UP IN THE AIR

Many transgender people find themselves in the position of meeting someone they're interested in during their transition - or they wonder what they would do if it happened to them. Dana has exactly that happen! She is just beginning the process of transitioning from male to female when her life takes an interesting turn on an airplane. Will she crash and burn or will her love life take flight?

UP IN THE AIR

“Um, excuse me? I think you’re in my seat,” the voice stammered.

I looked up from my book to see a shy sandy blonde with blue eyes standing there, her cheeks colored by a blush, broadcasting her uncomfortable awareness of the aisle full of people standing behind her.

The passenger in front of her bought her some time by precariously cramming his suitcase into an overhead compartment - directly above my head.

Jesus, I hope he doesn’t drop that!

Despite the threat of death by loaded Gucci, the girl’s face drew my gaze as I shrank into my seat. Making eye contact for the first time, I noticed how pretty her eyes were. Oh, wow! She captivated me as though I were a cat peering at something shiny.

“I-I’m sorry. Am I in the wrong spot?” God, I hope I’m not sitting in her seat! I inwardly winced at the likelihood that I had just made an ass of myself.

I had to tear my eyes away from hers to look at my ticket. She had the kind of eyes that I could bathe in, large blue ones as pretty as the summer sky.

Carefully, I marked my place in my book and teased my ticket out of the backpack beneath the seat in front of mine.

And sure enough.

That figures. The one time a pretty girl comes my way, what do I do? I sit in her seat.

“Uh . . . gee, you’re right. I’m sorry about that. I really can read,” I tried to joke, holding up my book.

“That’s okay,” she giggled. “Um, actually, if . . . if you’d rather sit on the aisle, I-I kind of prefer the window anyway.”

I really couldn’t care less. Airplane seats are all uncomfortable as hell! Besides, I’d much rather admire you than anything I could see out that window!

“Sure, I’m happy to trade!” I jumped out of my seat so she could get in. “Do you want any help putting your bag in the overhead?”

I probably can’t even lift the damned thing, but maybe together, we could-

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’d rather put it under the seat. It’s kind of heavy. Besides, I think these things belong on the floor — preferably on wheels!” She began to maneuver her carry-on into our row.

“Yeah, definitely!” I agreed readily, gesturing to my purple backpack with its bright yellow wheels. Jesus, I didn’t realize it looked so girly when I bought it!

The passengers behind the girl began growling and muttering. I heard some jerk curse under his breath, but I couldn’t be bothered to look in his direction.

Instead, I stood there, befuddled, watching the sandy blonde clamber into her seat, wondering how a guy was supposed to help a girl with her suitcase when she wasn’t putting it overhead.

It was at the moment she slid it beneath the seat in front of her that I realized I could have offered to put it there for her. Yeah, well, too late now. Great. Very nice.

Part of me wondered why she hadn’t asked for help. I wondered if it might be a point of pride for her to handle her own bag - or a statement that a woman didn’t need a man’s help.

* * * * *

Nervously, I sat down next to her as she fastened her seat belt. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her smiling at me as I secured my own seat belt, tugging on the loose end to tighten it. Now that she wasn’t holding people up, she was more at ease — making her that much more charming.

Wow, sitting next to her, I am going to be a gibbering idiot for the next five and a half hours, but better her than some chatty old lady who wants to show me pictures of her cats and tell me all about her health problems! Either that or some dude drenched in cheap cologne — or an inconsolable crying baby-

“Hello-o?” she giggled.

My head jerked up as my brain finally registered that the pretty girl was asking me a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was miles away.” In the land of the Jackass. “Uh, what were you asking?”

“What’s your name?” she laughed.

“Oh,” I chuckled. “I’m Dana. What’s your name?”

“Jenna.”

“Jenner?”

“No, it’s Jenna. With an ‘a’ at the end. Common mistake,” she shrugged.

“Jenna. I’ve got it now. Sorry.”

Jesus, I’m batting a thousand here!

“It’s okay if you’re a little . . . well, nervous. I am, too,” Jenna smiled, her blush intensifying.

