Are We There Yet? Read Free Page B

away.
    Elijah charms the flight crew from the get-go. He asks the flight attendants how they are doing. He looks at the cockpit with such awe that the pilot smiles. Danny maneuvers Elijah to their seats, then has to get up again to find overhead compartment space (the rest of the row illegally pre-boarded).
    Once they settle into their seats, Danny expects Elijah to strike up a conversation with his aisle-seat neighbor. But Elijah keeps a respectful distance. He says hello. He tells his neighbor to let him know if his music gets too loud. And then he puts on his headphones, even though he's supposed to wait.
    Danny offers Elijah a guidebook. Elijah says he'll look at itlater. Danny doesn't want Elijah to wait until the last minute (so predictable), but doesn't bother to say anything. He just sits back and prepares for the flight. He is ready for takeoff. He loves takeoff. Takeoff is precisely the thing he wants his life to be.
    As the plane lifts, Danny sees that his brother's teeth are clenched. Elijah's fingers grip at his shirt, twisting it.
    “Are you okay?” Danny asks as the plane bumps a little.
    Elijah opens his eyes.
    “I'm fine,” he says, his face deathly pale.
    Then he shuts his eyes again and makes his music louder.
    Danny stares at his brother for a moment, then closes his own eyes.
Fodor's
can wait for a few minutes. Right now, all Danny wants to do is rise.

Elijah tries to translate the music into pictures. He tries to translate the music into thoughts. The plane is rising. Elijah is falling. He is seeing himself falling. He is blasting his music and still thinking that the whole
concept
of flying in an airplane is ridiculous. Like riding an aluminum toilet paper roll into outer space. What was he thinking? The music isn't translating. New Order cannot give him order. The bizarre love triangle is falling falling falling into the Bermuda Triangle.
    Enough. This will have to be enough. The takeoff is almost over. The plane is flying steadily. Elijah inhales. He feels like he's gone an hour without breathing. Danny hasn't noticed. Danny is in Guidebook Country. Danny doesn't think twice about flying. He doesn't think twice about Elijah, really.
    And if the plane were to crash…Elijah thinks about those final seconds. It could be as long as a minute, he's heard. What would he and Danny have to say to each other? Would everything suddenly be all right? Elijah thinks it might be, and that gives him a strange, momentary hope. Really, Cal would be a better doomsday companion. But Danny might do.
    Imagining this scenario makes it okay. Elijah is okay as long as he can picture the wreck.
    The captain turns off the fasten-seat-belt light. Danny unfastens his, even though he doesn't have to get up. Elijah leaves his on.
    There is a tap on his shoulder. Not Danny. The other side.
    “Excuse me,” the woman next to him is saying. He takes the headphones off his ears, to be polite.
    “Oh,” the woman says, “you didn't have to do that. I have nothing against New Order, but it was getting a little loud, and you said to let you know….” She trails off.
    “You like New Order?” Elijah asks.
    The conversation begins.

Elijah loves
the conversation
. Whatever conversation. The tentative first steps. The shyness. Wondering whether it's going to happen and where it will go. He hates surface talk. He wants to dive right through it. With anyone. Because anyone he talks to seems to have something worthwhile to say.
    The first steps are always the most awkward; he can tell almost immediately whether the surface is water or ice. The dancing of the eyes—
Are we going to have this conversation or not?
The first words—the common ground.
And how have you found yourself here? Where are you going?
—two simple questions that can lead to days of words.
    “You like New Order?” Elijah asks.
    The woman laughs. “In college. I loved New Order, but I had a Joy Division boyfriend. I wanted to hang out, he wanted to hang