The flight attendant made one more announcement, another apology for the few minutes’ delay. We’re not in the air yet. The door to the gate isn’t even closed. I could get off now. Pretend like I need to use the bathroom in the front of the plane, then walk away and never look back …
Except I know I can’t do that. At least, I know I shouldn’t do that. When I became a Christian, Russel assured me that God freed me from the sins of my past. That means I don’t have to be terrified anymore, do I?
I wonder if Russel would have told me those same comforting platitudes if he knew who I really am.
I stare down the aisle, stare at that open door as if it’s my last connection to safety. If those attendants shut that gate, if I just sit here and fly out to Detroit and meet my in-laws and accept all their profuse congratulations for my marriage to Russel, I’m stuck in this life, in this skirt, in this headscarf for good.
I’m not who any of them think I am, but if I allow myself to stay here on this plane, I’m going to wake up one day and realize there’s no more me left at all.
I had a dream right after Russel proposed. I was her. Sarah, his first wife. I was wearing her clothes, cooking meals in her kitchen, homeschooling her kids, tending her garden. The children called me Mom. Even Russel called me by her name.
When I looked in the mirror, it wasn’t my own face that I saw. It was hers. Pale and tired and wrapped up in that old-fashioned kerchief. I felt like I’d stepped out of an 1860s frontier TV show. Is this what I am? A mail-order bride escaping the dangers of the city to hedge my bets and do what I can to make life work out in the untamed wilderness?
I woke up crying. I hadn’t done that in years. My pajamas were drenched in sweat, my cheeks soaked with tears. I don’t want to be Sarah. I don’t want to pretend. But if Russel knew the truth …
I can’t do that to him. Not after he’s trusted me with his love, his kids. He’s flying us out to Detroit to introduce me to his parents, for goodness sake. It’s because of Russel I have a roof over my head. I have food to eat. It’s because of Russel I know who Jesus is. When I ran away from my past, I wasn’t looking for spiritual awakening, but God brought it to me anyway.
And he used this man who loves me, the man I pledged to love and honor and cherish until death do us part. Russel has already started the paperwork for me to adopt his kids. It will be my name on their new birth certificates, as if Sarah never even existed.
I’m sweating. I’m shaking. I’m biting my lip until I’m certain I’m about to draw blood.
“Are you ready to hear what happens next?” The tiny voice beside me has grown familiar but still sounds so strange. How can I pretend that this child is my own, that I can ever be a fraction of the mother that she needs?
“What happens next?” I ask, still keeping my eyes on the front of the plane. They haven’t shut the doors yet. There’s still time …
“So the prince tells the princess that he wants to be married to her and live together for ever and ever in their great big castle, and he’s going to keep her locked up in the basement for the rest of her life.”
I snap my focus away from the front of the plane to stare at my stepdaughter. “He did what?” I demand. I hope her father hasn’t overheard. If so, he’ll think I’m the one filling her head with scary images of kidnappings and torture.
“I said he kept the wicked witch locked in the dungeon.” Annie pauses with a pout before finally adding, “That’s the end.”
I feel the breath return to my lungs, repeat the words I just heard her say. He kept the wicked witch locked in the dungeon. I don’t remember a wicked witch in the story, but I assume she got what was coming to her all along.
“That sounds like a very good ending,” I say, but even I’m not convinced by my own words. I repeat them, more forcefully this time, and the captain gets on to tell the flight attendants to prepare the cabin for departure.