The Root Beer Rolex in 24F

“Good morning, I believe that’s my seat.”

Robert Keegan yanked an AirPod out of his ear and looked up at the elderly man standing in the middle aisle of the commercial airliner. He had no bags and was gesturing towards the window seat. A long line of passengers stretched to the front of the plane, their faces a mixed mosaic of excitement and anticipation, jet lag and travel fatigue.

“What?” Keegan said a little harsher than he intended. “Oh yeah, the seat.” Keegan pulled his computer bag on to his lap and tried his best to fold into himself to create space in the tight row. Keegan used to fly first class. Space was not a problem the rich had to contend with.

The older man clumsily squeezed between Keegan’s knees and the rigid seat back of the row in front of them and fell into the seat with a satisfying thud. “Sorry about that,” the man said with a grin.

Keegan nodded in acknowledgment and popped his AirPod back into his ear. He gingerly set his computer bag back at his feet and slowly slid it under the seat in front of him—an act that was more out of habit than necessity. The expensive machine that he had relied upon to move him forward in life no longer held any significance.

Closing his eyes, Keegan sighed and tuned out the cacophony of passengers scrambling for seats and overhead space. The airline companies had tried numerous systems for herding their passengers quickly and efficiently into their seats, all without success. It was something of a necessary evil.

A burst of orange suddenly filled Keegan’s vision as sunlight beamed through his closed eyelids. His eyes fluttered open and he held his hand up to block the dazzling light that was glinting off the wing and through the now open window.

“Hey,” Keegan said, once again pulling his AirPod out, “do you mind?”

“What’s that?” The elderly man replied, looking completely oblivious to the fact that he had just blasted Keegan in the face with sunlight. 

Keegan looked the old man over. He was wearing tan khakis and a wool v-neck sweater out of which poked a blue shirt collar. Brown leather loafers and a watch completed the outfit. Keegan looked a little closer at the watch. It was a “Root Beer” Rolex Submariner, so called because of the black and brown bezel and rose gold case that brought to mind the carbonated beverage. It was off by several hours.

Keegan glanced down at his own watch, a “Pepsi” Submariner with its distinctive red and blue bezel. His wife had gotten it for him on their first wedding anniversary. How she had afforded it, he still didn’t know. They definitely were not poor at that time, but they had not hit it big yet either. It was certainly a gift above their living standards and he had cherished it all the more knowing the sacrifice it had taken. That watch had sparked his interest in horology and he would build an impressive collection of Rolexes, Omegas, and even a Patek Phillipe. They were all gone now. Only the Pepsi remained, an ironic symbol of his cratered status.

Keegan shook his head and closed his eyes again. The face of his wife appeared on the backs of his eyelids. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. “Don’t do it,” she seemed to be saying. “Don’t.”

Opening his eyes, Keegan tried to push away the thought of his wife and the devastating effect his coming actions would have on her. It’s for her best. He thought. She wouldn’t understand. At least not immediately. But she would someday. 

Keegan felt that funny sense that someone was staring at him and turned to the old man. He was staring at him. They locked eyes but the old man didn’t look away. His eyes were brown and there was a certain heavy quality to them. They weren’t sad or depressed, instead, there seemed to be gravitas and wisdom, yet they still twinkled with a mischievous bit of mirth.

The awkward moment dragged on for a few seconds before Keegan said, “That’s a nice watch.”

“Thank you,” the man said. “I like yours as well.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Chicago now. After that, who knows.”

“Do you travel a lot?” Keegan asked.

“A little bit.”

Looking toward the front of the plane, Keegan noticed that the stewardess was shutting the cabin door and getting ready to begin the pre-flight presentation. Inwardly, Keegan cheered because the aisle seat to his right was still empty. He unbuckled and leaned forward to grab his bag. 

“Where are you going?” The man asked.

“I’m just moving over.

“No, where are you going?” The man asked again.

“Oh, back home to Chicago.”

“You don’t seem to understand me. Where are you really going?”

Keegan stared at the man he had met just minutes ago. “You’re right…I don’t understand you.”

The stewardesses had taken up their positions at the front and middle of the plane and were pantomiming what to do in case of an emergency as the third member of the cabin crew read from a script over the intercom system. 

“Secure your own oxygen mask before helping others with theirs…”

The old man smiled. “We can talk once we’re in the air.”

Keegan once again stared at the man. It was awfully presumptuous for this stranger to think Keegan wanted to talk at all. He intended on sleeping and having nothing to do with this meddler for the rest of the flight. He began to get out of his seat but was stopped by a passing stewardess, a cantankerous-looking woman who appeared to have been a crew member on a Wright Brothers flight. “Buckle up,” she said putting a firm and wrinkled hand on his soulder. Keegan, barely halfway out of his seat, plopped back down, doomed to sit next to the old man for the duration of take off. 

The airliner took off without a hitch, rising majestically into the sky like a seasoned eagle showing off for its chicks. 

Keegan had his AirPods back in and his eyes closed. Jazz whisked him away from the place he currently was to a place he wished he was. A place in the past before the upward trajectory of his life had taken a nosedive. A place in the past when he had a dream and a vision. 

