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HORRIFYING PLANE TRAVEL
Lake Erie Islands
***
A FEW SHORT DAYS AFTER dinner at the farm, Zack packed his bags with all the layers he’d accumulated living in the Twin Cities and waited outside Marie’s house at an inhospitable hour for Aaron to pick him up and drive them to the airport.
Perhaps the atmosphere between them shouldn't have felt so comfortable, so natural, as they spent the drive in companionable silence. After all, they were exes, embarking on an absurd holiday visit Zack would have judged any of his friends for taking. Matt had seemed enthusiastic about the trip, at least, but Zack suspected Matt would be enthusiastic about anything someone thought would bring them happiness. The trait made him a valuable friend, but a questionable source of advice.
Still, here Zack was. With Aaron, who was as compelling as ever. And Zack knew himself well enough to recognize that the element of adventure and dubious choices only made this trip more appealing, not less. He’d been a war reporter for a reason, after all.
A war reporter who’d wound up with a fear of flying as just one of several mental souvenirs from that work. And while there weren’t that many miles between the Twin Cities and Aaron’s family’s home, getting there was anything straightforward.
The first leg, from Minneapolis−Saint Paul to Cleveland, was fine. Suboptimal, because Zack hated planes, but it was nothing beyond his expectations. There was a normal plane with normal jet engines, and Aaron kept up a lively stream of chatter that didn’t require much of Zack beyond listening to it. Deep breathing exercises and a constant reminder to himself that he wasn’t flying into danger was enough.
But then they landed at Hopkins. Zack followed Aaron as he navigated his way through the terminal and finally out onto the tarmac itself. Where sat the smallest plane Zack had ever seen at an actual commercial airport.
“You’re joking,” he said.
Aaron dropped the handle of his roller bag and waved, presumably at the pilot.
“We’re going somewhere with fewer than a hundred people,” he said. He sounded amused. “Did you think the plane needed more than ten seats?”
“That plane doesn’t have ten seats,” Zack protested.
“Correct. And they won’t even all be full!”
Zack took a deep breath. And then another. Here he stood on the tarmac, with his backpack on one shoulder and his camera slung over the other, about to board a plane. It was the sexy reporter self-image he secretly kind of loved, except for the part where he was in the American Midwest trying not to have a panic attack.
Aaron evidently knew the pilot, a woman wearing a heavy winter coat and a ski hat emblazoned with a Canadian maple leaf. Aaron greeted her warmly and introduced her to Zack—her name was Stephanie—and they stood chatting for a few moments while Zack tried to collect himself.
Eventually Aaron collapsed the handle of his roller bag and hefted it up to climb the less-than-a-handful of steps to the plane. He must have sensed Zack’s hesitation, because he stopped with one foot on the first step.
“You okay?” he asked with a frown.
“I have friends with trucks bigger than this plane.” Zack tried to joke, but the words came out panicked. Which he was. He didn’t want to talk about this.
Aaron smiled encouragingly. “It’s going to be fine. I promise. There’s not even weather today.”
“Good,” Zack muttered. He pulled himself together as best he could and followed Aaron up the stairs. “because this thing is going to crumple if a stiff breeze even looks at it.”
“You don’t like flying?” Aaron asked as they tucked themselves into the two front seats. Of which there were only six. In total.
Zack hesitated. He hated admitting this. But he was here, on this minuscule flying death tube, because Aaron had invited him. Aaron who wanted Zack, who had dumped him, to come to his island to see his true self. That was a gesture of trust and vulnerability of immense proportions, and Zack would be repaying it poorly if he didn’t tell the truth now.
“I really don’t,” he said.
“Really? I thought you flew a lot. For reporting and stuff.”
“Oh, I do. Or did. Usually in planes like this. Which is why I don’t like it.” Zack had a story, about the time the door on the Cessna he was in opened when they were three thousand feet up. It was fine, in the sense that no one died and they didn’t even lose any luggage, but it was one of his least favorite memories that didn’t involve being shot at. So much so that any attempt to articulate the story caught in his throat. Even now, for Aaron, he couldn’t manage it.
