Walter Kirn - Up In the Air

f old certain itineraries in the middle and the halves are mirrors of each other. Ive taken such trips, a yo-yo on a string, staying in the same places on my way back that I stayed in, the other day, on my way out. At the outermost point of such journeys, before the pivot, theres a moment of stillness, of poised potential energy. To begin the rewinding all I have to do is pick up my change and wallet from the nightstand, tuck in a shirttail, sign a credit card slip. But what if I dont? Its always tempting. Rebellion. What if I step aside and let the string snap back without me? Ill be free then, wont I?

The next flight back to Salt Lake leaves in an hour, and there is another two hours after that. Julie wants my decision. She licks a yogurt cone speckled with crystals of red cinnamon candy and leans on the rail of the rising escalator, watching her brother sort through his bad options. Ive begun to suspect shes pregnant and not telling me. Her face has that dependent bottomless softness and her appetite for junk seems driven, hormonal. Shes filling out like a moon before my eyes.

How would you like to see my office?

Sure. I thought youd quit, though.

Thats still in process. Well rent a car. Well drive.

I need to get out of the airport. All airports. Now.

My Maestro Diamond card cuts through the formalities and ten minutes later were buckled up and cruising, watching the Denver skyline climb the windshield and swaying in our seats to Christian rock. Julie has always been up for anythingthe source of most of her problems. She rides along. Her beauty arises from her readiness, and Keith, if hes really the lump shes made him out to be, will never drink from its source. Thats fine with me. There are parts of her that Id rather strangers not handle.

Im a dead man at ISM but they dont know that yet; the parking attendant thumbs-ups me, lifts the gate. We drive down into a catacomb of Cadillacs and take my empty spot, still stained with coolant from my poorly maintained Toyota. When we get out, a man that I know from the hallways and lobby and who Ive always assumed is at my levelthough how would I know?stops dead and palely stares. He raises a hand in a lame half wave, then fusses with his tie and turns and goes. Theres the flash of a shoeshine, the echo of hasty steps. I lock the car doors remotely, with the smart key, and lead Julie into the elevator and up.