“Yeah, I guess I am nervous,” I answered with some relief, smiling back at her.

Shit! What am I thinking? Being nervous around a girl is NOT manly!

“I-I mean, I’m scared of flying.” Damn it!! I mentally smacked myself.

I dared to check if Jenna was still smiling and found that she was. That’s a relief. Wow, it’s so different talking to Jenna!

Normally, I struggled to put two words together when talking to a girl. With Jenna, I was not the usual nervous wreck — and she didn’t make me feel like a total turn-off! Moreover, she was nervous around me!

My eyes strayed from her face down her healthy-looking body and I noticed what she was wearing. She had on a simple combination of a denim skirt, burgundy tights and matching sweater, but she looked wonderful. When my gaze lingered a bit too long, I moved it back where it belonged before it took on an untoward meaning.

I didn’t want Jenna to think I was ogling her. I could see the person behind her eyes. Something about the way she stared at me spoke of her uncertainty, her appraisal, her amusement . . . and something I couldn’t quite identify.

Thankfully, she was still smiling.

Shit. Less thinking; more talking. Go!

“S-so, um . . . are you from here?”

“Yeah, born and raised.”

“Me too.”

The plane began to taxi toward the runway. Meanwhile, the lights dimmed as the safety video started.

“So what part of town do you live in?” I wondered aloud.

“Liberty Hill.”

“Liberty Hill? Oh, above the Castro?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

“Nice! Lots of cute Victorian homes up there!”

“Yeah, definitely. So how about you?”

“I’m in the Richmond.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Nah, Liberty Hill’s probably better. The Richmond is kind of boring,” I chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So . . . is it okay if I ask, um, you know, where you’re headed?” I continued.

“You mean after we land in Boston?” her face took on a slightly puzzled, yet amused look as she giggled. “I go to school in Concord, about forty-five minutes out of Boston.”

“Are you serious? Me too!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” I smiled brightly. “I go to Middlebrook High!”

“So do I!” her smile matched mine.

“Wow! That’s so cool!" I marveled.

“Yeah! So, um . . . what year are you?” Jenna hazarded.

“I’m a freshman. You?”

“Me too! M-maybe we’ll have some classes together!”

“Yeah, maybe!”

Gawd, I sure would like that!

Our conversation picked up and we enjoyed a good chat as the airplane came to a stop just before entering the runway. Oh, God, we’re about to take off, I swallowed. I couldn’t quite shake my case of nerves. I couldn’t tell how much of it was from my fear of flying, as opposed to being nervous around Jenna, but I made a solid effort to enjoy myself.

The good news is that if this conversation keeps up, I won’t need my book to distract me from my fear of flying! Dare I hope? I wondered as the captain’s voice echoed through the cabin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, we are next in line for takeoff. Please fasten your seat belts, return your seats to their upright positions and stow your tray-tables in their upright and locked positions. Flight time is approximately five and one half hours. Once we reach our cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet, we’ll be starting our breakfast service, and we will be showing an in-flight film, called Serendipity. If there’s anything you need, our flight attendants will be happy to assist, so please sit back . . . and enjoy your flight. We know there are many airlines to choose from, so thank you for choosing Air-”

“Seat belts fastened?” A flight attendant buzzed by, making sure all was ready for takeoff.

Jenna and I checked our seat belts to ensure they were tight enough. As we finished, our hands went for the armrest between us at the same time and her hand landed on top of mine. For several moments I sat there, frozen, staring at our hands, feeling the electricity coursing through my arm, wondering if she felt it, too.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she tittered, using her electric hand to cover her mouth.

“No worries,” I breathed as I put my hands sheepishly together in my lap.

I didn’t know what to say next, and I doubted that she did, either. We smiled at each other, our faces burning as the plane took to the skies.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was screaming that we were airborne and I wanted to be afraid, but Jenna’s smile made me feel safe. Of course, she is one hell of a distraction! Okay, she’s not Victoria’s Secret beautiful, but she is my idea of beautiful!

Her company did wonders for my fear of flying. Ordinarily, I spent the entire flight stressed out and gripping my armrests, with my eyes squeezed shut during any turbulence.