“Ah.” Aaron looked at him keenly. “Bad experience? Or experiences?”
“Yeah.” Zack nodded and breathed a little easier. Even if he hadn’t been able to tell the story, still Aaron knew something at least.
Aaron reached across the narrow aisle between them and grabbed Zack’s hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”
Zack was about to retort that flying was not like skating and that Aaron could definitely not catch him if anything went awry, but at that moment the plane’s engine kicked in and the whole of it started to vibrate as the propeller picked up speed. His heart leapt into his throat and stayed there.
For the next hour, he was aware of only three things: that his body and brain did not want him on this plane, the light outside the window changing from gray to blinding white, and Aaron’s hand clasped in his own.
Aaron talked the entire flight. Zack couldn’t take in most of what he was saying, much less respond to it, but Aaron kept on talking all the same. Part of Zack’s brain wanted Aaron to shut up, so it could focus on their imminent demise. The rest of him was grateful for Aaron’s efforts and that he wasn’t minimizing Zack’s distress.
He had no idea how he was going to do this flight again in just a few days. Maybe they could snowmobile all the way back to the mainland. Although he didn’t know how he felt about snowmobiles yet either.
“We’re almost there,” Aaron said. His voice sounded as if it was coming from a very great distance as they passed, closer than Zack would have preferred, a large Doric column. Which was kind of a strange thing to pass, considering it wasn’t attached to a building. It was just standing there at the end of a bit of island in the middle of the lake.
Zack braced himself as the plane began its descent. He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut while it shuddered and bumped it way through the windy sky, before its wheels finally bounced on the tarmac as it touched down.
They taxied briefly, before parking between two other planes in a manner more like a mall parking lot than an airport.
Somehow, Zack got off the plane—or Aaron got Zack off the plane—because the next thing Zack was aware of, he was standing in front of the trailer that held the airport’s small office. His jangled nerves aside, it was a far cry from a war zone.
He raised his hand to shade his eyes from a world white with snow, which was when he realized he still had Aaron’s hand in a death grip.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
Aaron shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, like holding people’s hands for traumatic tiny plane flights was something he did every day. No more or less remarkable than picking the little kids up when they fell all over themselves trying to march on the ice.
The thought was, somehow, comforting, even though Zack still had no idea what they were doing. The cold air that whipped across his face and made him wish he’d put on a scarf before getting off the plane made it somehow easier to breathe more deeply.
Aaron turned to say goodbye to Stephanie the pilot. “Say hi to Sue and the girls for me, yeah?”
“Of course.” Stephanie pulled him into a warm hug. “Say hi to your folks for us, too.” She offered Zack a hand, which he shook on autopilot, and gave them both a cheery wave before turning to deal with something on the plane.
“You with me?” Aaron asked quietly.
“Barely,” Zack said. He felt queasy as his brain and his body tried to catch up with each other and also solid land.
“Okay. That’s the war of 1812 monument,” Aaron said pointing at the ridiculous Doric column that Zack had noticed from the air. He spun around. “That way is where the tourists go and my parents’ restaurant.” He jerked a thumb to one side. “Nature preserve... Canada is over there. America is back there.”
“Where’s home?” Zack asked.
“That way. Across the ice. See the island with the weird ruined castle looking thing?” Aaron said.
“Yeah? You didn’t tell me you have a castle.”
Aaron shook his head. “We don’t. We’re on an island behind that island.”
Apparently Zack had misjudged the size of the chip on Aaron’s shoulder about this place. Everything was, he was quite sure, about to get very weird. And he couldn’t wait.
Aaron led Zack the short distance to the little trailer and held the door for him. Once they got inside Aaron waved at someone; it took Zack’s eyes a moment to adjust but when they did, he could make out two figures, bundled up in coats and hats even inside. Zack couldn't blame them.
