She pulled off one earcup.
“I noticed. She also has great aim.”
“Then move.”
“Where? The wing?”
She rolled her eyes and went back to her show.
The girl smiled and kicked again.
Great. One of the monkeys had followed me onto the plane.
“Mom says you have to deal with it.”
“Your mom says a lot of things.”
“She says that one a lot.”
“I bet she does.”
“Only if you keep kicking.”
She kicked. Twice. Out of principle.
“Mom never does anything.”
“Yes. I noticed that too.”
I’d had three hours of sleep, a week of conference meetings, and twelve hours of flight between my own bed and me. All I wanted was a nap. Not a miracle. A nap.
I tried a pillow. A blanket. Sitting sideways like a pretzel.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
I turned around again.
“Ma’am, your daughter is still kicking my seat.”
“And you’re still complaining.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t fly if you can’t stand kids.”
“I have two of my own.”
“Then you should understand!”
“I do. That’s why I taught them not to kick strangers.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m still waiting for you to start.”
She put her headphones back on, slowly, like a gunslinger holstering a weapon.
I operate on hearts for a living. I know a thing or two about rhythm. This kid had none.
An hour later, Lily got bored with my seat and tried her mother instead.
“Mom, I’m bored!”
“Watch something, honey.”
“Then find something else to do!”
Lily looked at the back of my seat.
I turned around one more time.
“Listen, mister. She’s a CHILD. Children get bored. Children move. If you wanted peace and quiet, you should’ve bought a private jet!”
“What?”
“Nothing. Enjoy your show.”
On the screen, the man was now the one crying.
Finally, someone on that tablet was having a worse day than me.
Two more hours passed. Somewhere past four hundred kicks, I stopped counting.
Then the mother pulled off her headphones.
“But I don’t need to go!”
“Well, I do. Move.”
They marched down the aisle.
Silence. Beautiful, ringing silence.
I almost cried. Then I smelled something.
Hot plastic.
I leaned over. The tablet sat on her tray, still plugged in.
The power bank beside it looked slightly puffed up, and the cable was bent at a sharp angle.
I wasn’t inventing anything. It really smelled.
For two hours, I had begged that woman to give her daughter some attention. Now I had a feeling she was about to give Lily her undivided attention.
I pressed the call button.
***
A flight attendant arrived. Her name tag said Emily.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“I think something’s wrong with the electronics behind me.”
“It smells like overheated plastic. And the battery looks swollen.”
“Do you see any smoke?”
“No. But I figured you’d want to know before I do.”
She leaned in and sniffed. Her smile disappeared.
“No, ma’am. I’m a surgeon. I know better than to poke swollen things.”
“Good. Please stay in your seat.”
She called over the senior flight attendant. Two minutes later, they had unplugged everything, bagged it, and carried it off toward the galley.
I sat there looking like a Sunday school teacher.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Safety first.”
I tried my best to hide my Cheshire Cat grin.
I watched the tablet disappear.
I’d spent two hours negotiating with a ten-year-old’s sneakers. Turns out, a battery was a much better listener.
The mother and Lily came back.
She sat down, reached for her tray, and froze.
I said nothing.
She checked under the seat. The seat pocket. Then she looked at me.
“WHAT DID YOU DO?”
“Good news. Your seat’s still here.”
“YOU TOOK MY TABLET!”
“I’m a surgeon, ma’am. Not a magician.”
“Trust me, I’m not enjoying this conversation enough to play anything.”
She jabbed the call button. Emily came back.
“Ma’am, the power bank was overheating. We have to follow safety procedure.”
“There was nothing wrong with it!”
“It was unusually hot, and the battery was swollen. The crew will keep it until it’s checked.”
“HE did this!”
She pointed at me.
I turned around slowly.
“So you did notice.”
She blinked.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Of course not.”
“I want to speak to your supervisor!”
“I’ll ask the senior flight attendant to come over,” Emily said.
“So did I,” I said quietly. “Mine didn’t include a massage package.”
She dropped into her seat and pulled out her phone. Four percent.
Her headphones blinked red and died in her hands.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Shut up!”
“Just checking.”
She turned the phone off and gripped it like the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.
No tablet. No headphones. No soap opera.
I put on my sleep mask.
I thought losing her show would be the worst part of her flight.
If we’re going to suffer, we’re going to suffer together.
For five minutes, it was quiet.
I was almost asleep.
“Mom?”
“I’m bored.”
“Go to sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
I’M SLEEPY!
“Then look out the window.”
“It’s dark!”
“Then close your eyes!”
“But I’m not sleepy!”
I smiled under my mask.
“Mooooom!”
“WHAT?!”
“How much longer?”
“How many minutes is that?”
“Lily, please!”
“Is it more than a hundred?”
“Five hundred and forty,” I said.
Her mother leaned forward.
“Sorry. Occupational hazard. I like accurate numbers.”
Lily started counting to 540 out loud.
At sixty-three, her mother cracked.
“Stop counting!”
“Why?”
“You’re giving me a headache!”
“But I like counting!”
“How do I do that?”
In twenty years of medicine, I had never wanted an answer to a question so badly.
“Okay. New game. I say a word, you say one that starts with the last letter. Apple.”
“Tiger.”
MONKEY.
“Refrigerator.”
“Rabbit.”
Three minutes. A new record.
But this time, her mother heard every single kick. No headphones. No tablet. Just the sound of her own child, in surround.