Not this time.

We spent the next three hours engrossed in conversation, sharing beliefs, preferences, and tastes. We had a great deal in common. I had never felt so comfortable talking to a girl in my entire life.

However, the more we connected, the more apprehensive I felt. There was something I had held back from telling her because I was sure it would kill any interest in me that she might entertain. Yet, keeping it from her was dishonest. I couldn’t consider allowing anything to happen without opening up to her. At the same time, I had no idea how to tell her what I needed to. Feeling the weight of the dilemma that stared me in the face, I let out a forlorn sigh.

“Are you okay, Dana?” Jenna gently placed her hand on my forearm, unleashing another charge of electricity, unknowingly making things worse.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I tried to smile, but I could feel the conflict showing on my face.

“Are you sure?”

Before I could answer, we hit a patch of moderate turbulence. The plane felt as though it were riding roller-coaster tracks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are encountering some turbulence. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts. It shouldn’t last more than a few minutes. Thank you.”

I grabbed the armrests, breathing rapidly as my knuckles turned white. Christ, I think I’m shaking as much as the plane!

“Oh, that’s right. You mentioned that you hate to fly,” she remarked with sympathy.

“Y-yeah, I do,” I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my teeth. “M-maybe boarding school wasn’t such a g-good idea!” I tried to joke.

“Well, think of it this way,” she chuckled. “If you weren’t going to boarding school, we wouldn’t have met.”

“That’s true,” I admitted.

“Aw, your poor girl. You really are nervous.”

Jenna gently took my hand, raised the armrest between us and slipped her other arm around me to comfort me, making me respond in all kinds of ways. I loved having her arm around my shoulders, where I could swear it belonged.

“Th-thanks.”

“You’re welcome. It’s okay, we’re perfectly safe. The ground is over six miles away. We’ve got plenty of space to move around.”

My smile fled my face as I tensed.

“T-try not to t-tell me how f-far up we are,” I tried to giggle.

“Oh, okay. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

We spent several minutes with me in her embrace, as the plane soared and dipped. While I held on to Jenna for dear life, I wrestled with the angst that riddled me. She was a great girl but I had terrible trouble believing that she would be romantically interested in someone like me.

When the flight steadied, I took a big breath of relief, but Jenna held on for a few more moments — not that I minded. Gradually, I smiled at her.

“Thanks. I needed that. I really am scared of flying!”

“No problem at all. I could tell how frightened you were.”

“Yeah,” I sheepishly lowered my eyes.

“Anyway, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Me?” I looked back into her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sure I’ll survive the flight,” I joked.

“I wasn’t talking about that, silly. I was talking about the look on your face right before the turbulence started.”

Oh shit. “Oh, that? Um . . .” Holy shit, what the hell do I say?? “Okay, um . . .” I took a nervous breath. “When we . . . when we put our hands on the armrest at the same time and . . . y-your hand was on top of mine, um . . .” I hesitated, looking down again, doubting very much that finishing the question was a good idea.

“Oh my God, you felt it, too?” Her face visibly brightened while mine probably filled with more angst.

“Well, w-what did you feel?” I looked back at her.

“Electricity,” she grinned.

“I felt it, too. It was amazing. That was why I froze up. I’ve never felt anything like it. Ever.”

“Me either!”

“Yeah . . .” I trailed off.

“So . . .” Her smile dimmed like a dying flame. “What’s wrong, Dana?”

Aw, God! I don’t know what to say!

“Oh! I see!”

Jenna got a sneaky look on her face as she leaned over to whisper in my ear.

“It’s okay. I like girls!” She smiled conspiratorially.

Oh no! She thinks I’m a girl! Oh shit! I looked down at my lap. Well, I am a girl, but-

“Dana, what is it?” Jenna put a gentle hand on my shoulder and softly rubbed it.

Damn, that girl could jump-start a car with her hand!

“It’s complicated,” I answered, still unable to look her in the eyes.

“Wait a second!” Jenna leaned close to whisper again.

“Are you a guy?”

