Page 44 of In Flight

“Aha, what?”

“It’s time.”

“For the bag?” I’m so excited I actually clap my hands a few times.

“Yes.” He leans over and pulls down my tray table. Then he draws out a pretty bouquet of bright pink gerbera daisies and places it in front of me.

“Oh, they’re beautiful! How did you know they’re my favorite?”

“I didn’t know. I just thought you would like something a little different, and they look so vivid and bright they made me think of you.”

I ooh and aah over the flowers and the thoughtfulness of his choice until I realize he’s pulling something else out of the bag.

It’s a small battery-operated light that’s shaped like a candle and flickers like one. He turns it on and sets it on his tray table. “You weren’t sure about going on a date with me,” he drawls, “so I figured I’d bring the date to you.”

I giggle helplessly but then make a squeaky sound when he pulls out two sealed plastic meal containers of scallops and pasta with cream sauce. He has cloth napkins and real silverware.

I hug myself, thrilled by the fact that Isaac put so much thought and effort into this. If I was nervous and uncertain on Friday, I’m not anything of the kind right now.

I’ve never—never—felt like this for anyone before. Not once in my life. Like I could fly free and grip him with all my strength at exactly the same time.

Isaac is trying for a calm, lofty expression, but he can’t stop smiling either. He ends with two wineglasses into which he pours red wine from a mini screw-top bottle.

“How did you get that past the TSA?”

His mouth twitches. “I bought it and the glasses in an airport shop.”

I clap again. I can’t help it. “It’s perfect! I can’t believe it!”

“You’re not allergic to shellfish, are you? That worrisome thought occurred to me as I was getting to the airport.”

“No, I love scallops. I love everything. You couldn’t have planned it better for me if you’d already known all my favorites.”

“Okay. That’s good then.”

We stare down at our plates and then slant sidelong looks at each other.

“I guess we can start now,” Isaac says at last.

“Sounds good to me.”

The food is delicious and still fairly warm. The wine, despite the convenient size and screw top, isn’t cheap. I eat and sip the wine and occasionally pet my flowers. I’d be worried I was being silly had Isaac not visibly been pleased by my enjoyment of his efforts.

I ask him about how his parents are doing after his grandfather’s death, and he asks me about my job. He wants to know whether I’ve seen Cash since the breakup. I haven’t. And I in turn ask if he’s heard from Sophie. Also a no.

Eventually the food and wine are gone. Isaac puts the trash back in the shopping bag, which the flight attendant kindly takes to throw away. She’s obviously been watching us back there and looks delighted by the improvised date.

I’m feeling good. Warm and pleased and full and ridiculously happy about every single thing in the world when the plane jerks unexpectedly.

Isaac has been happy too. Visibly so. But he stiffens slightly at the jerk.

“Maybe it was just a random air pocket,” I say softly, holding my breath to see if the plane is going to shake again.

It does. Again and then again. And then a violent series of rattles that wakes up everyone in the plane and causes a couple of drinks to tip over and spill onto the floor.

The seat belt light dongs loudly as the pilot tells everyone we’re moving into a storm.

And I hate it.Hateit. Not because the turbulence has ever bothered me unduly but because I know it bothers Isaac.

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