In the Unlikely Event

“As if I could forget any of you,” Miri told them, choking up. She promised to write. They promised they’d write, too.

For a while she thought Mason might come by the house, but he didn’t. Once she understood he was avoiding her the way she was avoiding him, she wanted to leave, the sooner the better. And now she was going. She was going to walk up the steps leading to the silver bird that would gobble her up, holding her in its belly until it reached its faraway destination, where it would spit her out. In one piece, she hoped.

The stewardess, in her famous uniform with the red cut-out TWA logo on her right shoulder, welcomed them onto the plane. Miri was reassured to see that the seating looked so much like a train. She was never afraid on a train. They were seated two by two—Irene with Ben, Rusty with Dr. O and Miri with Fern. The stewardess handed the two girls silver wings to pin to their jackets. Fern’s jacket was turquoise felt with appliquéd animals. She asked for a second pin for Roy Rabbit. Miri offered hers, then pinned one to Fern’s jacket, and the other to Roy Rabbit’s well-worn vest.

“Have you been to Lost Vegas?” Fern asked her.

“No.” Miri resisted a laugh. It made sense to call it lost since it was in the middle of nowhere.

“Will you be my sister now?” Fern asked.

“Stepsister.”

“Like in Cinderella?”

“No. My mother is very nice so you don’t have to worry about having a wicked stepmother. And my grandmother is the best grandmother ever—except when she talks about boys, but you don’t have to worry about that yet.”

“I’m only coming for the summer,” Fern said. “Mommy wanted me to go to camp but I wanted to go with Daddy.”

“I’m glad you’re coming with us.” Miri never thought she’d say that, but there was something comforting about having Fern sitting next to her, her skinny little legs swinging up and down, her cowboy bunny clutched against her chest. She liked having someone to watch over, someone who needed her to be strong.

“Did you know Roy Rogers has a penis but Roy Rabbit doesn’t have one, even though he’s a boy bunny?”

“Yes, I know.”

“I told you, right?”

“About a hundred times.”

Fern said, “I flew one time when I was little, all the way to Birmingham, where my grandma lived. I got to sit on her hospital bed. Then she died. I didn’t see her dead. Only sleeping.” She was quiet for a minute, then she popped back up. “Do you know this song?”

She twisted her hands upside down, making goggles for her eyes with her thumb and second finger. She started to sing.

Into the air, Junior Birdman

Into the air upside down

Into the air, Junior Birdman

Keep your noses off the ground.

“Where’d you learn that?” Miri asked.

“Natalie learned it at summer camp and taught it to me.”

By the time Miri figured out how to make the mask with her hands, the plane was on the move, picking up speed. Faster, faster, faster, until they were airborne. Into the air, Junior Birdman. They were flying. She was flying. She thought it would feel different, more like the ride at the amusement park that pins you against the wall with centrifugal force. That ride was both thrilling and terrifying but so was this one. Once they’d leveled off she pretended she was on a train, except when she looked out the window all she saw was sky with a bank of fluffy clouds under the plane. Somewhere there’s heaven, she sang to herself. Because if there was a heaven, wouldn’t this be it? Separated from earth by white fluffy clouds. She half expected to see angels wearing flowing white gowns playing harps. She half expected to see Penny, tapping on the window of the plane to get her attention. If only she believed in heaven.

“What?” Fern asked.

“Nothing. I was just singing to myself.”

“What song?”

“Just some song I know.”

“Teach it to me.”

Somewhere there’s music

How faint the tune

Somewhere there’s heaven

How high the moon

“How high is the moon?”

“Pretty high.”

“How do you know you can hear music there?”

“Because you can always hear music.”

“That’s good. Isn’t that good?”

“Yes, it’s very good.”

—

IT WAS a long trip. First they landed in Chicago, where they changed planes. Between Chicago and Los Angeles a fancy lunch was served on a tray. Miri couldn’t imagine how they managed to cook steak and French fries on a plane. The Parker House roll came with a pat of butter stamped TWA. She had never seen such tiny salt and pepper shakers. She thought about sneaking them into her bag but didn’t want to set a bad example for Fern. For dessert there was ice cream with a chocolate chip cookie.