I could only bite my lip as I looked up to stare into her beautiful blues. Unfortunately, any possible answer to that question was a half-truth at best. As I struggled to answer her, I felt intense pressure as though I were defusing a bomb.

“W-well . . . that’s what my birth certificate says,” I whispered.

Jenna’s eyebrows rose at my curvy answer to her straightforward question.

“What do you mean?”

“P-please. N-not here.”

I stared at her with a terrible sinking feeling as I realized that my appearance had confused her and I had failed to see it until now.

At the ripe old age of fourteen, my voice had yet to crack. I was small for my age and I had grown my golden-brown hair to my collar bones. My hair elastic had snapped while I readjusted my hair before I boarded the plane. I had spares only in my checked luggage, now in the belly of the plane.

I had almost outgrown the boot cut, tan corduroys I had inherited from an older brother with longer legs. The pants were snug around my waist and thighs but loose around my lower legs — and they hung all the way to my shoes. They looked outright feminine on me.
The pale yellow sweater I wore gave no indication of gender. In the context of my long hair and girly-looking pants, the sweater looked feminine, too!
Suddenly, Jenna softly gasped.

“Wait, you’re not . . . transgender, are you?” she whispered in a worried tone.

I took a resigned breath before I answered, “Yes, Jenna. I am.”

Her face paled at my words.

Without warning, the plane dropped before lurching sharply to one side or the other.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve hit another patch of turbulence and this one’s a bit worse than the last one. There are storms ahead and we’re going to have to fly around them. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts securely across your lap. Thank you.”

I grabbed the armrests again, squeezing my eyes shut and whimpering. For several seconds, Jenna was quiet.

“Dana, come here. Please.” I felt her take my upper left arm and gently pull it toward her, but between the turbulence and Jenna’s cool reaction to my transgender status, I was too overwhelmed to move.

“Dana, whatever else happens . . . don’t make yourself go through this alone. Okay?”

The plane did some interesting acrobatics and I lunged for her, throwing my arms around her.

“It’s okay, Dana. We’re okay.” Suddenly, she tensed. “I-I mean, the . . . the plane’s okay,” she hastily added, briefly closing her eyes.

The plane dropped again before veering sharply to starboard. I yelped as I tightened my grip on her. Jesus! I hope to hell we’re okay! The plane leveled out — after abruptly slumping harshly to port — and soared upward.

Finally, the flight smoothed, the turbulence reduced to mild bumps. Jenna let go of me - and I knew that something had changed. She was still friendly, but the flirt had fled from her. The sparkle I had seen in her eyes had vanished.

“Jenna, I-I’m sorry I clung to you like that. I-”

“It’s really okay. I’m happy to help,” she smiled.

Yet, she pulled away, keeping a friendly distance.

Suddenly, the plane bounced in the air. I gasped as I grabbed the headrest in front of me, leaning my head against it, almost in crash position.

This time, a flight attendant was caught unawares as the cabin floor dropped out from under her while she passed us. She appeared to be suspended a foot in the air for several seconds before landing on her butt in the aisle. Fortunately, she was uninjured.

“Well, that was interesting!” She tried to make a joke and remain professional, though she was visibly shaken.

“Can I get you a drink, stewardess?” an old man kidded her.

“No thanks! I’m on duty!” she smirked. “But as soon as I get off this plane . . .” I heard her finish under her breath.

“Are you okay, miss?” she asked, turning to me.

Um, awkward!! Well, correcting her on it will only create more problems than it’s worth!

“Y-yes, I’m okay, thank you. I’m just kind of afraid of flying.”

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t you worry, sweetheart. The pilots have extensive training for just this sort of thing. We’ll get you there, you’ll see.”

You would be so much more credible if you weren’t trembling, I couldn’t help but think.

“I know. Thank you,” I acknowledged.

“You’re welcome.”

The stewardess continued carefully down the aisle just far enough to reach her seat and strap herself in.

“You see? We’re okay,” Jenna tried to console me, as I gripped the seatback in front of me.

“I know. Thanks.”

