The night of Byron's return from Alaska was a busy one. Wyatt and I spent the day swimming at my mother's, and returned home in time for a nap and then to get ready for a wedding reception. Our friends, Ryan and Ginger, were awesome enough to call and let me know they were almost to the reception, so we wouldn't be alone. So, stressing because Wyatt ate none of his dinner, I gathered everything we needed and headed out the door. In my rush, I forgot my cell phone. Byron would be trying to call to let me know when he was almost home. At the reception, my mind focused on other things, especially when a sweet grandma fell out of the photo booth and hit Wyatt's hands as she came crashing down on the wedding presents. The music was loud, there were a lot of people, and now Wyatt was crying huge crocodile tears as his hands throbbed in pain. My saving grace was seeing Miranda's (Ryan and Ginger's daughter) face walking out of the bathroom nearby. She helped to calm Wyatt down and show me where her parents were. With a pouting lip and big tears still in his eyes, Wyatt willingly went to Ryan and clung on to him for most of the evening. I tensed for a moment to see Ryan take Wyatt straight to the ice cream bar, still envisioning his full, untouched dinner plate of meatballs and couscous sitting on our kitchen table. Ginger kindly reminded me to leave the kid alone, he just had a grandma fall of him. I calmed down.
Ryan offered to pick up Byron at the airport, so I decided to get home to see if Byron had called. Not to my surprise I saw that I had missed Byron's phone call, but he had left a voice mail. I pushed all the right numbers and waited calmly for the message to play. As the voice mail started playing, I could hear environmental noise from an airplane, and then the most frightening sound I had ever heard. A woman was screaming, what to me, sounded like out of complete fear. The scream continued for the longest 3 seconds of my life. I then heard Byron's voice start to speak, and then nothing. The message ended. My heart stopped, my hands shook, and tears filled my eyes, while panic filled my chest. "What was that?!! What was that scream?" I yelled as I paced my family room. I listened again, same scream, same panic. Again, I listened, I cried, I paced. Over and over, I listened to the messenger as sweet little Wyatt repeated, "Whas wong, Mama? Whas wong?" What do I say? "I think your daddy is on a hijacked plane?" I decide to call Byron's voicemail, forgetting that we switched phones and Byron might not know how to get my voicemail. I was bawling, begging for Byron to pick up the phone. "Why is there a woman screaming? Where are you? Why are you calling me when you should be on the plane?"
I was frantic. I tried to call my mom's house. No answer, I left a sobbing message asking her to call me. I called her cell. Why doesn't my mother ever keep her phone on? Then I was terrified to remember, my father was also on that plane. By this point, I've listened to that woman's scream at least 10 times. I've started to think the plane as been hijacked and Wyatt will not know his father or grandfather. Overreacting, perhaps, but you didn't hear that scream. I decide to call Ryan, I'm at the point where I have no idea what to do. I started crying, as Ryan assures me everything was fine.
"What airline is he on?"
I have no idea."
"Do you know what flight number it is?"
"Byron never told me. He's supposed to be home by 10:30."
I'm sure he's fine, Sommer."
Finally my mother calls me, staying calm, but wanting to know exactly what I heard on that message. She hangs up to listen to the rest of her messages to see if my father called. He did.
"Connie, Connie, Connie. She's not there." End of message.
What does that mean? My mother and grandmother decided to come over. While I wait, Ryan callsed with the airline and flight number that Byron should be on. I was able to find it on the Internet and I sat at the kitchen table staring at a little plane moving on the screen. My mom and grandmother join me ans we listen to the woman screaming again, and again. My grandmother calmly maked a phone call to the airport. "The plane as landed!" But was Byron and my dad on that flight? I called the cell phone again, and again. No answer. Time passes by like an eternity, until finally! Byron, completely unaware of the worst hour and a half of my life, called to tell me he's at the airport. Sobbing, I wail, "Where the hell of you been?" After a brief, yet strongly emotional conversation, I explain what I've been through, and Byron apologizes over and over again. He thought he had hung up before the phone started recorded, and he had no idea what that scream was. He wasn't even sitting near a woman.
We learned a lesson that night. We need to communicate more. I've always been so passive about Byron and his travels. People ask me where Byron is when he goes hunting. Haven't the foggiest idea! Why didn't I know the name of the airlines? The fight number? I know better now. Had I known more information about the flight, I would have known that Byron called one minute before the plan was scheduled to take off. Knowing about that one minute might have kept me rational and calm, not frantically jumping to conclusions. Most importantly, I was reminded how much I love my father and my husband. I did not want to live my life without my best friend. I wanted Wyatt to always know his father. I was so glad to see their faces.
Gone Viral
14 years ago