“LILY! Stop kicking his seat!”
“But you said he had to deal with it!”
“She’s got a point.”
“STAY OUT OF THIS!”
“Gladly. I’ve been trying for three hours.”
Lily tugged her mother’s sleeve.
“Mom!”
“I’m hungry.”
“You just ate!”
“That was two hours ago!”
“Then drink some water.”
“Then don’t drink anything!”
“But I’m thirsty!”
Her mother rubbed her temples.
“My legs are tired!”
“Then put them somewhere else!”
“Where?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
“DO I LOOK OKAY?!”
“You look like someone dealing with a child.”
“I’ll complain about you!”
“Go ahead. Tell them I answered a math question.”
She turned on her phone. Four percent.
Seven minutes later:
“Mom, it died.”
Welcome to the club. Membership is free. Sleep is not included.
Emily gave Lily a coloring book. Ten minutes later, she was bored again.
But very soon, something I’d stopped even thinking about was about to happen.
Her head appeared between our seats.
“Are you a real doctor?”
“Have you cut somebody open?”
“Several times a week.”
“Did they cry?”
“They were asleep. Lucky them.”
“I’ve been asking you to talk to her for three hours.”
Her mother pulled Lily back.
“Stop bothering the man.”
“But he’s a doctor!”
“And he’s off duty,” I said.
Lily kicked my seat again.
Her mother was about to blow a gasket.
And I did something even I hadn’t expected. I offered to help.
I remembered something my sons did whenever we were stuck waiting at airports. It usually bought me twenty minutes. Today, I’d happily settle for five uninterrupted minutes of peace.
Her eyes widened. “A real one?”
“An extremely serious one. Somebody stole the last chocolate cookie from my kitchen, and nobody confessed.”
“Who?”
“Three suspects. My sons and our dog. Your mother gets to be the detective.”
“Absolutely not,” her mother said.
“Then the criminal walks free.”
“FINE! What’s the evidence?”
“Hold on,” I said. “Every detective needs a badge.”
I drew a star on my notepad.
“Detective Lily. Officially appointed.”
Lily grinned like she’d just been promoted.
“Where’s Mom’s badge?”
“She’s the chief. Chiefs don’t need badges.”
Her mother gave me a look.
“Convenient.”
“Hospital politics taught me.”
Lily held up her paper star.
“Only after you find evidence. And no kicking suspects.”
“Even bad guys?”
Her mother snorted despite herself.
“Do we get handcuffs?” Lily asked.
“Budget cuts,” I said. “You’ll have to use your imagination.”
“That’s a terrible police department.”
“You should see our coffee.”
The man one row over raised his cup.
“Take a number,” I told him.
Lily started searching her mother’s purse for a pen.
“Ask permission first,” I said.
“Mom, can I borrow it?”
“See? Already solving crimes against airplane etiquette.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Lily drew another star and handed it to her mother.
“Now you’re officially my partner.”
Her mother examined the badge.
“Cookies,” Lily said.
“Apparently, those are missing,” I replied.
I held up three fingers.
“Ben had chocolate on his shirt. Max had crumbs in his pocket. And the dog had an empty cookie wrapper beside his bed.”
“The dog did it!” Lily announced.
“Detectives don’t guess,” I said. “They interrogate witnesses.”
Her mother sighed. “Fine. Why did Ben have chocolate on his shirt?”
“He was baking brownies.”
“And Max?”
“He said the crumbs came from crackers.”
“What about the dog?”
Lily giggled.
“Mom, ask about the wrapper!”
“Was it torn open?”
“No. Neatly folded.”
Her mother leaned forward, interested despite herself.
“Dogs don’t fold wrappers.”
“Exactly,” Lily whispered. “Someone framed him!”
“Now you’re thinking like detectives.”
“Did Max eat the cookie?” her mother asked.
“He did. Ben caught him and made him clean up. Max planted the wrapper to blame the dog.”
“That’s cheating!” Lily protested.
“Another case!”
I pointed at her mother.
“Detective, your turn. Invent a mystery. Your assistant can question you.”
“Something missing from home?”
She looked at Lily.
“My good lipstick. Last Tuesday.”
Lily suddenly studied her shoes.
“Oh, now THIS is interesting,” I said.
“I only used it to color my doll’s mouth!”
Her mother stared. Then laughed for the first time all flight.
“Case closed,” I said, pulling down my mask. “Absolutely no further appeals.”
Behind me, Lily demanded another mystery. Her mother began inventing one about missing house keys.
For once, they were talking to each other instead of shouting at me.
I fell asleep.
When I woke, landing was an hour away. Four hours of sleep. Not bad for a man nearly murdered by pink sneakers.
Lily was asleep against her mother’s shoulder. The woman looked as exhausted as I had felt in Tokyo.
Before landing, she leaned forward.
“Proud of yourself?”
“Very. Four hours.”
“You could’ve suggested that game earlier.”
She looked away.
The wheels touched down. Lily woke.
“Mom, can I have your tablet?”
“Not yet.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
“Please. Five minutes without that word.”
I stood and reached for my bag.
“Good luck, ma’am.”
“With what?”
“The ride home.”
In the terminal, Sarah had texted: Ben and Max were waiting for me.
I couldn’t wait to see my boys.
But first, I’d hug my wife and beg her never to buy them light-up sneakers.
I’ve spent twenty years fixing hearts. Sometimes the best cure for a headache is giving it back to whoever caused it.
