

It’s Tuesday morning, and Brett’s back in his office.
The morning flew by since Brett spent time reading articles on the AOPA’s website.
Then Brett ate lunch at Bandito’s restaurant with a coworker.
“Bruce, I had three more of those dreams the last two nights,” Brett said, eyes sparkling.
“You mean the ones on being a pilot during World War One?” Bruce asked.
“I saw myself in this dream. I’m a handsome young man with a mustache and black hair parted down the middle.”
“I thought you were growing a mustache?” Bruce asked.
“I did, but she made me shave it off,” Brett replied, rubbing his upper lip.
“Anything else happened in that dream?”
“Oh yes! It was cool. I bought my airplane. A Curtis Jenny,” he replied.
“How long has it been since you had the last one of these dreams?”
Brett thought for a few seconds. “Six months. I still can’t figure out why they started during college. I had a few just before I had a blind date with Dorian. Then they stopped after we became an item and started again immediately after Robbie died.”
“In the recent dream, what happened after you bought the airplane?”
“I took off from the farmer’s field and headed north. Then, the engine of my plane quit when I was south of Columbus. I landed in a field. Then I got a ride into Columbus from a young woman,” Brett said.
“Columbus, Indiana?”
“Yeah,” Brett replied.
“And you met a young woman? This is starting to sound very interesting,” Bruce said.
“Nothing happened with her. She dropped me off at a hotel, then later, I walked around town. I went inside an ice cream parlor and met another beautiful woman. That encounter had ice cream dumped on my shirt,” Brett said with a smile.
“What happened next?” Bruce asked.
“Abby woke me up, and I heard Dorian snoring,” Brett said.
“So, it turned into a nightmare?” Bruce said, chuckling.
“Yeah, very frightening,” Brett chuckled.
“There has to be a meaning behind these dreams.”
Brett thought for a second. “Yeah. My marriage sucks, and I need to get a better life.”
“Speaking of which, how’s the plan going with leaving Dorian?” Bruce asked.
“I’ve been able to horde money into a savings account Dorian hasn’t discovered yet. But as soon as I land a job out of the area, I’ll ask for a divorce. It looks like I will have an interview with Sky King Aviation down in Columbus in two weeks,” Brett said.
“How will you pull off a trip down there?” Bruce asked.
“I haven’t figured that out just yet.”
Bruce’s eyes widened when he figured something out
“Wait, no wonder you dreamt about Columbus. You have an interview down there,” Bruce suggested.
“That makes sense.”
“How do you think she’s going to take divorce?” Bruce asked.
“She believes in the until death do us part. And with her collection of pistols and her marksman skill, she might do it. But Sidney should be happy since he’s always hated me for getting Dorian knocked up in college.”
“Those shotgun weddings can be romantic,” Bruce joked.
“Especially with my father and Sidney pointing double barrels at me,” Brett replied.
“I really can’t picture Dorian being easy. A prude maybe, but never easy,” Bruce said.
“She was a fun girl when I first met her in college. She could party with the best of them. But man, did she change after we got married,” he said.
“It was Robbie that made life enjoyable,” Brett added. He took a sip of water and wiped away a tear.
“If you don’t mind me asking, when was the last time you had sex with Dorian?”
“We’ve had a very sexless marriage. Probably about eight times total, most of that was in college,” Brett recalled.
“Yep, it’s time you divorce her before your thingy shrivels up and falls off,” Bruce said, followed by a light chuckle.
Brett nodded in agreement with a light chuckle.
Meanwhile, he sat at his desk in Sidney’s office with a cup of coffee. On his desk was a framed picture of Olive, Dorian, and himself. There was another framed picture of Robbie and himself but no picture of Brett.
Sidney picked up the report Brett dropped off last night. He sipped his coffee, flipped through the information, and flipped through the rest of the pages. “Damn that dumbass,” he cursed. He shot up from his desk with the report and stormed out of his office.
Back at Bandito’s restaurant, Brett opened his mouth. “Ahhh!” he cried out, clutching his chest and bending over.
Bruce noticed. “More chest pains?”
“Yeah,” he said.
A few seconds passed. “They’re gone,” Brett said, relieved.
“I can’t believe your doctor can’t find anything wrong. There has to be something that’s causing them,” Bruce said.
“They must be the pains of my marriage,” Brett replied, drinking water.
Bruce nodded. “When did they start?” he asked.
“Oddly enough, the pains started when those reoccurring dreams returned after Robbie died.”
“That’s bizarre,” Bruce said.
“I know,” Brett replied, then glanced at his watch. “We better hurry up, or Sidney will dock our pay for getting back late.”
“I know Carl will have my butt in a sling, and then he’ll run to Sidney and tattle tale on me,” Bruce added. “Mister Harris, Mister Harris, Bruce came late from lunch,” Bruce mocked a whinny kiss-up.
Brett chuckled. “Yeah, he sure knows how to kiss Sidney’s grouchy butt,” he added.
“Yeah, we should order him that Brown Nosers Kit book I saw on Amazon,” Bruce replied.
