fight or flight

everyone had said it: youre going to get married. everyone had been saying it, of course, all throughout her life, but this was the first time that her sister squeezed her forearm and whispered it, making it sound like edible, sugary exclamation points. what she meant was, youre going to get married to him.
his name was timmy and he worked at the power company. the first man she was engaged to, who was also named timothy but refused to ever have it shortened, was a graduate professor of english at the university of south alabama. he was her teacher though he was only five years older, and after a passionate tryst which involved hotel rooms and bottles of wine, luxuries of which she had never seen before, he wrote on her final thesis "marry me." she moved in with him and after 4 months of finidng trails of other students scattered throughout their tiny, wood panelled apartment, she moved out. she slept on her sisters couch and allowed herself tears she had never known before. something, she had told her sister one morning, as she was waking up to find the day as empty and useless as the one before, some dream i had is over. youre still so young, her sister said while pouring coffee into a thermos. you still have more chances.
but the more she clung to that adage, the more her body chanted the words she had been shrouded in since the day she unconsciously settled into the footprint of feminity, the further from herself she became. and so she decided to buy a house. she moved to birmingham and got a job working underneath the vice president of advertisting and sales at the power company. she bought a fondue set and martini glasses, and hosted a party all on her own. her friends came and baked tiny quiches and everyone envied her for her independence, her glittery self assurance. it was there that she met timmy, and found him to be meaty, sturdy, consistent. everything the first timothy was not.
they began dating and she was most pleased with how smitten he was with her. her previous experience with love, though still an uneven and tender scar on the verge of perforating, made her more attractive to him, and her completeness only drove him nearer and nearer her. he offered to move in and she told him they needed a break; things were moving too fast. she was so proud of herself, of how wholly she had transformed the seemingly insurmountable brand placed on her at birth. she needed her sister and her friends, but a boyfriend, a husband, she definitively did not need. she had proved that to him and to her herself and to the people who had seen her at her lowest, at her neediest.
timmy flew a two seater airplane. he kept it out in shelby county and would sometimes take her for a spin, circling birmingham. the engine made so much noise that communication was impossible, but this only added to the thrill of it for her. she would get nervous right before they took off the ground, when it was rumbling down the runway like a determined child on a tricycle, but as soon as they were in air she was gloating, full of excitement that she had never experienced on solid ground. the closest thing she could relate it to, she realized with the twinge of irony, was the fight or flight response that happens when faced with impending doom.
her cousin, who she was never very close to, was getting married in gatlinburg, and she asked timmy if he would take them there in his plane. he swelled with pride and said it would be his longest trip in awhile, but that he would love nothing more. this would be the first time that her family had met anyone since timothy. as she counted down the days she began to worry. what if this relationship failed, though she couldnt imagine him ever leaving her, and her family had already met him? what if he cheated on her, though she couldnt imagine him ever wanting to be with anyone but her, and she had made a big deal about introducing him to everyone, showing him off like a prize, like a marathon marker. we're in the last stretch, she seemed to be saying. just wait, i will cross the finish line with a real husband and baby and all of it.
the nervousness didnt go away when the plane left the runway like it usually does. she sat gripping the sides of the seat, her brows furrowed in concentration, almost pain. this would be a long ride, she knew that when she asked him. he was prepared, he could get them there. he was a competent pilot and she knew that she shouldnt be scared.
but as they travelled north, the wind got stronger and she began to feel timmy straining to keep the plane straight. she looked at him, terrfied with every gust, but no matter how loud she screamed he couldnt hear her. it was getting darker, the trees beneath them were swaying and they looked veiled. she realized it was rain. her heart was beating so hard and so fast she felt like she was going to be sick. she reached over to timmys leg and squeezed it, looking at him, begging for any sort of reassurance. this happens all the time. we'll get out of this. but he didnt look at her at all.
and thats when the thought shredded through her like claws- theyd die there. up there, up nowhere, together. this would be her legacy, this would be the last person she saw, the last thought she felt. no more cocktail parties at her house, no more endless endless chances