Are We There Yet?. David LevithanЧитать онлайн книгу.
a conversation with his aisle-seat neighbour. But Elijah keeps a respectful distance. He says hello. He tells his neighbour 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 OK?” 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 aluminium 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 OK. Elijah is OK 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 OK …”) 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 honour. 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 any more. 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 practise 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