instead, he gives me a wry half-smile and says, “Your lips are moving.”
    And then there’s one of those uncomfortable silences where we both realize that a Hallmark-card moment is just around the corner unless somebody acts fast.
    â€œI’d better get going,” I say. “And if Nick comes by looking for me, don’t tell him where I’ve gone, okay?”
    Queeg sighs again and shuffles his white old-man sneakers in the gravel. “I have a bad feeling about this, Matt.”
    When he looks up and his gaze meets mine, I take a moment to study my stepfather, the slight sheen of sweat on his skin even though the morning is cool, the way his cheeks have gone from lean to sunken, his wracking cough that rattled through the trailer all night. Maybe he should save one of his bad feelings for himself.
    â€œNever put off until tomorrow what you can do today. It’s one of your favorites, Queeg.”
    He’s shaking his head.
    â€œI’ll be fine,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a couple days.”
    He opens his arms, and I step inside. His familiar smell—wool and menthol cigarettes and Old Spice aftershave—makes my throat ache. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning,” I promise.
    He doesn’t reply so I pull back and look up at his face. He’s not looking at me; he’s looking at Min He. “Make it tomorrow afternoon,” he says.
    â€œWhat’s going on tomorrow morning?”
    â€œJust another damn doctor’s appointment.”
    I’m not worried until I glance over at Min He. For once I see an expression on her face that’s something other than rage. It’s fear.
    I take a step back. “ Another appointment?”
    â€œIt’s nothing.”
    â€œDefine nothing .”
    â€œEverything is fine,” he says, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Would I lie to you?”
    If he thought the truth would hurt me, the answer to that is yes .
    I glance over again at Min He. She’s staring at me, expectantly. This is when a good daughter says she’s not leaving, that she’ll stay in town and drive him to his appointment tomorrow, she’ll sit inthe waiting room, later she’ll go with him to talk to the doctor, to get the results. To hear the bad news.
    We exchange glances, Min He, Queeg, and I. All of us know the truth of the situation. For all his bluster, Queeg wants me to stay. Maybe he needs me to stay. I feel a thick panic rising in my chest.
    I open my car door and climb inside. “So, I’ll call tomorrow afternoon.” I pitch my voice to sound breezy, hoping Queeg will play along.
    He does. “It’s a plan,” he says with a smile. He’s always been