Page 68 of Fan Favorite

The cabin lights dimmed. After a moment, Peter said he’d better head back to his seat, that she should sleep, long flight. But then the flight attendant appeared and offered them a nightcap, and next thing you know, Peter was sipping bourbon with a blanket smoothed over his legs, his shoes were off, and the toe of one Converse was sticking into the aisle the tiniest bit. Edie was cozy, too, with her hair piled on the top of her head and an eye mask strapped across her forehead. She had her UW-Madison hoodie on. Her armrests were up, and her legs were tucked onto the seat next to her as she leaned toward him.They’d been asking each other the most ridiculous questions—favorite Backstreet Boy (Brian), best iteration of a potato (a tie between french fries and mashed)—and their shared hot takes were really making her laugh.

“Okay, I’ve got a good one,” Edie said, pointing her bourbon at him. “What’s the best Tom Hanks movie?”

“Oh, thatisa good one.”

“Lotta choices.”

“Lotta choices,” he agreed. “And a lottagoodchoices, which you can’t say about every actor. Canonical choices.Philadelphia. A League of Their Own. Cast Away. Sleepless in Seattle. Forrest Gump.You know there’s a coalition of people who hateForrest Gump? It’s not a cool film to like these days.”

“Are you going withGump?”

“Calm down, Pepper, I haven’t made my selection yet.” Peter aped a series of thinking poses—stroking a nonexistent beard, taking his glasses off and holding them to the light, rubbing them on his sweater, putting them back on. “You want just one movie or top five?”

“Just one.”

“You’re tough, Pepper, you’re tough. This is the legendary Tom Hanks we’re talking about.” Finally, Peter clapped his hands together. “Okay! I’ve scoured my internal IMDB, and I feel confident in my answer. Ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” she said, casually polishing off her bourbon.

“Big.”

Edie froze. “Are you serious?”

“Houston, do we have a problem?” he asked. “That was anApollo 13reference, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“No problem,” she said. She just really couldn’t believe he’d saidBig. When Edie asked this question as her icebreaker on dating apps, she was always looking for a guy who saidBig.OrThe Money Pit. OrToy Story.You’ve Got Mail.Or evenThe Post, because a journalist with principles was a very sexy thing. But all the time it was justSaving Private Ryan,Saving Private Ryan. To Edie,Saving Private Ryanindicated this macho sense that emotion could only be expressed if a man was pushed to his absolute limit. But Edie’s worldview was not about staring straight at the worst of humanity—war and death, brotherhood and love only in the face of war and death. Essentially what Edie wanted was Tom Hanks himself—or at least what he embodied to her—reaching out and touching all the possibilities of human experience from a place of good humor and an idealistic certainty that everything would work out in the end.

“It’s just thatBigis the perfect answer.” She shrugged, nonchalant.

“Pew, pew, pew!” Peter said, shooting dorky lasers in the air with his fingers. “I knew it. It’s that piano scene. And the trampoline he’s got in the middle of that Tribeca loft. And how complicated adults make things when kids justget it. And it’s sweet, but not too sweet. Just the right amount of sweet.”

“Peter, that’s exactly right,” Edie said, astounded by this meeting of minds. “You know, you can tell a lot about a person from their favorite Tom Hanks film.”

“Oh yeah? What can you tell about me?”

She smiled. “That you’re sweet, but not too sweet. Just the right amount of sweet.”

He threw an airline pillow at her.

“Bigmakes sense for you, though. It’s a love story, but a platonic one.” She put the pillow behind her head and stared into the darkened cabin. “About a boy who gets in over his head, but he’s got the love of his best friend, he’s got the love of his mother waiting for him back home, so when it counts, he can see what he’s made of.” She leveled her gaze back to Peter. “None of that romantic love stuff you don’t believe in.”

“First of all, wrong. There’s a very creepy love story between Tom Hanks as twelve-year-old Josh and Elizabeth Perkins as thirtysomething toy exec Susan. Second, when did I say that about love?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that time you gave me a speech about dead people on Tinder.”

He scoffed. Then winced.

He took his glasses off and rubbed his face with both hands.

“Are you getting me?” He peeked at her through his fingers. “Don’t get me.”

“Too late.” She cocked her head at him. “What’s the deal with you, anyway? You were married?”

“I was married,” Peter confirmed, dropping his hands. He put his glasses back on and took the little red straw out of his bourbon, twisting it around his finger until the skin went white. “For six years. Julie. It didn’t end well. Well, I guess it did for her. She’s with someone else now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well.” He drank the rest of his bourbon.

---