Aaron launched himself at the larger of the two and got a bear hug in return; Aaron’s father, Zack assumed. He held Aaron tight, his eyes closed. Zack wondered, wistfully, what it was like to have a family that welcomed you back like this. Even when he and his family had been on speaking terms, he’d never had a moment like this.
His gaze fell on the other person who had come to meet them, who had to be Aaron’s twin. Same cheekbones and sharp chin, same curly brown hair, though hers was longer; a braid trailed over her shoulder. And the same warm brown eyes, although hers were narrowed at him right now, clearly calculating.
Aaron’s father finally let him go and stepped forward to shake Zack’s hand, but then he pulled him in for a hug too, one of those one-armed ones the guys on the hockey team sometimes exchanged.
“Glad you boys made it,” Aaron’s dad said warmly, as if Zack were some lifelong friend of Aaron’s returning to the island for the hundredth time.
“Thanks for having me,” Zack said sincerely.
“Of course. Now. Zack,” Mr. Sheftall said, leading gesturing toward the door of the airport that led out to a snow-covered parking lot. “Have you ever been on a snowmobile?”
Zack had, in fact, never been on a snowmobile. He considered volunteering his past in various war zones as if his once-upon-a-time vague competence in one type of extreme environment translated to the same in another, but he knew—and he was sure these people also knew—that it did not. Instead, he stood around feeling useless while Aaron helped his father and sister secure their luggage on two different vehicles parked in the lot.
“You’re with me,” Ari told Zack, the first she’d spoken to him. She handed him a helmet.
“Okay?” Zack said, but he couldn’t help throwing a questioning glance at Aaron.
“Weight limits,” Aaron said, matter-of-factly, settling in on the other snowmobile behind his dad. He pulled on his own helmet. “Just hold on, and you’ll be fine.”
***
AFTER THE WHOLE thing with the plane, Zack was not anticipating enjoying a snowmobile ride across a frozen lake to a speck of an island. And yet, as the two snowmobiles raced out onto the vast expanse of ice, Zack felt his unease melt away. There were no sounds other than the engines, and no people other than the four of them. It was all so bizarre and delightful that Zack didn’t even have brain space left to feel awkward about the fact that he was clinging to Aaron’s sister.
This was, frankly, too damn much fun. Zooming across the blindingly-white landscape reminded him of adventure, the kind he thought he’d have back when he was a kid and dreaming of being an adult who could do whatever he wanted anywhere in the wide, wide world. Zack whooped when the snowmobile hit a bump, sending up a shower of snow. Ari glanced back over her shoulder at him, and while he couldn’t make out her face through the visor of her helmet, he was pretty sure she was smiling too.
***
THE SENSE OF ADVENTURE didn’t fade when they finally reached Aaron’s family’s house, a low, snug-looking building tucked between a sheltering rock face on one side and a bunch of evergreens which effectively encircled it. The side of the house facing the lake had the best view, but the smallest windows, presumably to block the effects of the wind from the water. Smoke rose invitingly from a chimney.
Aaron grazed his fingers over the mezuzah on the door post as his mother greeted them, and there was another round of greetings and hugs in which Zack was included as if he was a lifelong friend.
“Let me show you your room,” Aaron said once they’d shed their coats and boots.
He led the way through the kitchen, down a flight of wooden steps that creaked pleasantly, and through a door that stuck so stubbornly he had to lean into it with his shoulder to get it open. The room itself was pleasantly bright, with light coming in from the windows high up in the walls and, to Zack’s more specific relief, warm. There was a hot water heater in one corner, and the room evidently hadn’t been updated since the eighties if the fake wood paneling and deep shag carpet were anything to go to. But there was a bed, a bathroom, and even a coffee maker set up on top of a dresser.
