He tells himself to get a grip. Cal is driving him forward. Cal and everyone else will be here when he returns. It's like he's traveling into another dimension. Time here will stop. Because he is entering Family Standard Time. None of it will carry over to Cal, to the Camaro, to the state of Connecticut.
He will go with his brother. He will have a good time. Life will be waiting for him when he gets back. Not a bad deal.
Elijah smiles at Cal. But Cal isn't looking. Then she turns to him as if she knows. She smiles back and blasts the music louder.
Danny's mother drives him. He lives in New York City. Therefore, he doesn't have a car of his own. When he wants to travel far, he signs out a company car. But this time, his mother won't hear of it. Those are her exact words—“I won't hear of it”—as if it's news of an ignoble death.
“Just be nice to him,” his mother is saying now. He's heard this before. Just be nice to him. He heard it after he dared Elijah to poke the hanger in the socket. After he put glue in Elijah's socks, telling him it was foot lotion. After he turned off the hot water while Elijah was in the shower. For the fifth time.
Elijah could have retaliated. But he never even tattled. Elijah has always taken his mother's words to heart. Elijah can just be nice. Sometimes, Danny thinks this is all Elijah can be.
“I mean it,” his mother stresses. Then her tone shifts and Danny thinks, Yes, she does mean it.
“I worry about you.” She looks straight ahead while turning the radio down. Danny thinks it remarkable that she still doesn't look old. “Really, I do worry about you. I worry about you both, and that you won't have each other. There aren't many times that I wish you were younger. But when I remember the way the two of you would get along—you cared about him so much. When he was a baby, you were always feeling his head and coming to me and saying he had a fever. Or you'd wake us up, worrying he'd been kidnapped. All night, I had to reassure you that he was okay. Staying up with the older son instead of the baby. But it was worth it. In the middle of the night, when you couldn't sleep, you'd beg me to take you to Eli's room. And when I did, you would sing to him. He was already asleep, and still you wanted to sing him a lullaby. I would whisper with you. It was so wonderful, even if it was three in the morning. For a few years after, you watched over him. And then something happened. And I wish I knew what it was. Because I'd undo it in a second.”
“But, Mom—”
“Don't interrupt.” She holds up her hand.“You know it's important to your father. It's important to me. It's also important to you. I don't think you realize it yet. You both can be so nice and so smart and so generous. I just don't understand why you can't be that way with each other.”
Danny wants to say something to assure his mother. He wants to tell her he loves Elijah, but he's afraid it won't sound convincing.
So they remain silent. Eventually, Danny turns the radio up a little and Mrs. Silver shifts lanes to make the airport turnoff. She asks Danny if he's remembered his traveler's checks, his passport, his guidebooks.
“Of course I remembered them,” Danny responds.“I'm your son, after all.”
That gets a smile. And Danny is happy, because even if he can't do anything else right, at least he can still make his mother smile.
Cal doesn't want to stay for the Silver family reunion. After she speeds away in the bitchin' Camaro, Elijah waves goodbye for a full minute before entering the airport.
He finds his mother and brother easily enough.
“So where's your girlfriend?” Danny asks as Mrs. Silver hugs Elijah tightly.
“She's not my girlfriend.”
“So where is she?” Danny is wearing a suit. For the airplane.
“She had to go.” Elijah can't stand still. His sneakers keep squeaking on the linoleum. He doesn't know whether it's the suit that makes Danny look old or whether it's just life. He is filling out, as their mother would say, as if the outline of his adult self was always there, waiting. Elijah thinks this is scary.
“I brought you danish,” Mrs. Silver says, handing Elijah a white box tied with bakery string.
“You're the greatest,” Elijah announces. And he means it. Because he knows the bakery, he can see his mother holding the number in her hand, hoping against hope that they'll have blueberry, because that's his favorite.
Mrs. Silver blushes. Danny gazes intently at a newsstand.
“I need to buy gum,” he says.
“Oh, I have gum.” Mrs. Silver's purse is opened in a flash.
“Yeah, sugarless. I don't want sugarless. I'll just go get some Juicy Fruit, okay?”
“Oh,” Mrs. Silver sighs. “Do you need money?”
Danny smiles. “I think I can afford a pack of gum, Mom.” Then he's off, dropping his bag at Elijah's feet.
“I'll take some Trident,” Elijah offers.
Mrs. Silver rummages again and unearths a blue pack and a green pack.
