Plane To See

TW: Some homophobia.

I sigh and heave my bag into the overhead.

I look down and I’m stunned, then the person behind me asks, “If you’re done, may you please sit so we can pass?”

I shake my head then nod, saying, “Of course, sorry.” I gingerly sit in my seat, not fastening the buckle, hoping a person will sit between us.

I feel his eyes on me. I can see him looking from the corners of my own.

I can’t do this.

The flight attendant announces that the door is closing, so I close my eyes. The air being shut in makes my ears pop. No one sat between us.

Why do I have to sit by him? I wonder if I can move or switch seats with someone who wants an aisle. That’s childish, Toby. Just go to sleep.

I open my eyes and look over. His eyes are closed and he’s resting on the window. His eyebrows are crinkled and his breathing is quick, matching my own. He looks like he did when we broke up. I wanted to stay—we both wanted me to stay—but I had to leave my parent’s house. I couldn’t—I don’t want to be the cause of him feeling like this.

“Hello, Paul.” My voice breaks before saying his name. “I—”

I don’t know what I was going to say.

“Hi, Toby.” His voice is low and gravelly as ever. The sound reverberates inside my skull like it was meant to be there.

“You look good, Pollen.” The nickname falls out of my mouth, which I cover with my hand. I had stopped calling him that before I…

“You do too, Toe Beans.” He answers with a pained smile. “A bit more salt in your hair to season your life, though.”

“And yours is just as stunningly yellow as it used to be.”

It’s almost as easy as before. The flight attendant holds up a seatbelt showing us how to fasten and unfasten them. I hastily close myself into the seat. Paul and I silently stare at the man going through the motions of safety. He finishes, but the quietness lingers across the empty barrier between the two of us.

His leg bounces up and down as his hand grips the armrest. I offer my hand over the seat. He looks at it, then back to my eyes with confusion but grabs it anyway. His grasp is tight, but familiar. The warmth of his strong fingers holds mine. His ever-present callouses remind me of the slight scratchiness I would feel every time he caressed my face. My cheek. The back of my neck. I almost rub the back of his hand with my thumb. He says, “Thank you, I think. Still makes me…” The plane rumbles and he doesn’t finish his thought. Once the flight steadies, he quickly releases my hand.

He asks, “How are your parents?”

Going straight into it then, I guess.

…He doesn’t know about my dad yet, how am I going to—

“I mean, you don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.”

I must have been quiet for too long. He never did like silences. If he’s going to rip the bandage off, I might as well too.

“My mom is fine. Doing really well these days actually. So much better after Lucas passed away. We both are. Doing better because of it, I mean.”

His mouth drops open and he reaches for my arm. After a second, he pulls back then says, “I’m sorry." He pauses, then says, "Well, should I be?”

A snicker escapes my throat. I look away and am met with the flight attendant.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh.” I didn’t realize they were serving drinks already. “Can I get a cranberry juice, and he’ll get a diet coke.”

Paul looks at me and the attendant confirms my request. Paul nods towards him. “Yes, please.” We accept our drinks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out.”

The crisp sound of the can opening stings my ears. I recall the sweet taste of it that used to linger on his lips.

I swallow at the thought, taking a sip of my juice. Not quite the same.

“You remembered.”

“It’s just soda. I mean—of course I did. How could I forget?”

“Can I ask what happened to Lucas?”

He noticed that I didn’t call him dad.

“His smoking finally caught up to him. Hung on for a few years, but the chemo and radiation drained everything out of him. Passed in his sleep a few months after we decided, well he decided, to stop treatment.”

“That’s awful.” He wipes away condensation from his can.

“He still remembered you, remembered us in the end. ‘You still see Trevor’s son?’ I’m not sorry that he died. He said it with the same vitriol as before. Same grunt in his voice. Same slur injected within. Didn’t even have to say it.”

“Can I use the restroom?” He asks, getting up.

“I, what? I mean, yes, of course.”

I stand, and he shuffles out of the narrow seating into the aisle.

He wraps his arms around me with a sniffle. I fall into his heavy embrace. His whole body pressed against mine. My eyes close as he holds me up, strong and gentle. For a moment, there’s nothing in the world but the oaky smell of his hair, and the softness of his beard tickling my neck. He turns to the restroom, tears in his eyes. I awkwardly stand in the aisle, watching him walk away.

I collapse back into my seat and the woman across the aisle offers a small smile which I return. My heart heavy and shoulders light as I gather myself back up.

What if I had the courage to stay back then, would things be different? Could Lucas ever have learned to accept us? Paul would have been fine. I don't think his family cared about us being together. But I had to leave. Had to …run away. Learn to become the man my damn father didn’t want me to be.

A hand touches my shoulder and I look up to see Paul.

I remove myself from my thoughts and let him pass. He plunks down into the middle seat so I laugh. His eyes are slightly red and puffy, but I don’t say anything.

After an eternity, he says, “I loved you, Toby.”

“After all these years, I think I loved you too, Paul. I didn’t even love myself, but you were the one thing, no, one person I could count on. Be myself around.”

He lays his head on my shoulder and whispers, “If only you figured it out sooner.”

“I think I knew deep down that’s what it was, but I was scared of …Lucas. Frightened I might be gay. Even Mom was terrified of letting Dad know, thinking of what he would do to me if he found out. But I guess in the end he knew anyway.”

“Yeah, we thought we were sneaky, didn’t we?” He laughs. “When I came out, my parents rolled their eyes. Fuckin’ rolled their eyes and said ‘We know’ like it was obvious. Even said they were just waiting for me to tell them. Mom caught us kissing once, but didn’t say anything.”

I laugh. “Well, I’m here now. Want to meet my Mom again? I think she’d like that. I mean, she knows about me. Being queer, I mean. Gay.”

I shut up and kiss the top of his hair, then rest my head on his own. His chest rises and falls with mine like before, but calmly this time. We don’t say anything, but he holds my arm and I quietly cry as we descend into the ground as the plane lands.

Finally, off the plane, I turn to Paul and say, “Call me. Text me. Email me. Write me a letter. I don’t know, keep in contact somehow. Let’s have dinner with my Mom. Or alone. Or—”

I breathe in deeply as he does something long awaited which makes me forget everything all at once, slowly and forever, as his soft beard tickles my lips. The taste of diet coke plunges me back into the cold of the lake. He tackled me off our old dock and I splashed his face in the night. His warmth keeps me sane like it did then in the freezing water which is now made of the people around us.

“Of course, Toe Beans. Want to catch something now? I only have this.” He holds his old yellow duffel bag. The one I gave him all those years ago. The color of—

“Pollen... Yes, let's eat. Where to?”

His hand takes mine as we walk off through the waves of people. The callouses fit perfectly within my own.

—Pollen. I hope we can repair this. Fix us once again.