A Chick in the Cockpit (13 page)

I was peeved at this intrusion when all I should be thinking about is the next four hours. “God, Brad. I'm about to step into the simulator for my check ride. I'm a wreck and can barely concentrate as it is. Can this wait until tomorrow? Please?”

“I'm sorry if this is fucking inconvenient for you, but I want you to know that when you get home, things are going to change. I'll see you tomorrow night when you get home. Good luck on your check ride...” and he hung up.

I was trembling as I gathered up my flight bag. All of a sudden, his words screamed in my brain...”I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her.” I thought I was going to throw up, and with one of the most important check rides was just minutes away, I was coming unhinged.

Never before had I not fully prepared for a check ride. I thought I'd teach them a lesson by just prepping for a copilot's check. Duh, who was I hurting? Now my job was on the line and the phone call I just got threw me so off balance, I felt like I needed to be caught.

To this day, I'm still embarrassed by my weak performance that night. We all have bad days in the simulator, but I was ashamed of myself. I felt I was letting down every woman who was going to come behind me who wanted to be a mom. Was it true that we just can't have it all? Maybe our definition of “all” changes over time, because I just didn't want this.

I fumbled through the oral exam and barely survived the simulator session. Thankfully, I had taken check rides with this training captain before so he knew what I was capable of—and this wasn't it. I think he passed me out of pity. I was still safe, was within the margins of error, and didn't crash the simulator even under dire circumstance, but it was complete slop. The captain never asked what was going on, but since he was a father, I assume he just thought I was having a tough time being a new mom. I was. I was having a fucking tough time with everything. I promised him that I would go home and study my ass off. I knew enough to be safe and pass the check ride, but that wasn't my style. I always wanted to know more than the next guy, and being average wasn't okay with me. I didn't want to just fly, I wanted to soar.

I came home completely defeated. I had to explain to Brad that I wouldn't be able to hold a captain's line right now and that I'd be bidding first officer. I knew the situation was political and temporary and after a few months I'd be back to holding a captain's slot. I babbled and made small talk in anticipation of the heavy discussion that Brad said was due. I dreaded the answer, but finally asked the loaded question while smiling, “So, how'd it go with Lindsey?”

Brad didn't say anything. Instead, he walked backwards towards the couch and sat down. His eyes told me to have a seat so I took a deep breath and sat down.

“I'm sorry. I can't do it.”

“What? What are you saying? I don't understand. What can't you do?” I asked it, but I already knew. The hopes and dreams that the giddiness of fresh relationships spawn, was about to go over the bridge. Our plans that were sublime in the making were now being held up with false hope, and the pressure was building to a level where something had to give.

“Look. I'll just say it. You're not going to change my mind. I'm not going to be the stay at home parent. I'll be honest. It's just too hard. I know that sounds lame, but I really think I could hurt her. I don't want that to happen. I love her and I love you. I love you both with all my heart, so we've got to figure something else out. I'm sorry.” The tears that were threatening exposure finally spilled and the sight of them running down his cheeks broke my heart. All I wanted was the best for my family and in the end, my job was just a job. If I could find another way to earn an income, I would do it.

At that moment, I didn't give a flying fuck about flying. My momma bear instinct went into overdrive and I responded with how I truly felt. “Brad. Don't worry. We'll figure something out.” As my words melted in the air, that tiny door that I'd once opened that whispered, “Back-up Plan,” expanded wide enough that I could see myself stepping through. The idea of being there to raise my child inspired me to push the door open wider to see what was on the other side.

After being away from Lindsey for five days for the first time, I gladly volunteered for nighttime baby duties. It was during those lonely hours that I projected how a new plan could make it all work. I looked into my child's eyes and it truly didn't matter what
I
wanted anymore. I would gladly give up everything to make sure she was safe and loved. I was done leaning in.

During one of my furloughs after 9/11, I had casually thought about starting a side business that might help me during the ups and downs of the airline economy. Never thinking I'd make a living from any other source, I just thought a side business might generate a little fun money or gap money should I get furloughed again.

During my perusal, I'd found one particular business that wasn't retail and had low overhead. The owner was selling his business plan structure like a franchise, so I pulled out the information again and reviewed it with the idea that it was going to be my one and only source of income. I called the owner and after a lengthy conversation, I knew we could make this work.

I presented the whole idea and plan to Brad, and we were both ecstatic at the idea of controlling our own schedule and our own lives. In the back of my mind, I was still clinging to the hope that Brad would come around and say that he thought we could still start this business while he took care of Lindsey, just while I was on my trips. The last of that hope was severed when Brad firmly explained that there was no way he was going to work on starting up a business while watching a newborn. It couldn't be done. If we were going to do this, we were going to do it right and put everything into it—which meant he needed me to stay at home and be a mom and support him.

In exchange for me being the stay-at-home parent and taking every penny I had in my savings and retirement accounts to buy a construction warranty management business, Brad said he would run the day to day operations of our new company. I would work behind the scenes doing business development, getting the office together and finding leads on new home builders. I could work from the home office and Brad would run the office in Evergreen. He promised if I left my career, he would take care of us, forever. He would build the business, and I would build our family.

Still nervous about just quitting, I secretly called the chief pilot's office and repeatedly left messages, asking for a meeting or a phone conversation. Days passed with no response, so I wrote my company a letter asking for an unpaid leave of absence for just a few more months. I didn't want anything from them except to hold my seniority number. They wouldn't have to pay insurance and I even said if there was an expense associated with holding my slot, I'd pay them for it. I was even willing to slide down to a lower seniority number for each month that passed, but they didn't even give it a moment's consideration. Absolutely not. When I reminded them we still had pilots on furlough, they still said no.

