I keep forgetting to breathe.

When I remember, I suck in air, inhaling and exhaling like I’ve just run a marathon. I grab the safety instructions from the pouch in front of me and try to focus on the drawings.

Jacob puts his real hand over mine. “You’re going to be fine. This is one of the safest modes of transportation ever.”

Suddenly the plane shudders forward. “Oh my God, we’re moving.”

“We’re still on the ground. We’re just taxiing.”

I’m wearing my lucky everything: lucky earrings, lucky Rachel-made necklace, lucky hand-woven belt. I touch them all, my own weird version of making the sign of the cross.

The flight attendants start to run through the safety features on the plane.

Jacob pulls out a Twix bar. “You want some—”

“Shh!” I say. I need to hear everything. I want to know how, exactly, they expect us to jump out of an emergency exit and propel ourselves down an inflatable slide while blowing up an inflatable life jacket. It sounds like something to take our minds off the fact that we are facing sure death.

I’m in the middle seat. Jacob is by the window. The woman in the aisle seat keeps shooting me sideways glances.

When the flight attendants are done I speak loudly to the one closest to us. “Excuse me, sir, I just have a few more questions—”

“No. You don’t.” Jacob smiles sweetly at the flight attendant. “She doesn’t.” He settles back in his seat, adjusting the monkey neck pillow I made him especially for the trip.

“Flight attendants, prepare for departure,” says the captain over the PA.

As the plane heads down the runway, picking up speed, I squeeze my eyes shut. Jacob grips my hand.

Suddenly everything feels different. Smoother. Lighter.

“We’re airborne,” says Jacob.

I dare to open my eyes. I peek out the window. Sure enough, we’re above Vancouver. I can see all of Stanley Park, and the North Shore Mountains. It is beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

But over the next few hours, as some of my fear seeps away, I see it creep into Jacob. He grows quiet as we fly over the Rockies, then the prairies.

He’s not afraid of the journey.

He’s afraid of the arrival.

—

I got the idea for this trip during a session with my new counselor.

Mr. Watley told me about him in his office one day. He had a new framed photo on his desk; this one showed him holding up Alice/Ginger and Mrs. Watley holding up Stanley/Fred.

“He’s a brand-new hire. I’ve met him and I like him. I thought you might like to try him out.”

I was wary at first. My one-on-one sessions with Carol had been disastrous. But after just two visits, I realized the new counselor and I were going to get along just fine. He’s the real deal. For one thing, I’m pretty sure he’s been through some hard times too. Call it a sixth sense.

His name is Cosmo Economopoulos, and I can talk to him about everything. Plus he’s already asked me to make a pair of Scrabble tile earrings for his wife, because she’s apparently a total Scrabble nerd.

We talk a lot about Maxine. We discuss my parents, who, I have to admit, seem to be doing better now that they’re living apart. We discuss my new living arrangement, half the week at Mom’s, half the week at Dad’s.

It isn’t so bad. Mom and I talk a lot. And Dad doesn’t work late on the days I’m with him. His place is small but charming, in an old, regal-looking redbrick low-rise called Robson Arms. My bedroom has an actual window seat overlooking the treetops—a perfect reading perch.

Sometimes Dad puts on music. He kept over two hundred records, so there’s always something to listen to. Sometimes we even dance like we used to. And Rachel and I have been having a crafting heyday, decorating my new bedroom and adding lots of cool touches around Dad’s apartment, like hand-stitched throw cushions, macramé wall hangings, and even some old-school doilies.

I’m not sure Dad likes everything we’ve done so far. But he doesn’t dare say a word.

Guilt has its upside.

—

There’s one subject Cosmo and I circle back to over and over, and that’s Jacob.

I still struggle to trust him. Sometimes, when he’s telling me a story, I wonder if it’s really true.

And I still find it hard to look at him the same way as before.

Cosmo says all of this is normal. He says I can only take it day by day and see how it plays out. “It sounds like he’s a good person at heart.”

“Yes.”

“A good person who did a bad thing.”

“Yes.”

“From everything you’ve told me, he’s been a positive presence in your life.”

“He has. No question. He’s helped me face a lot of my fears.”

“Have you ever thought that you might be able to help him face his?”

I took what Cosmo said to heart. I thought about it a lot. And I came up with an idea. I told Cosmo about it at our next session. “It’s interesting,” he said. “But you’ll have to get Jacob and his family on board.”

I didn’t go about it quite that way. Instead I used the rainy-day money in my bank account and bought two nonrefundable tickets to Toronto during a seat sale.

Then I told Jacob my plan.

He said no.

“Fine. But I’m getting on that plane, no matter what.”

“You. Getting on a plane. Alone.”

“Yes.” It was the second lie I’d told him. No way would I get on that plane without him.

At the last minute, he agreed to come. He talked it over with his parents first. They had mixed feelings but felt that it was Jacob’s decision to make.

My parents didn’t love the idea, but when they found out we’d be staying with Jacob’s bubbe and zadie, they relaxed.

Koula, Alonzo, and Ivan took the Canada Line to the airport with Jacob and me to see us off. Ivan wore the Whitecaps hat Jacob had bought him. Koula slugged Jacob on the arm, then gave me a big hug. Alonzo followed us as we got in the security lineup. Then he pretended to hit an invisible wall. He took a few steps back and ran to join us. He hit the wall again.

Miming at its best.

When we boarded the plane, we had to show photo ID. I snuck a peek at Jacob’s.

His middle name really is Schlomo.

—

We’re beginning our descent into Toronto. I’ve done remarkably well. I only spent fifty percent of my time wondering if any of the other passengers were planning to hijack the plane or detonate a bomb.

We’ll be in Toronto for a week. Jacob’s going to take me to his favorite vintage clothing store and the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Royal Ontario Museum. He also wants me to go up the CN Tower even though I’ve told him “over my dead body.”

And we’re going to visit Frankie.

Jacob sent him a message. Frankie replied right away.

He also contacted the Esterhaszes.

I won’t repeat what Shirley said. But Gord’s dad and one of Gord’s sisters want to sit down with Jacob.

Will this trip help Jacob? I have no idea. Everything—including us—is unclear. But that’s life, I guess. We know we can’t do a rewrite. We can’t undo what’s been done, or control what’s coming next.

All we can do is hope for the best.

I’m trying to be optimistic.