The plane continued to be thrown about by whatever atmospheric chaos we’d flown into.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are in the midst of a severe weather system.”

“Oh, is that what that was?” I muttered, winning a reluctant giggle from Jenna.

“This weather developed very rapidly on all sides and we are caught in the middle of it. But not to worry. I have personally flown through much worse than this without a scrape, so please remain calm until it’s over. As soon as we pull through this weather, we’ll be resuming our beverage service.” That got the entire cabin giggling. “Thank you.”

Nice joke, but still . . . something about that didn’t sound right to me. It’s hard to imagine it getting much worse than this!

As if to prove my point, the plane lurched hard to starboard, jolted sharply back to port and dropped out from under my butt.

Thank God for seat belts!

“Dana? I hope I didn’t react poorly about . . . y-you know. I-I don’t mean to . . . be like that.”

I hesitated to answer her, unsure exactly what to say.

“I-It’s okay. It’s not easy to deal with - for anyone, even me,” I assured her with a sidelong glance.

“Yeah . . . I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.” She paused. “Look . . . I know you’re freaked out right now, so . . . like I said . . . please don’t make yourself go through it alone . . . okay?”

For a moment, I stared at the seatback my hands were still locked onto.

“Okay. Thanks.”

As I released my grip, she pulled me to her again, allowing me to clamp my arms around her. She used the opportunity to whisper in my ear.

“If I seemed afraid when you told me, it was because I figured I might have accidentally led you on. It wasn’t because I have a problem with it . . . because I don’t. I’m not afraid of that at all. It’s just . . . my brain wants a girl,” she explained. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not your fault, any more than my body is my fault. You don’t need to apologize.”

“I know.” She paused for a long while. “Can we still be friends?”

I gave her the best smile I could muster under the circumstances.

“Of course.”

All I could do was sit there, looking over her shoulder and out the window as the moment sank in. I didn’t know what else to say or do. I had had my hope dashed — some of the only hope I had ever entertained - and I felt terribly insecure about everything. My emotions rose within me and, wishing to avoid further embarrassment, I decided to head to the lavatory to regain my composure.

A quick glance verified that the seat belt sign was off, freeing me to move about the cabin. I released my grip on Jenna as I unfastened my seat belt, rising from my seat, mumbling something about needing the bathroom. I hastened down the aisle toward the nearest lavatory with my eyes watering and my heart aching.

* * * * *

I scurried inside, shut the door, and bolted it behind me. I turned to look at myself in the mirror over the stainless steel sink, hoping to understand what Jenna had seen that had made her feel that she was talking to a boy. Whatever it was, I couldn’t see it.

It seemed so cruel. I had connected with Jenna in ways I never knew were possible. I could talk to her without feeling overwhelmed by my own nerves. She had made me feel desirable as a human being.

Yet, she wanted a girl and, although I was a girl, I had a male body. That should not have mattered at such a young age but it did.

Granted, I barely knew Jenna, but I felt that life had dangled before me the biggest, juiciest, tastiest carrot conceivable only to yank it away.

Like being transgender isn’t hard enough?

Still staring into the mirror, I saw the tears running down the cheeks of my reflection as I began to cry. Once I started, I just wanted to cry harder. I uttered a plaintive groan of pure frustration as I allowed my emotions to surface.

For a while, I simply let them come. I lost track of time as I vented. I had just begun to wind down when I heard a tenuous knock on the lavatory door, making me scramble to dry my face.

“I-I’ll be right out!” Shit. I really could have used more time.

“Dana?”

I looked at the lavatory door for a moment, somewhat surprised to hear Jenna on the other side of it. Hesitantly, I slid back the bolt and eased the door open.

Jenna took one look at me and, judging from the look on her face, she knew I’d been crying. She grabbed the edge of the door, squeezed herself into the lavatory with me and shut the door behind her, shooting the bolt.

“Dana, I know that I hurt you. I can see it in your face. I am so sorry! I never wanted you to feel like this. It’s just . . . knowing that . . . your body is a boy . . . it just threw a switch in my head. I mean . . . shit, I’m totally not ready to have sex and I probably won’t be for years, but . . . it still . . .” She fell silent for a moment before continuing.

