Page 12 of Flying

“The what?”

“AAC, Augmentative and Alternative Communication, it’s like a supertablet for folks who can’t use their own voice to speak. You know how many folks I’ve engaged with don’t realize that just because someone isn’t using their voice box, that doesn’t mean they don’t have things to say.” She balances being both fiery and passionate with a softness like the gentlest stream of water when speaking about her students. “So, I met this wonderful first grader who absolutely can talk, but he’s struggling to do so in certain situations. We know it’s not the standard, most places pressure the child to speak. I got the device, and he came into my office and thanked me for using it. He was able to tell me how happy he was.” She beams.

Looking at her she’s barely changed in all this time. Long jet black hair falling around her shoulders, warm olive skin she’d calledmestiza, the rounded apples of her cheeks always prominently on display with a giant smile. The ease and tact she has in every moment, the ability to bring about changes. While I’m busy thinking about her being ‘too nice’ she bites out something off topic.

“Getting this out there now so you know. I called my mom, and the Morgan’s were never welcome, but they are confirmed unwelcome. The Belinda and Neal portion of the Long’s know you are here,” she pauses just long enough for me to interject.

“LA LA LA, if I can’t hear you, I don’t have to know,” I answer loudly and childishly, trying to prevent myself from having to go there.

“Okay, so I was correct in assuming you hadn’t told you folks you’d be here, or talked to your mom directly at all?” She pins me with her perfect school administrator tone and stare.

“No Ms. Santos Manolo, my mommy doesn’t know,” I singsong to her.

Maintaining her firm disposition, she says, “And, when will Lee be proposing, before or at the party?”

“Before. What. No. I didn’t. He isn’t. I’m not,” I stutter, caught off guard and blabbing.

“Lily, unless you told me you were here for the funeral of one of your parents, that was the only other option. Since Belinda and Neal are still breathing, I’m getting engaged.” She's matter of fact.

I try to play it cool, but step a little too hard on the brakes for the next red light and whip my right arm out to shove her back into her seat.

Stef lets out a whoosh of air, as I go. “Damn, nice tits lady!”

This results in a round of giggles as we stop more safely, and helps me delay the inevitable conversation. Fuck. Deep breath.

Once inside, they seated us at opposite ends of the row.Score!

Truth be told, I adore Lee for her. His striking resemblance to her childhood crush on the blond guy fromThe O.C.is pure kismet. Stef’s older brother, Mateo, used to watch it when he was supposed to babysit us. Granted, back then we didn’t understand much, but we did know the blond guy was trouble and so cute. Lee has a similar look, and would make the perfect stand in for the mysterious one in a late ‘90s boy band. He practically lives in paint stained jeans and T-shirts with Chucks.

Originally from Michigan, Lee is automatically special because it’s rare when a person from someplace that isn’t New Jersey doesn’t mercilessly mock it. He’s never complained about this town, probably because his own was small too. And weird. This place is so weird.

Best of all though, for me, Stef and Lee have sparked a sliver of hope that a couple can be equals. This is the sort of man you marry. He doesn’t simply let her shine, he consistently will revel in it. Yet,when the hard parts of her job and massive empathy overwhelm her, he allows her to weep. He holds her up, reassuring her that you are allowed to be strong while feeling softer emotions.

Even when I dated a woman, I found myself shrinking behind my partner. That relationship taught me it wasn’t about gender roles, but something in me. When my voice is loud, my feelings larger than life, my excitement like fireworks or my sadness lingering, I am not who they believed me to be. However, my constant caretaking, availability, and support taught those partners what they wanted. They all met their forever partner after they were done practicing with me. I’m drifting towards those darkest thoughts, the ones that can spiral me out of the present when Stef leans over and talks in a tone so sugary, it could give a cavity.

“Really? After twenty years you think that you can sit a few seats down and get out of this chat?”

I let out a dramatic, long groan. It’s playful and energetic despite the faux irritation. “Fine. What do you want to know?” I say a silent prayer that I don’t accidentally give up Lee’s surprise.

Stef’s eyes glimmer with the sort of mischief I haven’t seen in ages. “You are here, so that must mean I am getting engaged. Now, tell me which color?” She opens her palm to show me two bottles of polish. “Susan will expect something soft, neutral, like this pink. However, it is the final weekend of summer, so I was thinking brighter one last time. Coral? There was also a fuschia, I could grab…”

Tension is building inside my chest, and I realize that I’m frowning and quickly try to push a smile onto my face. It must not look natural because she continues on.

“Oh, please. Like there was any other way in hell you’d be here. I wouldn’t be sure you’d come to the P.A. side of the river for fear of seeing someone from three miles away.”

“Coral.” I nod towards the bottle in her hand, hoping to evade the other portion of her question. “Definitely the coral. It will look beautiful on your skin tone.” I’m staring at my manicurist, avoiding Stef’s attempt at eye contact.

“Come on, Lil. It’s not like you’ve ever wanted to be back here. What, are you planning to sit your time in the stockyard at town hall? Then have tea and tarot at Prudence’s shop with your mom? Maybeyou’ll go on a double-date with Jim, Landan, and Grant, too? Then, hell will freeze over or pigs will fly. Right?”

Busted. I turn her way and stare at her slack jawed and rapidly blinking. Unsure what to do. Hoping to disappear. Lightly, Stef uses her finger to push my jaw shut.

Her chair wheels closer before she’s tossing her arms around me in a sisterly embrace.

I whisper sternly, “You better act surprised.”

“Thank you.” Her eyes are welling up with tears, and she squeezes my hand before moving back to where she was asked to sit. Told you, Stef wins the kindest, most empathetic, human award. Every time.

It’s why I bothered to come. I would be a fool to miss when good things happen in your life,I think too late to say in her ear.

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