“It’s a bit weird,” Aaron said, his back to Zack as he tugged open the curtains flanking the windows a little further. There was more a note of challenge in his voice than apology, as if he were daring Zack to be judgmental about his home. “But everything here is a bit weird.”
Zack dropped his bags by the door. “I love it,” he said honestly. “I love weird, generally, really.” He tried not to think too hard, or at least too consciously, about whether and how Aaron fit under either of those words in his head.
“If you hear banging in the middle of the night, it’s just the pipes.”
“Duly noted.”
“And I had my folks bring down another space heater,” he said, pointing to the thing in the corner. “It should be warm enough, snow is a great insulator actually, but I know how you feel about the cold.”
“Thanks,” Zack said sincerely, touched.
“We’re gonna eat lunch soon, but if you want to get yourself settled...” Aaron’s voice trailed off and he drifted back toward the door. “Yell if you need anything.”
There wasn’t much Zack needed to do in the way of unpacking, but he was grateful for a few moments to himself to shake off the last of the plane nerves and recalibrate to his new surroundings.
As he sat down on the bed to take off his wet socks and put on dry ones, the scent of the same laundry detergent Aaron used rose around him. Zack let himself breathe deep and smiled.
***
AFTER LUNCH, AARON offered to take him on a tour of the island, and once they’d put all their layers back on they tromped back outside.
Aaron led the way down to the shore, or where the shore would have been had the lake not been frozen and the beach not covered in snow. The sound of pebbles crunching beneath their feet was the only sign they were so close to the water. Aaron, who had been so chatty on their journey, was silent as they walked side-by-side.
The snow wasn’t very deep, just past their ankles really, but the path hadn’t been cleared and the walk took more effort than Zack had expected.
“How big is this place?” he asked.
“Not big. Maybe a couple miles around.”
“And it’s just your family here?”
“What? No.” Aaron laughed. “I’m not James Bond, my family doesn’t own a private island. There’s like four other families. You’ll see their houses as we go.”
“Still, four other families is not a lot of people.”
“It’s not. But there’s forty or so that stay year-round on the main island. So by comparison.”
“Mind if I take some pictures?”
“Knock yourself out.”
Zack was glad he’d brought his camera. There wasn’t much to see, to be sure, but what was there was rich in shape and texture: The bare branches of trees silhouetted against the sky, the mossy roof of one of the neighbor’s houses, a tiny frozen waterfall where a stream ran down to the shore.
Aaron perched on a rock by the edge of the ice to watch him. “I didn’t know you did nature pictures too.”
There was a slight emphasis on the ‘too’ that made Zack immediately think of the last time he’d had his camera out with Aaron: The night before Aaron had left for the Grand Prix Final. He wondered if Aaron still had the picture Zack had taken of him then.
“I don’t usually get the chance. But it’s beautiful here.”
“Beautiful and strange,” Aaron said.
“Like you,” Zack said, before he could stop himself.
Perched on his rock, his cheeks already red from the cold, he was pretty sure Aaron blushed.
***
BY THE TIME THEY RETURNED to the house from their walk, the sky was already growing dark, which meant the whole snowy landscape was slowly fading into dusty purple twilight.
They ate dinner together with Aaron’s family, where they caught Aaron up on all the local news that hadn’t gotten covered at lunch. After dinner Ari went out to the garage with Mrs. Sheftall to work on a recalcitrant motor of some sort, and Aaron went off with his dad to his parents’ office to deal with some of the accounting he did for them, leaving Zack to his own devices.
He sank into one of the overstuffed armchairs near windows that peered out towards the lake. Behind him was a hearth in which a fire crackled merrily, throwing warm light around the room. Beside it, was a waist-high synthetic tree, decorated with twinkling lights, an assortment of blue and white plastic dreydls, and topped with silver-painted wooden menorah that looked a bit like a high-school shop class project gone awry. And that, Zack told himself, must be the Hanukkah bush. He wondered if it was Aaron or Ari that had made the topper.