It had been at least thirty minutes since they took off and he was glad the old man had not disturbed him. Something about him made Keegan uncomfortable. 

Suddenly, the entire plane shuddered violently and a chorus of screams and yells bounced around the cabin. Keegan’s eyes shot open. The overhead lights were flickering and the plane was being mercilessly thrown around by some brutish unseen force. Throughout the plane, people were yelling and crying and retching. Families clung to one another to feel some sense of protection. 

Keegan looked out the window. It was black as night save for the occasional flash of lightning that shot light through the cabin like a camera flash. Then he looked at the old man. He was as serene as if he was having a picnic in a lush meadow. He looked at Keegan and smiled. “Thought that might wake you up.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Keegan shouted. “Are you insane?”

“I’ll ask you again, Robert. Where are you going? What are you doing with your life?”

Keegan’s mouth was open. “What—how do you know my name?”

The plane pitched back and forth, throwing them around in their seats. The surreal conversation began to make Keegan think it was all a dream. He pinched himself but nothing happened. He was still sitting in seat 24E on a plane caught in the throes of a massive and powerful storm.

“This isn’t a dream,” the old man said. “But I’m sure you with it was. Not just this flight, but everything.” 

“What are you talking about?” Keegan said, fear now evident in his pinched voice.

“Well for one, your collapsing marriage. It started over something small but you didn’t fix it and it grew and grew and grew. And then communication broke down. You stopped talking or spending any kind of time together at all. And now, you’re looking at other options. And that is just the start of the nightmare you are living.”

Keegan suddenly lunged to his right and grabbed the man’s sweater. “Who are you, you creep?”

The plane dipped again, sending a volley of screams up around them and causing Keegan to lose his grip. His head hit the back of the seat in front of him, opening a small cut above his eye.

“Robert, we don’t have time for this. It’s time for you to face your demons. I could sit here and have a long counseling session about everything you are fighting and struggling with, but that’s not what you need to hear right now.” The man’s eyes had changed. They were in intense and penetrating. Boring deep into Keegan’s soul. “You have gotten yourself into a horrible situation and you think there is only one way out, but that is not the case.”

Keegan was back in his seat, holding the sleeve of his white shirt to the cut over his eye. The crimson color of his blood matched the red monogram of his initials stitched to his cuff.

“You have to make the decision to be grateful for everything behind you and fight for everything ahead of you.” 

The plane was shaking again. They were going down. 

“Robert, it’s going to be hard to fix things with your wife. It’s going to be hard to come back from your cratering career. It’s going to be hard to build back that bank account. But don’t give up.”

Keegan was still silent, still holding the bloodied sleeve to his head. 

The old man put his hand on his shoulder. His eyes—which were so expressive—had softened to portals of calm in the chaos all around them. “I have one more thing to say: There will be a time when your life flashes before your eyes. It’s up to you to decide what kind of story you see.”

The pilot’s voice crackled over the PA system, staticky but understandable: “Mayday, mayday! We’ve lost one of our engines, we’re going down fast!”

Another voice cut in: “Sir, that’s not the radio! That’s—”

Then silence from the cockpit. The plane pitched and yawed as turmoil roiled the cabin. This was it. They were all going to die. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Keegan thought. 

He closed his eyes and it happened: his whole life began whizzing by in vivid frames.

His childhood. Birthdays, T-ball, a broken arm.

His teenage years. First crush, first car, first heartbreak. 

His college years. Parties, studying, meeting his wife.

His wedding day played before him. She looked unbelievably beautiful walking down the middle aisle of their church in a flowing white dress and veil.

He saw the day he closed a massive real estate deal and made his first million.

He saw the day he and his wife bought their dream home.

Holidays and gatherings with family and friends flickered by like an old home video.

Then things took a dark turn. He saw the day his personal real estate empire began to collapse.

He saw his money begin to drain away. 

He saw an argument with his wife. Then another. Then another.

Then they stopped arguing.

Then he began to pursue the other woman.

His mind skipped past the present and raced into the future—not the one he and his wife once dreamed of, lying in the grass, staring at the clouds. The one he chose alone.

In his mind, he watched himself walk into his bedroom, open the top drawer of his nightstand, pull out his pistol, and place it to his head.

Then he saw the funeral. His wife, sitting on the front row, tears streaking down her face.

It’s for her sake. He had told himself. Better I kill myself before I fall into an affair with this other woman or drag our finances even lower.

Then she was there again, imprinted on his closed eyelids: “Don’t do it.”

The old man was there: “Don’t do it. Fight back and don’t give up.”

Fight back and don’t give up. He wasn’t going to give up. He would make things right, even if it was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done.

Keegan cried out: “God, help me!”

Suddenly, it all stopped. All of it. The flashing frames. The shaking plane. Keegan opened his eyes. Sunlight shone through the window; there was no sign of the storm. The cabin was peaceful and quiet save for the single baby crying near the front. 

Keegan looked down at his shirt sleeve, white without a smidge of red. He felt his forehead, not even a scrape or a bump. 

He looked to his left, the seat was empty. He looked to his right, the old man was gone, but the seat wasn’t empty. Sitting on top of the leather cushion was a gleaming “Root Beer” Rolex Submariner.