“Perfect Christmas gift for him,” Brett said.
“And I can’t believe he still lives with his mommy,” Brett added.
“And works near her desk,” Bruce added.
Back at Harris Enterprises, Sidney stormed into Brett’s office.
He saw it was empty and stormed out.
Sidney stormed through the office area. Numerous employees ducked out of view.
Sidney stormed over to Agnes’s desk. “What’s wrong?” Agnes asked. “Where’s Brett? I need to see him!” he fumed.
“I saw him leave for lunch with Mister Cooper,” Carl snitched from his desk.
“Let me know the second he arrives back at his office,” he said. “Yes, sir,”
Sidney stormed into his office.
Thirty minutes passed.
Agnes typed on her computer. She observed Brett and Bruce walking through the office area and picked up her phone. “Sidney, Brett is headed back to his office,” she said into her phone.
Brett entered his office, sat at his desk, and then opened a game on his computer.
Seconds later, his office door slammed open. Brett jumped and was startled, then noticed Sidney storming up to his desk, nostrils flaring, with a folder in hand.
Brett quickly closed the computer game. “Hi, Sidney,” Brett said.
Sidney slammed the folder down on Brett’s desk. Brett cringed.
“Mister Woods, this monthly report stinks!
The numbers don’t add up. The pages are out of order, the structure’s all wrong, and the format is improper. I want you to stay all night until you get it right,” Sidney yelled, spraying slobber in Brett’s direction. Brett dodged the spray.
Brett picked up the folder, opened it, and glanced at the report.
Sidney turned around, stormed out of his office, and shut the door.
Brett laid the folder on his desk, turned to his computer monitor, and opened the AOPA website. He clicked on a safety course.
It’s 7:00 p.m. in Brett’s office. He frantically works on that report and is on his fourth cup of coffee.
His desk phone rang. “Brett,” he answered the call.
“That’s not the proper way to answer your phone. The proper response would be,” “Thank you for calling Harris Enterprises; I’m Mister Brett Woods, Assistant to the Financial Manager,” Dorian scolded from his phone.
Brett rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I won’t let it happen again.”
“You could have called me to let me know you would be late,” she scolded.
Brett hesitated. “Sorry, I was deeply involved in completing this report your father wants tonight. I lost track of time,” he replied.
“You better be working on a report and not visiting some stupid aviation game or website. Or you had better not stay late to be with some woman. You know what the consequences would be if I catch you,” she threatened.
“I promise, I’m working on a report your father wants, and I’m not with another woman or playing a game or visiting aviation websites,” he fibbed.
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”
Brett hung up his phone. “Yep, I’m looking forward to coming home,” he said, making a finger gun and shooting himself in the temple, then returned to his report.
Dorian made another cell phone call at Brett’s home at her kitchen table.
“Hi Daddy, it’s me,” Dorian said. “Brett told me he had to stay late to work on a report. Is that correct?”
“Yes, dear. And again, I’m not happy with his performance, so I told him to stay late to work on it,” Sidney replied from her cell phone.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do this again,” she replied.
“He better start improving,” Sidney said. “He went out to lunch with Bruce Cooper when he should have been here working. And Bruce is also on thin ice with his performance,” Sidney added.
“I’m sorry about that, Daddy. I’ll say something to Brett. Goodnight, Daddy,” she said, disconnecting her call.
Dorian slammed her cell phone down.
Back at Brett’s office, he hurriedly finished his report. He printed it out, reviewed it, placed it in a folder, and turned off his computer.
Brett walked out of his office through the empty, quiet office area.
When he reached Sidney’s office, he placed the report folder on Agnes’ desk and walked away, heading to the elevators.
Brett drove his usual route home through the streets of Fort Wayne, taking him by Smith Airfield. Tonight, the airport was quiet with air traffic.
Later that night, Brett and Dorian ate dinner in Brett’s dining room. Mozart played from the CD player in the living room.
“I spoke with Daddy after I called you,” Dorian said.
Brett fidgeted in his seat. “Oh?”
Dorian slammed her fork on the table. “Daddy was nice enough to give you that job so you could support me. And this is how you thank him? With lousy quality on an important report?” she scolded.
“I’m sorry, but like I’ve told you before, doing the financial work isn’t my thing,” he replied.
“Not your thing? What exactly is your thing?”
“Well, if you would have let me pursue an Air Force career like I wanted,” he replied.
“An Air Force career? How could you envision being a pilot when I was pregnant with Robbie? I didn’t want to be a widow from you crashing an airplane. Besides, being a pilot is not a respectable profession,” she said.
“But working for your...,” Brett said and stopped.
“But working for your what?” Dorian replied, glaring at him.
“Never mind,” Brett replied.
Dorian glared at him.
He glanced down at his meal, avoiding eye contact.
“Your problem is that you’re hanging around with that Bruce Cooper way too much. He’s a loser, and it’s rubbing off on you. So from now on, you’ll stop being friends with him. Is that understood?” she ordered.
“Yes, dear,” he obediently responded, being whipped.