Windkill

The rental plane landed late at Aue Claire municipal airport. A low-pressure area extending from the Dakotas played havoc on the small engine craft, making it seem like they were standing still in the air.

The white-knuckle experience had done nothing to diminish the excitement of the coming event. In fact, it had added to the overall mood, which was bad if you were a member of the Ottinger clan. Cal, short for Calidad Ottinger, looked at his wife when they finally climbed off the plane and stood on firm ground. This was her idea for an exciting weekend; she had applied for the contestant status on the show, consulting no one else in the family.

Any idea of talking Marilyn out of the show dashed against a wall of stubborn single-mindedness. Three arguments, including one shouting match, had failed to get Cal out of the appearance. The children were just as unlucky; they had no choice.

She was not the woman he had married twenty-three years ago; she had grown independent and cocksure. He saw her getting further and further from him over the past year as she gained prominence with a company she had started out of sheer boredom. The money she was pulling in now paid all the bills and left enough for them to get a bigger house with better furniture, but to Cal, it was a hollow benefit. Her new found certainty even made its way into the family as she ordered Cal and the kids about like they were employees, not family.

She looked like the same woman he had married, but she was so different. Even the kids, if he could call grown children that, stood near him now rather than close to their mother. Cynthia and Bryon exited the plane and, true to form, walked to their father, Cynthia’s husband Bob, close on their heels. Bryon had his mother’s looks, willowy with dark hair and large blue eyes. He was the computer specialist in the family, earning more money in his first year of work than Cal had earned in his first five years.

Cynthia had gained a husband who looked much like her, both short, with blond hair and glasses. They chose a more active vocation by joining the national firefighting service. Of all the family attending the show, Cynthia and Bob would most be able to understand what they saw in a valley decimated by an explosion and fire. Cal was counting on that knowledge to keep them from making any drastic mistakes in front of the entire country.

Marilyn finished talking with a representative of the show and faced her family. The good news was that no one had gotten airsick. The bad news was they all looked at her like she was an alien. Cal’s reaction she expected. He had never seemed to get used to a wife who now could stand on her own two feet. It was not like he was the husband that made her do all the housework, but he had his pride and her fortune wound it. Marilyn was sick of taking second place. The success of her business was the indicator that life had changed. She even caught herself occasionally imagining life with another man.

The children were a unique challenge. Bryon needed to expand his horizon beyond a computer display, while Cynthia needed to find a little fun out of life. She knew that, as a family, they needed to face the unknown to get closer together, to climb over the petty faults that were now driving them apart. That was the logic she had used when applying for the show, however here, when they were so close to show time, Marilyn doubted her decision. A small voice in her mind questioned who was driving the family apart, but that was a thought she could not accept. It was gone before it could affect her consciousness.

“The representative says it’s a two-hour drive to the valley,” she calmly waited for an explosion at the news, or at least a groan about the idea of sitting for another two hours. Cal simply nodded and walked to the rear of the plane where their luggage was being unloaded. The kids joined their father without a word, as if they had all grown subdued during the flight.

Marilyn’s mouth opened, and she blinked several times before she recovered and faced the representative. “It was a terrible flight.”

Accepting the luggage, Cal made his way to the waiting van, Marilyn close on his heels and whispering.

“Don’t make a fool out of me tonight,” she whispered hoarsely.

Cal stopped short and spun to face his wife. “We had no choice in this little game of yours. You made us come here, so don’t expect a lot of gratitude for the push. And don’t expect us to understand how this will help the advertising for your company. We’re here. Leave it at that.”

“You could have said no.”

“And lived with sly comments about our courage,” Cal responded immediately in a calm voice. “Face it, Marilyn, this is your show. We’re just the window dressing. Admit what you are doing, don’t play us with a martyr act.”

“At least one of us has the balls in the family,” Marilyn walked stiffly away from the argument and climbed into the front of the van, where she would not have to sit next to Cal or assume a lesser role in the marriage.

“Dad?” Cynthia placed an arm around her father’s shoulders and hugged him.

Cal patted his daughter’s back while looking at Bryon and Bob. They had heard so many of these kinds of insults over the past year that he could see the pain in their eyes. The knowledge that a man as powerful as Cal could not find a way out of the Pandora’s box his wife had opened was frightening.

“We’ll survive,” he guided them to the van where the show’s representative shuffled his feet nervously.