After lunch the stewardess handed out decks of cards. Miri and Fern played War until Fern’s eyes closed. Miri covered her with a blanket and smoothed her hair away from her face. She was reminded of babysitting Penny and Betsy. But thinking of them made her too sad. She tried to read—Rusty had given her a copy of The Member of the Wedding, about a girl called Frankie who felt she didn’t belong anywhere in the world. She wasn’t sure if Rusty thought it would appeal to her because they were setting out for the unknown, because Rusty was marrying Dr. O or just because it was a good book. But she couldn’t concentrate. She caught herself drifting off and shook her sleepiness away. She would not allow herself to sleep while she was flying, though when she’d gone to the restroom she’d passed Rusty and Dr. O, both dozing, and Irene and Ben, both asleep with their mouths partly open.

Before they landed in Los Angeles, the stewardess suggested they reset their watches to Pacific Time, which was three hours earlier than in New Jersey. They changed to a smaller plane for the short flight to Las Vegas. The stewardess handed out copies of the Las Vegas Sun as they boarded. Miri took one, and as soon as she was seated with her seat belt fastened, she thumbed through it. She stopped when she came to an intriguing headline:

Las Vegas Sun

MCCARTHY LOSES FACE IN VERBAL FIRE

JUNE 30—What was perhaps the most drama-packed and best-attended political meeting ever held in Nevada broke up in a scene of bedlam last night at War Memorial hall after the audience had listened to Sen. Joseph McCarthy of Wisconsin, who had purportedly come here to speak on behalf of Sen. George W. Malone, now seeking re-election.

McCarthy in his typical wild swinging fashion, with no regard for facts but with a hold on his audience that is frightening, called Sun publisher Hank Greenspun “an ex-convict” and “an admitted Communist, publisher of the Las Vegas ‘Daily Worker.’ ”

Women shuddered and strong men controlled their emotions with difficulty as the attacks continued. They had never heard such disgraceful language in Nevada.

Cheers rang out when Greenspun responded and challenged the Wisconsin Senator to debate these “vicious lies.” But McCarthy turned and ran like a scared rabbit.

—

TOO BAD Miri couldn’t share that story with Eleanor. They could taunt Donny Kellen about his hero, McCarthy, except they’d heard Donny had been shipped off to military school. And who knew the next time she’d see Eleanor? Still, she liked knowing this was the newspaper Dr. O would probably bring home every day, or maybe it would be delivered to their house. It made life in Las Vegas seem real. They had a newspaper and the publisher’s name was Hank, short for Henry. A good omen.

When Fern squealed, “Here come the bumps! Daddy—it’s the bumps!” Dr. O turned in his seat to look back at Fern, to smile at her, to pat her leg.

The smooth air had turned choppy on the final descent into Las Vegas. Miri didn’t like it. It wasn’t like riding a bucking bronco. Not that she’d ever been on a bucking bronco but she’d seen them in cowboy movies. These bumps were unpredictable. The stewardess told them to keep their seat belts fastened until they’d landed.

Rusty turned to Miri. “How’re you doing, honey?”

“I’m fine.” A lie. She was so terrified she dug her fingernails into the fabric of her seat cushion. “How about you?”

“Good.” But Rusty didn’t look good. She was pale, with beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip.

As they came lower and lower in their descent, the scene out the window looked to Miri like a moonscape, or how she imagined a moonscape would look. Sandy and flat with tall, dark mountains rising out of nowhere.

Lower and lower out of the wild blue yonder, lower and lower until the wheels hit the ground with a thud and the pilot reversed the engines, making a grinding noise. The captain spoke to them over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to McCarran Field, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your stay in Las Vegas. We hope you’ll join us again.”

She’d survived the trip. Even if she never flew again, which she was sure she wouldn’t, at least she’d gone up into the wild blue yonder three times. At least she’d done that.

The passengers applauded as if they’d been watching a show. They were all yakking, thrilled to have landed at McCarran Field or maybe thrilled just to have landed. When they were told they were free to unbuckle their seat belts, Fern jumped into Dr. O’s arms. Rusty, still looking unwell, draped an arm over Miri’s shoulder. “We made it.”