“Sorry, no red,” she says with a smile as she hands the gum over.
“No problem. Thanks.” Elijah tucks the gum into his pocket. He doesn't like either blue or green, but he doesn't mind taking it. Someone else on the plane might want some.
While Danny buys his gum (and newspapers and Advil and a hardcover legal thriller), Elijah asks about his father's leg, and she tells him it's getting better. He thanks her again for the trip—he is sure it's going to be great, there are so many things he wants to see. She thinks his hair is a little too long, but doesn't say anything. (The telltale look at his collar gives her away.)
“So are we ready?” Danny is back.
“Ready as we'll never be,” Elijah replies. Danny's tie is caught in his shoulder-bag strap. Elijah is inordinately pleased by this.
There's an issue that has to be resolved immediately. Danny, bearer of the tickets, brings it up as soon as he and Elijah are through security.
“So,” he asks, “do you want the window seat or the middle seat?”
“Up to you.”
Of course. Danny knew this was going to happen. Clearly, the window seat is preferable to the middle seat. And politeness decrees that whoever chooses first will have to choose the middle seat. Elijah must know this. Typical Elijah. He seems so kind. But really, he is passive-aggressive.
(“Why can't you be more like your brother?” his parents would ask when he was seventeen.
“Because he's ten!” Danny would shout before slamming his door closed.)
“You don't have any preference?” Danny asks. “None whatsoever?”
Elijah shrugs. “Whatever you want. I'm just going to sleep.”
“But wouldn't it be easier for you to have the window seat, then?” Danny continues, a little too urgently.
“It's no big deal. I'll take the middle seat if you want me to.”
Great. Now Elijah is the martyr. Danny can't stand it when Elijah plays the martyr. But if it gets him the window seat …
“Fine. You can have the middle seat.”
“Thanks.”
At the gate, they have to cool their heels for almost an hour. Danny is bothered despite his desire not to be bothered. (It bothers him even more to be bothered against his will.) Elijah reads a British music magazine and listens to his headphones. Because Elijah slumps in his seat, Danny doesn't realize they're now the same height. All he notices is Elijah's ragged haircut, the small silver hoop piercing the top of his earlobe.
Danny tries to read the book he bought, but it doesn't work.He is too distracted.Not only because he's bothered.He is slowly crossing over. He is realizing for the first time that, yes, he is about to go to Italy. Every trip has this time—the shift into happening. Before things can go badly or go well, there is always the first moment when expectation turns to now.
Danny relaxes a little. He puts away his book and takes out his Fodor's Venice. Minutes later, there is a call for boarding. Danny gathers his things for pre-boarding. Elijah pointedly makes them wait until their row is called.
“You're sure you don'
t want the window seat?” Danny asks as they walk the ramp to the plane.
“Not unless you want the middle seat,” Elijah answers.
Danny waves the subject 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 it later. 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 himself. We were doomed from the start.”
The conversation continues.
Danny can't help but overhear them. Elijah is, after all, sitting at his elbow, taking up the armrest. Chatting away with the woman about disco groups. Unbelievable. Talking about college and girlfriends and Elijah's prom. (“She disappeared after the second song, but that was okay….”) Danny usually assumes that lonely people are the only ones who have conversations on airplanes. Now he is faced with a dilemma: Is he wrong, or is Elijah lonely? To sidestep the issue entirely, Danny decides that Elijah is an exception. Elijah, as always, is being unusually kind. While he himself is not lonely, he doesn't mind talking to lonely people. He is the Mother Teresa of banter.
Danny silently waits for his introduction, the moment when Elijah gestures to him and says, “This is my brother.” Danny plans to put his guidebook down, smile a hello (taking a good look at the woman, who's about ten years older than him, but still attractive), and then make a hasty retreat back to Inns & Hotels.
But the conversation never drifts his way. Instead, they are talking about Roman Holiday. Danny can't believe it when Elijah says how much he loves Audrey Hepburn. He can understand it, but he can't believe it, for it's an adoration that he himself shares. Danny isn't used to having something in common with Elijah, however slight. Their last name is the rope that ties them together. And now there is also this tiny thread. Audrey Hepburn.
