Six months after Flight 2447, Elijah asked whether the Bean was still there.
Naomi looked up from her breakfast.
"The Bean?"
"In Chicago."
"I'm pretty sure nobody moved it."
He pushed cereal around his bowl.
"Could we go?"
Naomi did not answer immediately.
For months she had refused to suggest another flight. She had driven with him to nearby cities instead. They had taken a train once because Elijah wanted to know whether sleeping cars were as interesting as they looked in books.
Lila Grant had advised Naomi not to make flying into a test.
"If you ask him whether he's ready often enough," Lila said, "he may start thinking readiness is something he owes you. Let him bring it up."
Now he had.
"Do you want to fly?"
Elijah nodded.
Then shook his head.
Then laughed nervously.
"I want to want to fly."
Naomi understood exactly.
"We can stop at any point. We can book it and cancel. We can go to the airport and come home. We can board and get off before the door closes if you change your mind."
"Would people be mad?"
"Some people might be inconvenienced. That's not the same as you doing something wrong."
He thought about that.
"Can Grandma come?"
"Of course."
His grandmother, when told, became quiet.
She had done less therapy than Elijah but carried her own version of the event. For weeks after Flight 2447, she woke at night remembering Rebecca's hand on her grandson and her own failure to wake sooner.
Lila eventually asked her one question that shifted the guilt.
"If you had stayed awake every second of the flight, would that have made Rebecca's behavior acceptable?"
The answer was obviously no.
The guilt had been less obvious.
They booked Chicago for a Saturday morning.
Naomi bought three seats in business class, then changed them to economy two days later.
Not as a statement.
Because Elijah asked.
"I don't want to feel like I have to sit up front to be safe."
Naomi stared at him.
"Are you sure?"
"I want the window."
So they booked 12A, 12B, and 12C.
Skyward's reservations system automatically flagged Naomi as an executive. She removed the special-service note except for one item required for the review team: passenger prefers no public recognition.
She did not want applause.
She wanted normal.
At Hartsfield-Jackson, Elijah held her hand but did not squeeze.
That was progress.
The gate agent recognized Naomi but followed the note.
"Good morning. Welcome aboard."
No announcement.
No special boarding speech.