By now it was fully dark outside, and far on the horizon he could see lights glimmering faintly. The distant signs of human habitation, invisible during the day, somehow made this little house seem even more remote.
It had been a long time since Zack had just sat and done nothing, and he found himself zoning out peacefully, watching the lights blink on the horizon. In the distance, he could hear a dog barking.
***
ZACK CAME TO SOME TIME later to the touch of a hand on his arm. He jerked awake, his heart pounding, but it was only Aaron crouched in front of him, a look of concern on his face.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Zack scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You’ve had a busy day,” Aaron said, without a trace of sarcasm. “Here you go.” He set down a mug of hot chocolate on the arm of Zack's chair, then dropped into the opposite chair, curling up in it around his own cup of tea.
"Thank you," Zack said, sitting up properly and wrapping his hands around the mug. It steamed gently.
"It's no problem.”
Zack became aware of the utter silence of the rest of the house, aside from the crackle of the fire which someone must have built up again while he dozed. In other places and times in his life, silence like this would have been eerie. Here it felt strange, to be sure, but comfortable nonetheless. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Gone to bed. It’s late.” Aaron took a sip of his tea. “For here, at least.”
“You always keep skaters’ hours, don’t you,” Zack guessed.
“Pretty much. Someday I’ll take a vacation and sleep ‘til ten in the morning every day,” Aaron said, looking off into the distance with exaggerated wistfulness.
Zack laughed. “Sounds decadent.”
Aaron smiled. “You have no idea.”
Zack could have said he had some idea; how many mornings had Aaron had to peel himself out of his bed to get to the rink? But he hesitated. Unlike Aaron, he could rarely blurt what he was feeling.
He realized, as he and Aaron sat and just...looked at each other, that this was the first time they had been alone together in months. The hours in transit today decidedly did not count. Zack should probably ask Aaron what his plan was, or if he even had one, but then he decided he didn’t care. Being here with him right now was enough.
Aaron broke the silence first, tucking his knees up under his chin and wrapping his arms around them. “How do you like it here?”
"This place is—haunting, I think, is the word,” Zack said.
Aaron cracked a smile. "I've been telling you. And you can see why I don’t say more than that.”
Zack nodded. "I guess it's the sort of thing you need to see to believe."
"Do you regret coming?" Aaron asked.
"No. God. Not at all," Zack said, with a vehemence that surprised even him. "I love it here," he admitted.
"Yeah? You haven’t even been here a whole day, yet.” Still, Aaron looked delighted at Zack’s declaration.
"Yeah," Zack said firmly. "Don't get me wrong, that plane ride in was fucking terrifying. But once we got here..." he trailed off, thinking about it. "Since I stopped going out on assignment, I’ve spent a lot of time and a lot of hours in therapy trying to figure out how to exist. But here is just...out of the world. There's no crowds, no loud noises, nothing happening. I get to just be and be curious about something that’s not going to kill anyone. It’s great."
"Is it that hard for you? To—be, in the world?"
"I don't know. Honestly? I know I don't work in the way most people do. Even without the PTSD, I'm an adrenaline junkie.”
"Which is how you got the PTSD,” Aaron said.
Zack shook his head. "I have PTSD because I was in multiple war zones. If I'd been more reasonable, I could have gotten my thrills from, I dunno, bungee jumping."
Aaron tilted his head consideringly. "You don't really seem like the bungee jumping type. Although I didn't think you'd be the hockey bro type either, and look how that turned out."
"Thank you?" Zack wasn't sure if that was a compliment.
Aaron smiled. "I've watched some of your games. You're not half bad."
Zack was startled. "I didn't know that. That you'd watched any of the games."
Aaron shrugged. "Hard to keep an eye on the audience when you've got a helmet and everything on. Anyway. I never stuck around long. Just wanted to see you. I was surprised you stuck around, actually. After...everything."