Since Brad received his pilot's license in college, he knew everything there was to know about being a pilot. He knew that once I turned in my notice, I could not easily go back. Aviation is all about seniority, and I would have to start all over again—at the very black bottom. I planned on returning to aviation, but we both acknowledged it would be an uphill climb again. I figured I did it once, so I would just do it again. I would have to switch companies, because airlines rarely take anyone back. They correctly figure that if they dump hundreds of thousands of dollars of training into someone, they better not ever quit and walk away. It was unheard of. It's like the mafia; once you're in, you stay in and the only way out is to wait until your age allows you leave, and even then, you'll bore everyone by talking about it. No one quits the airlines.

I quit the airlines.

I wrote them a nice letter and gave them my two weeks notice. To thank me for my years of service, they allowed me to show up for my last trip on Halloween, but they had a secret replacement pilot there waiting to take the trip away from me. I walked up to the gate to savor my last trip, and there was a junior copilot standing there who guiltily informed me crew scheduling decided to put him on the trip instead. Oh, I suppose they thought I might pull something, since I was so insane to quit. They covered their ass by having another pilot there. They said I could still fly the leg if I really wanted to, but you know what? Fuck that. Fuck them. I got paid
not
to fly the trip, so I gave my crew a hug and said I was going home to Evergreen, to sit on my deck, with my baby in my arms, and I'd wave as they flew overheard on their way to Las Vegas. And that's exactly what I did. Well, not exactly. I did sit on my deck and watch the airplane go overhead, but I didn't wave. I gave the blue tail the finger as I watched it lumber to its cruising altitude over Evergreen, Colorado.

While Brad was out in the world starting our new business, I was now at home, forever in awe of our baby girl. My attention and energy I had shared with the world was now turned to one little creature. I would stare at her for hours because I was astonished that my body could actually make this gorgeous, squirming handful of flesh and blood. I couldn't wait for her to talk to me. I wanted to meet her, to know her. I wanted everything for her, and I made little vows every day that I would always do the right thing for her and provide her a good home. That last part is hard to do when you're out of money, but I was beginning to learn the meaning of home wasn't just about money.

The first year, we made $2,800 in taxable income. We went from $150,000/year combined income to poverty income in a matter of months. Of course, this change in income triggered an IRS audit which was painful but as it turned out, the IRS owed us another $4,000—guess the IRS agent didn't have
that
on his checklist.

During this time, Brad thought maybe learning the stock market and doing a few day trades could help supplement our income while we were getting the business established. He came home one night and informed me that he had signed up for a stock market course with his dad. I figured the class would cost a couple hundred bucks and would just give a few pointers to get him started.

The truth was that it was actually $11,000 for a two week course that smelled of scam in the fine print. After the first class, Brad came home psyched up and said there was a way to set it up, which guaranteed there would be a limit on how much you lost, if any. The system had built-in checkpoints that would kick you out of a trade if it looked like it was failing. He never bothered to tell me the cost of tuition or confirm that he would set up the stop limits. He told me that trust was a huge issue with him and that I really hadn't done anything to show him that I trusted him, so it was vitally important to trust him on this and just enjoy the profits. Since my entire savings and retirement accounts were nearing zero, and our income wasn't doing much better, I was getting nervous. This Hail Mary income gamble sounded so good, even if only half of it came true. Brad kept assuring me that I'd done my part by buying the business and living off my savings: now it was his turn to show me he could bring home the bacon.

Within six weeks, he'd lost tens of thousands of dollars and
my
stocks. I had agreed to let him do some trading on my Options Xpress accounts and he guaranteed me that he couldn't lose money—or if he lost, it would be minor. He kept gambling, trying to earn it back, but he just sunk deeper into the losses. At the time I discovered the stock loss, I had no idea of the cost of tuition or the actual cost of the lost stock.

It was our first huge fight. It was the first time I raised my voice to him. More than the money, I couldn't believe he was so deceitful. He hid the actual cost of tuition and tried to turn it on me by saying it was my fault for letting him have access to the stocks and money.

“God, Erika, you shouldn't have let me use it if you were going to be this mad if I lost it! This is the stock market! You know it's not a sure thing!” It's not a sure thing if you don't actually set the parameters to get out, like I assumed he would. He was so sure he was right that he pulled the stops and kept riding it down. I was so caught up in his dream that I forgot to remember that, of course, he could lose it. I just didn't think he'd lose it all. I just didn't think, so in the end, I figured it was completely my fault since I'd made the false assumption.

I was scared. We were out of money. I'd spent all my savings to start the business and to live on for the first year. Lindsey and I spent our days just going to parks and playgrounds, and I never spent a penny on anything I didn't need. I helped Brad when he asked for help, and I shopped at Goodwill and the discount racks at the grocery store. He kept reassuring me that his salesman skills would land a big client. In this business, just one big client could be the difference between poverty and prosperity, and we'd been so close several times. One even signed on the dotted line, but filed bankruptcy three months later. If it had gone as planned, we would've netted close to six figures on just one client. Success was so close, we could taste it. Brad was working really hard, and I respected his endurance and perseverance when every potential client was saying no.

During this despair, I had mentioned the possibility of going back to fly corporate aviation. I always intended to return to aviation anyway, and since I had a few friends in the business who had recently tossed out offers, I figured it was worth a follow-up. I was still on the edge of currency (you have to keep your ratings current with hours in the air, takeoff/ landing practice, and instrument flying) and it wouldn't be too hard to get back in the air.

Brad looked me hard in the eye to make me understand that he couldn't work from home or be responsible for taking care of Lindsey while he was working our business, so I brought up the idea of a nanny. There is no such thing as daycare to accommodate a corporate pilot's schedule, so it would have to be a nanny. I told him I'd probably earn enough to have a live-in nanny, but he said no way would he let anyone stay in the house, or be there when he was there.