“I had a major crush on a girl in my class two years back and it was just like us but the other way around. Her brain wanted a boy and I knew that it wasn’t anything personal but . . . I was still . . . I knew that I’d only just met her and all, but . . . it felt so right and . . . it was just like us! I was just . . . crushed.” She chuckled ruefully. “I’m so sorry, Dana. I can understand how you must feel.”

For a moment, I listened to the silence of the lavatory, my eyes shifting from her face to her reflection in the mirror.

“What’s your biggest dream?”

“Huh?” She frowned at what appeared to be a non-sequitur.

“Some people dream about seeing the world or running their own company or buying a house or . . . making some . . . major discovery,” I shrugged. “Do you know what my biggest dream is?”

“No. What is it?”

“Finding the right girl,” I shrugged. “That’s it. That’s my dream. Most people probably don’t even see that as a dream. They probably . . .” I looked down at my hands, watching my fingers toy with each other. “They probably take it for granted that they’ll find their one and only some day . . . but me?” I looked back into Jenna’s eyes. “I have to dream about it.”

“You can do more than dream!” She took my hands and looked earnestly into my eyes. “I really believe that you can find someone! Just because my brain is wired . . . the way it is . . . that does not in any way mean . . . anything. I know that I made you feel otherwise, but . . . you really are a quality person, Dana. You’re a catch! You make me laugh. You’re considerate and cooperative. You put me at ease. You’re super easy to talk to . . . and to look at,” she giggled.
She looked down for a moment before returning her eyes to mine.

“I really can’t imagine you staying single very long.”

“Thanks,” I looked down at my hands as I felt my face flush. “Um . . . you might want to be careful because . . . you’re kind of . . . making me want you.”

“Oh.” She giggled. “Okay. Wow, um . . . good to know!”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Wow . . . awkward!” She admitted, releasing my hands.

“Definitely,” I chuckled. “Maybe it would help to step out of this lavatory.”

She burst out laughing.

“Yeah, maybe we’d better!”

She unlocked the door, holding it open as I stepped through it. As we emerged, more than one person gave us a funny look. Oh, Jesus. They probably think we just joined the Mile High Club!

* * * * *

The awkwardness hung between us like a cloud of cheap perfume as we buckled our seat belts. For several moments, we exchanged furtive glances, unsure what to do next.

“You know, um . . . m-maybe I’ll read for a while,” I offered.

“Yeah, sounds good. Me too.”

“Right,” I chuckled.

Grabbing my book, I flipped to my place and tried to start reading, but I found it difficult to concentrate. I tried for half an hour before I gave up.

The plane shook its way through another great stretch of unsettled weather, complete with the captain’s admonition to return to our seats and fasten our seat belts, but I was too upset to care. I still felt the blow that life had so mercilessly delivered. I pretended to read my book, but merely stared at the page as I let my mind digest things.

It’s a shame it turned out like this, though I guess it couldn’t be helped. I know that my appearance is kind of a false advertisement. I mean, I’m dressed as a guy, but I still look like a girl. Of course, even if I were dressed as a girl, it would technically still be false advertising because of-

“Dana?” Jenna tentatively asked, leaning close to whisper.

“Yeah?” I looked over at her, unsure I wanted to talk to her.

“The plane’s shaking again. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” I replied with confidence. “The turbulence isn’t bothering me so much now.”

“Cool! Good for you!”

“Thanks.” I smiled weakly before starting to sit up.

“What was it like? Seeing the truth for the first time, I mean?” she asked quietly as the plane continued rattling and bumping.

Slowly, I rested my book on my lap as I leaned toward her to answer sotto voce.

“Well, you probably have a fairly good idea, but . . . it felt really good to know what the problem was so that I could do something about it, but . . . at the same time . . . it was scary - really scary — knowing that I wasn’t like everyone else, especially since . . . well, at the time, I could understand that I was a girl, but I couldn’t fully understand all of the implications. I just . . . I had this sense that it was going to be hard and scary.”

“How old were you?”

