Dearly Departing

want it.
Ray found his sweater again and rested it between his head and the edge of the window. The clouds vanished, and the sea rose up to meet them.
I should’ve done it yesterday when I had the chance. I should’ve breathed in.
Crashing into the water with close to two-hundred other poor souls wasn’t how Ray wanted things to end. He had wanted to die alone. At least he’d spoken to his daughter one last time. She said that she loved him. Ray had told her the same. Yeah, now’s as good a time as any. Go ahead, ocean. Do your stuff.
There was another lurch and Ray felt his body pressing into the seat. The strain of his safety belt digging into his lower abdomen lessened. They were going back up. There were a few more minor bumps and thumps as the plane climbed back up. The pilot’s voice came over the speakers again, still calm and self-assured, apologizing for the rough ride.
Ray could hear people crying all around him. Some were thanking God, claiming it a miracle. A few were taking the experience less spiritually, threatening legal action as soon as they landed. Calvin Riese was grinning across the aisle from Ray and Dooley. “We’re gonna be on the news tonight, fellas. Mark my words. They love these kind of survival stories.”
Ray wasn’t so sure about that. Big planes hit major turbulence every day. The only thing news worthy about it may have been the mess left behind in the cabin. The flight attendants reappeared, picking up scattered carry-on bags and empty drink containers. The stale air reeked of vomit and cold coffee. A few people started cheering and clapping.
What the hell is there to celebrate? I was ready to die. Again.
Ray unwrapped Dooley’s fingers from his hand and stared back down at the ocean. They were still too high up to see the waves. He had come a lot closer to death the day before, but there was something more final about this surprise attempt. A loved one—if his grandmother could be considered that—had visited him seconds earlier. What had that been all about? Perhaps dying wasn’t as easy as he thought. Maybe death was a long, drawn out struggle like life. It was something you had to work your ass off for.
Dooley finally spoke. “I’m still quitting my job, Ray.” His voice was an octave or two higher than normal. The oxygen mask was resting on top of his gut, stuck to his sweat-stained shirt. “Maybe I’ll travel back to the Dominican, and maybe I won’t, but Marta’s going to have to wait a while longer. Next time I’m driving down to the tip of Florida and taking a fricking boat the rest of the way.”
Their plane landed in Winnipeg four hours later without further incident. There were no news crews waiting past Customs, but Ray saw a lot of warmer-than-usual reunions at the luggage carousel. There had been a flurry of text-messaging and phone calls while the plane pulled in across the tarmac. Maybe their close call would make it to the second or third page of the newspapers the following morning. Ray didn’t care one way or the other. He looked around the mull of people, searching for Dawn.
The four men shook hands and promised to do it again the following year. Ray agreed but was certain he wouldn’t be returning to the Caribbean. His traveling days were almost over. He only had one more trip to make.
Calvin and Charlie retrieved their luggage first. Fitzy was looking almost human again. The in-flight incident had scared him completely sober, and the color had finally returned to his face. The two set off to the parking lot leaving Ray and Dooley behind with a hundred other weary travelers waiting for their bags.
“I’m not driving back to Rokerton with you, Dooley.”
Delbert Doole chuckled. “Is it about me holding your hand on the plane? Give me a break, I thought I was going to die.”
“No, seriously. I got word last night my Mom had some kind of attack. She’s not expected to make it out of the hospital.”
“Oh, Ray... I’m so sorry. And here I was being such a dick talking about me and Marta. You should’ve told me sooner.”
“No point. It is what it is.” His bag appeared on the carousel. He hoisted it off and clapped his friend on the back. “I’m staying in the city until I can get a flight out to Kelowna. I’ll see you back at work in a week or two.” He started away, feeling guilty for that final lie.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Dooley caught up to him and spun him around. “You can’t keep bottling stuff like this up. I’m your friend, for Christ’s sake. Let me help. At least let me spend the night with you... see you off on your next flight.”
“I’m good. Dawn’s meeting me here. I’ll probably stay at her place.” Ray looked around, wondering for the third or fourth time where his daughter was. “You should stay in the city, too. Buy that ticket and go back to the Dominican as soon as you can.”
Dooley looked at the floor and gave his head a wag to one side. “That was foolish talk. A fat old guy dreaming.”
Ray did something completely unexpected. He leaned in and kissed Dooley’s forehead. “It isn’t foolish finding happiness again. Do it. Buy the ticket and fly back.”
Dooley stared up at him. Tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. “Maybe... maybe I’ll do that. What about you? Can I leave and know you’re going to be okay—that you’re not going to try anything stupid?”
“I’m going to say goodbye to my Mom. There’s nothing stupid about that.” He turned and left. Dooley didn’t try to stop him again. The doors slid open and Ray stepped out into the