Ask the Passengers

I feel my whole face go hot. “Oh.” Reason number 543 Dee Roberts was a bad first choice. She has dated a lot of girls, and I haven’t dated any.

“She—you know—chose the wrong side. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Chose the wrong side?”

“Yeah. She found some guy she really liked, and now she’s all hetero.”

I sigh deeply and lie back down to look at the sky. No airplanes. No passengers to ask. So I ask the clouds. Did you guys know there’s a wrong side and a right side? Why didn’t you tell me?

The clouds don’t answer.

“So when you said shit or get off the pot, you didn’t mean for me to make up my mind,” I say. “You meant for me to just come out, be g*y, and be done with it.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t see what the holdup is.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I say. “Obviously, this was a piece of cake for you.”

“Are you saying you might not be g*y? That this is all just some kind of joke or something?”

“It’s not a joke.”

“So what is it, then?”

“It’s a question. And I’m answering it. But I don’t know the answer yet, and I’m sorry.”

She lies back down and crosses her arms.

“And you shouldn’t dis Deanna Klinger. Maybe she realized she wasn’t what she thought she was,” I say. “People change, you know?”

“Are you gonna change?” she asks.

“How am I supposed to know? I can’t see the future,” I answer.

We lie there, and when a plane finally appears in the sky, I picture a cabin full of fliers getting excited about their destinations, and I ask: Isn’t it enough to be in love with Dee’s amazing eyes and the smell of her hair? Isn’t it enough that she thinks I’m funny? That we have fun when we mess around at work? Why does everything come with a strict definition? Who made all these boxes?

PASSENGER #0098

JOHN KIMBALL, SEAT 22B

FLIGHT #1209

CHARLOTTE TO ALLENTOWN

Jenny is asleep, and I watch her breathing in the seat next to me. I think about what she said last night. I think about what I said last night. I can’t figure out if we were having the same conversation or what.

All I know is that I asked her to marry me and outlined my plan. I told her that we should wait until we’re done with grad school. I told her that we should stay in the area because she has a good chance of getting that job at U of P.

I’d practiced the speech for weeks. I made reservations at the resort for our weekend vacation. I bought the ring in March. March. I never guessed in a million years that she’d give it back to me. I touch my pants pocket from the outside and feel the ring there against my leg.

I stare at her beautiful sleeping head and try to extract her reasoning. She wouldn’t answer my questions last night. Don’t you want to get married? Don’t you love me? Is it the ring? Did I do something wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me?

As I look out the window, I get a feeling of dread in my chest. Like someone is poking me in the throat. Maybe she doesn’t love you, John. Maybe she’s using you for your car. That’s my mother. She’s said that all along. And other stuff. But as I look out the window, all I can think is how wrong my mother is about this. Jenny has always loved me. We’re soul mates. It was love at first sight. I know it.

So why’d she say no?

She didn’t even say maybe or let me think about it. She just said no.

I pretend to cough, and jostle my elbow so she wakes up. This only makes her turn over a little. I do it again and then stroke her head and tell her that we’re landing soon. I give her a minute to stretch and do some neck rolls, but that’s all.

“Can we talk about this?” I ask.

“Here?”

“I can’t drop you off and then drive to my parents’ house without knowing why,” I say. “It’s not fair that you won’t tell me.”

When she looks at me, she looks heartbroken. “I can’t. It’s too hard to talk about,” she says, and tears roll down her face.

“Why are you doing this to us?” I ask. “Why can’t you just say yes?” I reach into my pocket and retrieve the ring. “Just say yes.” I’m sobbing. This would be a first for her—seeing me sobbing—and it seems to flick a switch.

She stares at me seriously. “My mom told me that a Jewish boy marrying a non-Jew is like a mini death for his family. I can’t do that to your family.”

“What? That’s completely insane. Anyway, who cares? It’s not like either of us goes to church, right? Is that all this is about?” I shake my head and feel relief. It’s so good to know that it’s not me or the ring or anything else. It’s just something stupid her mom said.

“That’s not what your mom said to me the last time we were at your house for dinner,” she says. “In fact, your mom seems to agree a hundred percent with my mom. I think that’s where my mom got the idea.”

I say, “What?” but it’s rhetorical and she knows this. She hugs me, and though I have a small feeling of wanting to scream at my mother when I get home tonight, I hug Jenny, and all I can think about is how much I love her and how out of control I feel after all the work I did to make this the most perfect engagement ever. I have no idea what to do. And then… I suddenly know what to do.

My chest tightens with nerves. “Look,” I say, holding the ring up. She has a pained look on her face. Then I stand and face all the people behind me. A planeful of strangers. I hold up the ring. “I am madly in love with Jennifer Ulrich, and I want her to marry me. She is the kindest, smartest, most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I want to live my whole life with her. All she has to do is say yes.”

I look down at Jenny, and she’s partly smiling and partly mortified.

“She’s all freaked out that I’m telling you this, but I want to make something clear. I don’t give a crap where she came from, and I don’t give a crap what my mother said to her. I want to marry her, and I’m not going to let anyone stop us.”

The people on the plane smile at me. Jenny stands up.

I face her and ask again. “Will you marry me?”

When she says yes and I slip the ring onto her finger, the plane erupts with yelling and applause, and it’s as if all of us are possessed by something we will never understand.