“I was barely five.”

“Wow. So You’ve known all this time?”

“Well . . . yes and no. I went to an all-boys grade school and I had to be boyish to survive. It was enough to make me doubt what I thought I knew and repress my true female self. By the time this summer came around, I started having trouble with that and I started seeing a therapist to help me straighten it all out and by the time school started, I could finally see again that I really am a girl. Of course, now I’m enrolled at Middlebrook as a guy, so I can’t just start dressing as a girl, no matter how much I would love to do that.”

“Oh, man. That sounds like a very trying ordeal.”

“Yeah. You have no idea,” I trailed off.

I began feeling very uncomfortable being so close to a girl I was so fond of who didn’t feel the same way about me. When she didn’t say anything more, I sat back up to resume reading. Soon, I was staring at the page again, pretending to read.

“Dana?”

“Huh?” I looked back at Jenna to find that she was still leaning toward me.

“How did you . . . know? I mean . . . how did you figure it out?”

“Well,” I leaned toward her, still somewhat hesitant to talk with her. “When I was five, I asked my mother for a My Little Pony for my birthday . . . and I wanted the unicorn. My mother tried to gently dissuade me, but evidently, I got this irresistible crestfallen look on my face and she got me one.”

We shared a chuckle.

“So you knew from that?”

“Not just that, not by a long shot,” I chortled. “I also got a G. I. Joe action figure, which I totally ignored. The only time I ever touched it was when I needed to prop my window open at night for some fresh air. I stood him up and let the window slide down on his head. His head was this soft, rubbery plastic and I got a kick out of watching the window pane flatten his head,” I tittered.

“Oh, wait! I have to take it back! There was one other time I touched the stupid thing. I always hated the look of army fatigues, and his clothes were not removable. Well, one day, I found a bottle of nail polish that a babysitter of mine had left in the little bathroom off our kitchen and I took it upstairs and I painted G. I. Joe’s fatigues glittery purple.”

That broke us both into laughter.

“Anyway, I always wanted the girlie toys and never knew what to do with boyish ones — other than painting them outrageous colors with nail polish."

“Then there was Becky, a girl about my age, who lived two doors down and went to the same pre-kindergarten that I did. Our mothers would take turns watching us according to their schedules. They would both check on us and find me decked out in a princess dress or some of Becky’s street clothes or whatever. Oh, and I traded the glittery purple G. I. Joe for one of her . . . uh . . .”

Hang on . . . I thought I just saw that same . . . flirty . . . no, never mind.

“. . . uh, one of her stuffed animals. She wanted the G. I. Joe so that her doll could marry it. She offered the trade and I just kind of happily went for it. It was like getting free stuff!” I giggled.

“So, I used to spend a lot of time thinking about all of this. For a while, I wondered why I liked all of the girlie stuff and not so much the boyish stuff."

“It wasn’t just that, either. Becky and I thought so much alike, too. That and I wanted a lot of the same stuff as Becky. I wanted the same white roller skates she had — though, of course, my folks got me the black ones for boys. One time, she put these plastic barrettes in her hair and I reached for a similar pair and stuck them in my own hair."

“Anyway, after I thought about all of this for a while, it just seemed logical that I must be a girl.”

“Wow. You really are a girl, aren’t you?” Jenna marveled.

“Well, yeah. I am.”

Jenna went quiet and I smiled at her pensively for a few seconds before sitting up. With a last glance her way, I turned back to my book, thinking the conversation had petered out.

“Dana?”

She still had yet to sit back up.

“Yeah?” I leaned toward Jenna again, just in time for her to move even closer to me. There it is again! She’s got that flirty look again — and our faces are three inches apart! Wait, what the-

“Are you . . . well, I wonder if it’s okay for me to ask . . .” she started.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Go ahead and ask, just stop fucking with my head!!

“Okay,” she smiled dreamily before asking what was on her mind. “Are you on, like, hormones?”

“Not yet, but I am on hormone blockers.”

“Wha- blockers? Oh, are you blocking your testosterone?” she asked, lowering her voice — and bringing her face an inch closer.

