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Zeke didn’t fly with Casey if he could help it. Casey didn’t mind the flight itself, but getting him through check-in and security could be a big hassle.
Houston to Chicago, though, Zeke decided was just too long on the train or a bus. The short trip would outweigh the extra stress. He paid extra to get them a direct flight, and he made sure they were in a two-seat aisle, so Casey wouldn’t have to sit near a stranger.
Lines were OK. Casey didn’t mind waiting in lines, provided Zeke was waiting patiently with him. The airline rep taking their tickets and asking the standard questions was when Casey got anxious.
“This is my little brother,” Zeke said in a low voice, leaning in closer to the woman. “He’s autistic. I packed his bag for him.”
The woman smiled sympathetically. “All right,” she agreed easily. Women were always an easy sell, between Zeke’s good looks and winning smile and Casey’s big baby blues and lost puppy dog face.
Getting Casey to relinquish his bag was hurdle number two. Zeke set his beside the counter and tried to persuade Casey to follow suit. “Come on,” he said. “Just put your bag with mine. We’ll get them back in Chicago.”
“You said I could keep it,” Casey said nervously. The airport was already starting to wear on him: strangers and overhead intercoms and guards.
“You can keep your backpack,” Zeke said patiently. “You need to check your bag. It’s all right. We’ll pick them back up when we get to Chicago.”
“With Stokely and Stan,” Casey said.
“Yes,” Zeke assured him, and that finally did the trick. Casey set his bag down beside Zeke’s and Zeke rubbed the back of Casey’s head in approval.
The airline rep smiled at Zeke and handed him the tickets. “I’ll let them know at the gate that you should be allowed to board first,” she said. “That way you can get him settled.”
“Thank you,” Zeke said, and gave her his best grateful-older-brother smile. Casey was trying to plaster himself into Zeke’s side, clutching nervously at his jacket with one hand and gnawing the fingernails on the other. The woman’s eyes flicked to Casey and Zeke could almost hear her silent, pitying tsking.
Security was, of course, the most difficult piece. Zeke picked a line being manned by a woman, though a man stood at the end with a wand. As the line slowly moved forward, he tried to get Casey to pay attention to the process, to see that no one was hurt and everyone got their bags back. Unfortunately, Casey was watching guards frisk a man, his eyes gigantic and frightened. Zeke kept Casey in front of him in line, one hand around a skinny upper arm, just in case he decided to bolt, and the other resting on Casey’s back, hoping to soothe.
When it was their turn, Casey didn’t want to put the damn backpack on the conveyor.
“Look, it just goes through and then we pick it up at the other end,” Zeke said. “They won’t hurt it. You’ll get it back in a second.”
“No, I should wear it,” Casey said stubbornly.
“No, you can’t,” Zeke said, just as stubbornly. The pack was only slung over one shoulder, so he reached for it. Casey didn’t stop him, but clung to it fiercely with one hand, refusing to relinquish it.
“What’s the problem?” the female security guard asked in a bored voice.
“He’s just a little nervous,” Zeke said.
“Put the bag on the belt, kid,” the woman said, bored and now impatient. Zeke cursed her in his head. Casey was holding the bag’s strap even tighter now, his eyes darting nervously about the terminal. Zeke could practically smell the urge to run coming off of him.
“Here, son, here,” said a kind voice, and an older black security guard stepped up. “It’s all right. We just want to make sure you’re safe on the airplane. You been on a plane before?”
The grandfatherly, gentle tone threw Casey off. He nodded, uncertainly. “Great!” the guard said. “I love to fly myself. Went to Mexico last year on vacation. Here, let’s just put this bag on the belt, and then you can come right through this little door-area. You been to Mexico?”
Casey shook his head and gave up the bag in confusion. “No?” the guard asked. “My wife and I, we had a great time. You should get this fella to take you. This your brother?”
Casey nodded -- he’d learned to answer yes to that question long ago. The guard moved around the metal detector to stand on the other side. Now Casey was between Zeke and the detector, the guard on the other side.
“I bet you two would have a great time in Mexico,” the man said. “Where you headed today?”
“C-chicago,” Casey stuttered.
“The Windy City!” the man said. “I went there a long time ago. Now, come right on through and your brother will come right behind you.”
Casey obediently went without fuss through the detector, which did not go off. Zeke had dressed them both carefully that morning, with a mind to metal detectors. He followed quickly through the detector, and set his hands on Casey’s shoulders to let him know he was there.
“Who you going to see in Chicago?” the man asked. He was reaching for the bag on the conveyer. Zeke was not worried about the question; Casey knew how to answer this one too. And he did, with a mumbled, “Sister.”
“Yeah?” the man said. “Here you go, young man, there’s your bag,” and he handed it to Casey, who clutched it to his chest. “Well, you gentlemen have a good flight and a great visit with your sister.”
“Thank you,” Zeke said, and this time there was nothing manipulative about his grateful smile.
“Thank you,” Casey said in a tiny voice while staring at the floor, but Zeke was still surprised he had voiced anything at all.
“You are most welcome,” the man said, and went back to work.