Danny thinks about this for a moment. (If Elijah were to look over, he would notice his brother hasn't turned the page in the past ten minutes.) As Elijah and this stranger discuss the ending of Roman Holiday and how it makes them feel (sad, happy), Danny wonders whether it's true that everyone, at heart, likes Audrey Hepburn. So the similarity isn't that strange at all. It's as commonplace as the desire to eat when hungry. It doesn't link the two brothers any more than that.
That is something Danny can believe.
“So this is your brother?” Penelope whispers, pointing over Elijah's shoulder. He doesn't know why she is whispering. Then he turns and sees that Danny has fallen asleep on his tray table, the edge of his shoulder spotlighted by the overhead lamp.
“Do you think he needs a pillow?” Elijah asks.
“No. He'll be all right.”
Elijah reaches over the armrest and presses the lightbulb button. Then he turns back to Penelope and asks her if she has any brothers or sisters. She has three sisters, one of whom is getting married in a matter of months.
“She's older than me, thank God,” Penelope says with a sigh. “I have to wear this hideous dress. I told her—I said, ‘This dress is hideous.’ Her dress is gorgeous, by the way. Bridesmaids only exist to make the brides look good. I don't care what anyone says. It's not an honor. It's a mockery.
“Her dress has a train. When I saw it, I just started to cry. Not because I'm not the one who's getting married. I can handle that. But to see my sister in a white satin train—it was like we were playing dress-up again. She'd always let my mother's dresses trail behind her. Of course, I'd jump on them and try to trip her up. And I was always the one who got in trouble for the footprints— it didn't matter that the bottom was also covered with dust. Anyway—seeing her at the fitting, it struck me that I can't jump on her dress anymore. I can't pull it over her head and show her underwear to the congregation. I can't even tell her that it isn't hers, that she has to put it back in the closet before our mother comes home. No, it's hers. And it's her.”
Penelope shakes her head.
Boys never dress up as grooms, Elijah thinks. They never practice their own weddings like girls do. But there are other kinds of pairs. He remembers Batman and Robin. Luke and Han. Frodo and Aragorn. Cowboy and Indian.
There was only a year or two for those games, before Danny started dressing up in a different way. This time, the character he was playing was the cooler version of himself, shopping at the mall for the perf
ect costume, trying to blend in and stand out at the same time. It was never explained to Elijah, and he wasn't old enough to figure it out. All he knew was that one day his brother stopped wanting to be a superhero, stopped wanting to save their backyard world. Elijah stopped dressing up then, too. He retreated to the realm of his room, to his drawings, to his stuffed animals.
It wasn't the same.
Sisters dress up to rehearse for what will really happen to them. But brothers, Elijah realizes, are never rehearsing that way. They rehearse their own illusions, until reality takes a turn and they are asked to rehearse for other things. You go to school. You graduate. You sell snack cakes. You hang up your cape and put on a suit.
Danny wakes up into the strange timeless nighttime of air travel. The window shades are drawn. The flight attendants float down the aisle like guardian angels. The guidebook has fallen at his feet. A woman is talking.
“…And then, it was the strangest thing, I walk into the room and there's Courtney Love. Have I told you this? No? Good. So I can't believe it. Now, this is after she was the lead singer of—what was it called?—Hole. Don't think I'm that old. I'm not that old. So it's after Hole, and I walk into the room, and there she is. I can't believe it. So I walk over to her and offer her a joint. Real cool. I can tell that my boyfriend's real impressed at how smooth I am. And she says yes. But neither of us has a match. I'm fumbling around, pulling the rolling papers and the dope out of my pockets, and I can't find a light! So my boyfriend just leans over, Courtney looks up at him, and all smooth, he lights her up. I'm still there fumbling. She says thanks to him, offers him a puff, and when he's done he doesn't even offer it to me. Because now they're talking and sharing and it's like I'm not even there. I say his name, and he just gives me one of those side smiles. I can't believe it. Some other guys join the conversation and I'm out of the circle. And I'm sure Courtney has seen me. But does she say anything? No. Not a word. My boyfriend's treating her like the Pope and my head's all screwed up, so I just say real loud, ‘Well, why don't you just kiss her ring! ’ Everyone stares at me. Like, it makes perfect sense to me, but I'm the only person in the room with the context. I have to get out of there. Right away. My boyfriend's staring at me like I just called his mother a whore. And everyone else thinks I'm insulting Her Highness Courtney Love. So I run out of the room. But I'm not looking where I'm going—I crash into this guy in the door-way—and that's how I met Billy Corgan.”
Are We There Yet? Page 2