“Yeah. So my body doesn’t get all hairy and muscular and . . . just . . . ewww!”

We shared an amused giggle, Jenna moving still closer.

Now we’re an inch apart! Okay, I have got to find out what is going on here!

“Uh, Jenna?” I unconsciously licked my lips.

“Yeah?”

“Um, not to make things awkward again, but I-I think I n-need to ask. Um . . . a-are you-”

With that, she kissed me, squarely on the lips — and it wasn’t just a peck. It was a deep, solid kiss. The plane seemed to disappear from around me — along with everything except Jenna. Her kiss made me feel as though I were floating in the clouds, in the middle of the blue sky, with the sun bathing my soul.

I don’t know how long I remained close to Jenna, our lips pressed together, steeped in love, but I gradually returned to the plane just before the kiss ended.

“Wow, that was out of this world!” I blurted, making us both laugh.

“Yeah, it was!”

“Seriously, um . . . I’m sorry, but . . . I have to ask . . . I-I thought that-”

“So did I,” she confessed. “I’m not entirely sure how, exactly, but . . . that switch that was thrown in my brain?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, somehow . . . it got thrown back.”

“Really??” I smiled brightly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?”

“I just kissed you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you sure did.”

“Uh huh,” she kidded me. “Seriously, now, I don’t know why . . . I-I just know that . . . while you were telling me about the things you said and did and felt, I saw the girl that you are and I realized that . . . she makes my heart do somersaults, and . . . I really do want to be with her.”

“Well . . . um . . .” Finding myself short of words, I kissed her right back, flying right out of the plane, rocketing through the heavens and coming slowly back.

“You . . . you make my soul leap into the air and . . . soar . . . and I want to be with you, too.”

That brought about a third kiss, which the friendly flight attendant put an end to.

Gee, I guess we’re past the turbulence!

“Ahem! I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but would you care for a beverage?”

How the hell did I not notice a big, noisy beverage cart with a squeaky wheel trundling up behind me — plus a couple of flight attendants? Oh well!

“I would love a Diet Coke, please!” I admitted.

“Same here, please!” Jenna echoed.

The stewardess handed us our drinks with a wry smile on her face before asking if we wanted peanuts, which we turned down.

Finally, she moved on down the aisle, leaving us in peace.

“Well, here’s to you!” I toasted.

“And to you!” she responded, sealing the toast with a kiss before sipping from her drink, eyeing me over the rim.

Is this really happening to me? This is really happening to me! Gawd, it feels good!

* * * * *

Jenna and I spent the last hour of the flight free of turbulence, talking and planning our first date. We decided we would steal enough food from the dining hall for a picnic, find a nice spot in the woods to eat and . . . whatever. I couldn’t wait — and judging from the look on her face, neither could she.

We were still chatting, smiling and holding hands when the plane safely touched down in Boston. Our conversation trailed off as we taxied toward the terminal.

“You know what, Jenna?”

“What’s that?” she smiled.

“I don’t think I’m afraid of flying anymore.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I guess . . .” I looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “I guess I was focusing so much on unpleasant possibilities that I couldn’t see the pleasantries right in front of me.”

“That’s a good way of looking at it.”

“Yeah . . . okay, well, airplane food is not terribly pleasant,” I snickered, making Jenna giggle. “But you certainly are.” I stroked her hand as I watched her face glow. “Even before I met you, I still had a good book to read and sometimes a good movie . . . and if not for my fear of flying I might have been able to appreciate the thirty-five-thousand-foot view out the window which you really can’t get anywhere else.”

“Wow. You’re deep.” Jenna half-kidded.

“Thanks. I guess that’s what happens when you spend your life thinking more than socializing. Well, until now. Now,” I gently stroked her hand, “there will be chatting, dating . . . romancing . . . and . . .” I kissed her passionately.

A soft chime overhead, followed shortly by the sound of seat belts unfastening, announced our arrival at the gate.

“Well, are you ready?” I smiled at her.
“With you in my life? I’m ready for anything!”

THE END

[ Other Stories By Mona Lisa ]