Waiting was all right. Casey was twitchy, but while they sat he was able to press himself tightly to Zeke. He calmed after a while and watched the airplanes driving around outside the big windows. Zeke leaned back in his seat, stretching out his legs, and kept an arm casually loped around Casey’s shoulders.
The gate attendant spotted them fairly easily. “Mr. Lewis?” she asked politely, stopping in front of him and leaning over a bit. Zeke straightened up, and rubbed between Casey’s shoulders when he tensed. “Yes?” he said.
The woman smiled kindly. “We’re going to start boarding in about 20 minutes. I’ll be boarding families with small children and people with special needs first, so you and your brother can just come on board then, all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” Zeke said. Casey pressed a little tighter to him, if that were possible. The woman glanced at him and hesitated.
“Is there anything I should inform the flight crew about your brother’s condition?” she asked.
“No, no, he’ll be fine,” Zeke reassured her. He did not tell her that he had coaxed a Valium into Casey before they’d left, and had another one in his pocket for once they were boarded and seated. He was hoping that with it in his system, Casey would sleep his way to Chicago.
“All right, then,” the woman said cheerily, and left.
“Why do we get to go on the plane first?” Casey whispered.
“I bribed them,” Zeke answered, deadpan, and Casey nodded seriously.
When it was time to board, Casey went willingly, and on the plane, he let Zeke take the backpack from him and tuck it under the seat in front of them. He put Casey in the seat by the window and buckled him in before plopping into his own seat. It had been about two years since he’d flown anywhere with Casey, and he’d forgotten how tiring it could be.
“Hi.” The flight attendant was a tall, pretty brunette. “I’m Amy. You’re Mr. Lewis?”
“Yeah,” Zeke said, then added, “Zeke. And this is Casey.”
“Hi, Casey,” Amy said, ducking to look at him. He was looking out the window, though, and did not respond. “OK,” Amy said. “Everything all right?”
“He should be fine,” Zeke said. “Thanks for letting us board early.”
Amy nodded. “If you need anything, just let me know,” she said. “Has he flown before?”
Zeke nodded. “It’s mostly getting through all the security that’s bad for him. He just gets really anxious,” he said.
Amy smiled sympathetically. “Then the worst is behind you,” she said. “I’ll be here if you need anything at all.”
Zeke gave her a big-brother smile edged with flirtation, and her plastic smile warmed into something more human before she left them alone.
Casey hunched into his seat during the noise and confusion of the other passengers boarding, and then clutched Zeke’s hand tightly during take-off. He loosened his grip but still held Zeke’s hand once they were airborne, and watched outside the window quietly.
Amy brought them soda (Sprite for Casey, Coke for Zeke) and pretzels. Zeke let Casey munch and sip and decided he’d leave the second Valium in his pocket. He did want Casey to sleep -- seeing Stokely and Stan was always a big thing for Casey, even if it made him happy -- but after all the stress of the morning, maybe he would do it on his own. Zeke hated pumping drugs into Casey, and only did it when he felt it truly necessary.
Sure enough, Casey turned into Zeke’s shoulder and was asleep before the snacks were cleared away. Zeke looked up when Amy reappeared with a pillow and blanket.
“Thanks,” Zeke said, tossing the blanket over Casey. He wedged the pillow between Casey’s face and his shoulder. Casey squirmed a bit, but then settled without waking.
“So, your little brother?” Amy asked. The seat across the aisle was empty, and she had sat down in it.
“Yeah,” Zeke said, and realized he had unconsciously begun rubbing the back of Casey’s head. He didn’t stop himself; Amy was watching his hand in that moonstruck way women had when they saw a man with a baby or small child.
“Do you take care of him all the time, or just going on this trip with him?” Amy asked, then added, “If you don’t mind me asking. Feel free to tell me to butt out.”
Zeke smiled and let his head duck a little. “Nah, I don’t mind. He’s mine, all the time. Our parents have both passed, and our sister’s in school, so it was either me or an institution, and I couldn’t do that to him.”
“Mmm,” Amy said, nodding her head in sympathy. Zeke noticed that she had pretty green eyes flecked with gold. “That’s a lot for you, though, isn’t it?”
Zeke shrugged. He could have said, “You don’t know the half of it,” but restrained himself. He thought for a moment about childish tantrums over food, and dragging a terrified Casey from beneath hotel beds, and the once-a-week drama over making Casey clean his ears.
“Yeah, but he’s my little brother,” he said softly, and Amy looked like she was ready to melt on the fuselage floor. Zeke thought that it would be nice to fuck Amy in a hotel room in Chicago, but that wasn’t going to happen, so he filed it with the rest of his sex fantasies.
“Is Chicago your destination?” Amy asked, and Zeke nodded.
“We’re going to see our sister and brother-in-law,” he provided. “She’s at the University of Chicago.”
“Great,” Amy said. “Well, at least you have them to help you out some.”
Not really, but Zeke answered honestly and said, “They love Casey a lot.”
A call bell dinged and Amy stood up with a sigh. “Duty calls,” she said. “It was nice talking to you, Zeke.”
“Likewise,” Zeke said, but he was glad when she was gone. Casey nestled into his side some more and Zeke picked up his tiny, skinny hand and held it gently in one of his own, large ones. He looked over Casey’s head, out the window, and wondered what would happen someday when they touched down.