Free Club Sandwich by Lisa Samson

to see him. I hate that.
    So as we drive to the airport to pick him up, we sing “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” over and over, our very own summer anthem.
    Dinah, won’t you blow your horn!
    We haven’t seen him since Easter. He could have driven back this way with the group, but we sprang for the plane ticket.
    We park in the garage at BWI and sigh with gratitude as the air conditioning of the terminal hits us full on and begins to evaporate our perspiration. I have no luck when it comes to the Blazer’s AC, even though I’m so faithful with the coolant. I was tempted to leave the windows rolled down, but airport garages aren’t exactly
Mayberry RFD
.
    Lyra almost skips with excitement. Daddy’s girl. Knowing how a teen girl gains her sexual identity from her father at this time of her life, I do all I can to hide my feelings about my husband from her. I want her to love him purely in response to how he treats her, then translate that in light of how he treats me so that someday, when choosing a mate, her standards will rise every bit to the level she deserves. She wears new khaki shorts and a pink tank top. She’s anticipating evening walks after the others go to bed, and trips to Friendly’s Ice Cream twice a week. And Rusty won’t disappoint her.
    Me, I’m looking forward to hearing Rusty humming aroundthe house. “In Times Like These” finds its way out of Rusty’s lips more than anything.
    “In times like these, you need a Savior. In times like these, you need an anchor. Be very sure, be very sure, your anchor holds, and grips the solid rock.” I need that anchor. It’s what keeps me from drifting so far off center I don’t recognize who I am in the eyes of God. So here’s the thing, Lord, help me not to waste this visit with bickering, because Rusty will leave and the hurtful words will remain, hanging all about the house, shaking their finger at me saying, “Now what good did that do?”
    “Can we go up to the gate this time?” Persy jangles with excitement.
    “Not anymore.”
    “Is that ever going to change, Mom?” Lyra.
    “Nope.”
    “Oh, okay.”
    Isn’t that acceptance sad? The world looks so different, and they don’t even realize it. Don’t worry. I won’t go into my opinions on homeland security other than to say I’m not comfortable with the privacy invasions. Unfortunately I have no good alternatives to offer, so I’ll keep my mouth shut.
    We check the flight board and head toward Pier C. Thank goodness the flight is on time. “Only about five minutes, gang.”
    They know better than to worry that we’ll miss him. Nobody misses Rusty.
    Trixie’s squirming in the stroller already. She’s a wire that can slip loose from almost any constraint. But I’ve already run interference, as losing your child in an airport is way too scary. I tightened the belt to the point of circulation loss and promised her a trip to Toys “R” Us if she stays put until we see Daddy. In times like theseI’m glad she’s not yet potty trained, because you can bet your engagement ring, your farm, and your firstborn she’d have had me in the bathroom at least twice by now. Lyra trained by two. Persy on his third birthday. If Trixie’s out of diapers by four, I’ll buy the world a drink. I’m sure she’s used up half the amount of diapers Lyra did anyway, so we’re even on that point. In those days, I changed the slightest dampness. Now, if those silicone balls haven’t made an appearance, she’s still good to go.
    Those poor third children. No wonder they’re so pushy. They need to be.
    “There he is!” Persy’s off and running.
    “Daddy! Daddy!” Trixie pulls against her restraints.
    As I free her, I feel a smile stretch my face, and I wave my arms. I have no backbone. I don’t want to encourage him, but I can’t help myself, I’m glad to see him, maybe because he’s so glad to see us.
    Rusty hugs all three kids at once, and when he pulls me close he whispers, “Saved