"You mean with us?"
"Well yeah. You finished your article, right? Or at least the part that was about me. And then you broke up with me. I know you’d said you were going to move to Saint Paul, but I still sort of figured you'd just disappear after that."
“I didn’t move to the Twin Cities just for you, you know,” Zack said, careful to keep his tone light. Teasing.
“Really? Why not?” Aaron put on a look of exaggerated feigned offence. “But I’m so cute!”
Zack laughed. “I won’t deny that. But I like it there. I can get work done. And I feel like I have a community, with the hockey guys and Marie. Although Marie is kicking me out, so I need to find a new place of my own when we get back there."
"So you're really gonna stay? Aaron asked.
"For now, at least.” Zack looked down at the hot chocolate he still held cupped between his palms. He swirled the cup gently, watching the melted whipped cream marble the surface. “Which is probably the most I can say about any place at any point. I probably needed to say that about Florida, but didn’t realize it at the time. And like I said...I can get work done there, in Saint Paul. Which has value.”
“What are you working on?”
“A book,” Zack admitted.
“Oh. Like the one you won those awards for? That I still haven’t read and really need to some day?”
“It’s fine,” Zack said. “It’s not exactly easy reading.” Truth be told, he couldn’t quite square Aaron existing in the same universe in which he’d written that book. Some part of him, problematic as it was, wanted to protect Aaron from that world.
“Well, I’m not an easy reader. Come on, what’s your book about? You spent all those weeks watching me work, it’s payback time.”
Aaron had a point, but still, Zack hesitated. He hadn’t told anyone what, exactly, he was working on yet. Saying it out loud made him feel too vulnerable. But Aaron made him want to try.
He fortified himself with a sip of the hot chocolate. “It’s a memoir.”
Aaron frowned. "Aren't you a little young to be writing your memoirs?"
Zack chuckled. "A memoir is not an autobiography. It’s just a story that I happen to be in.”
“And what story are you in?” Aaron asked, too keenly for Zack’s comfort. “Your war zone stuff?”
"Not really. I mean... that’s there, that’s where it starts. But it’s more about figuring out how not to live that life anymore."
Aaron seemed to ponder that. “That’s why Saint Paul, then?” he said thoughtfully. “We’re your new
life?”
“Something like that.”
Aaron frowned. “Are you being evasive because you don’t want to talk about it or because you don’t know how to talk about it?”
Zack sighed. He was absolutely pinned to the wall on this one. “Some of both. You know, I took this gig, the article about you, because I was broke and a mess. And it didn’t really upend my life because my life was already upended. But it did give me something to latch onto in a way that’s either me being really mentally healthy... or really mentally not. I don’t know.” A log popped in the fireplace, sending out a cloud of sparks and making him jump.
“So I’m just trying to figure it out,” he went on, adrenaline prickling unpleasantly under his skin. “What I’ve learned about telling stories is that you can tell when they are going to make sense, even if they don’t entirely hang together yet. That’s how I feel about this project. But it’s weird to talk about. And most certainly to you.”
“Oh,” Aaron said. “You mean I’m in the book.”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t that sketchy?”
“In a journalistic ethics way? No, because it’s not journalism.” And because this time I’m actually going to tell the truth about it, Zack thought. “But are we two people who are going to have to talk about this at some point and we might not enjoy it? Yeah. You bet.” Zack watched Aaron’s face carefully, looking for his reaction.
“Well don’t stop there.” Aaron looked, if anything, even more intrigued.
“For what it’s worth,” Zack said, “The person who comes off looking poorly in memoirs is usually just the author. So... unless you’re like ‘No don’t do that at all ever or I will cut an ice fishing hole and throw your body in it,’ you probably don’t have a lot to worry about.”
Aaron gave an awkward laugh. “Well, I didn’t until that speech.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to talking to people about my shit.”
Aaron shrugged. “It’s all good. I’m not used to letting people see my island.”
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