Walking into the terminal, she quickly finds the baggage claim for his airline and sits in a chair close by, setting her cardboard sign down on the table. The sign, expertly designed from the side of a box and some permanent marker, has been drawing attention the whole trip down, as one side has two swords on it, and the other, his name. She checks the time, and then the arrival's board, and then her phone again, pacing back and forth. It's early, his flight is early, but it should have landed already and he is no where to be seen. Not wanting to be caught off guard, she stands by the baggage claim, sign in one hand as she scans the corridor in both directions.
Waiting next to her is two women; mother and daughter she presumes. To keep her nervous mind occupied, she asks them who they are waiting for and where they are coming from. Salt Lake. It landed way before the Denver flight. Darn it. They ask her in return and she explains that her boyfriend is coming in for the weekend. Their friend arrives and they wish her luck as they walk away to retrieve baggage.
Ten minutes later and he is still nowhere to be seen. She paces back and forth, craning to see around the people and equipment of the baggage claim floor. She checks the flight status board again and finally sees that his flight has been recorded as landed. Her heart races as she looks again and again down both sides of the hallway. A group of Utes walk up to the board and she directs them to their claim, three down the way. One in particular asks her who she is waiting for, and wishes her luck. She wishes him the best and continues and wait, the butterflies in her stomach growing unbearable.
An older gentleman standing near the status board has been watching her and she has the distinct impression that he knows what is going on, and from the twinkle in his eye, he approves. She checks again. The flight landed at 6:33 and its now nearly 7:00; every moment is agony. She decides to check down the hall again, and walks to the other side of the board, where, standing suddenly in her way, he is there. Dressed in a brown sweater and jeans, she stops a few feet away from him, so startled to finally see him after an unbearably stressful evening of preparations and waiting.
She says his name as she runs the few feet into his arms, trying to remember how to breathe again. He smiles and bids her hello, then puts his arm around her shoulder and guides her back to the baggage claim to wait. She stands as close as possible, looking up at him, studying every detail, remembering again what he looks like up close. People mill about, and the two women from earlier walk by with their friend wishing her a good night. Finally, grabbing his bag from the carousel, he turns with her to walk to the train and she catches the eye of that old man by the sign. He winks and nods his head, and she smiles inwardly, relieved to know that others can see the love she feels so strongly, afraid to show.
She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in the middle of his brown sweater. He leans down, planting a soft kiss on her head; both whispering their goodbyes. Handing him his bag, she watches him walk around the rope barricades to the security line. He reaches the end of the line and turns around, smiling at his love, now twenty five feet away. A mere twenty five feet, but there is already no turning back. He has left, and she must watch him go.
A few more moments pass and he slowly inches his way up the line, at last reaching the security attendant. He turns around and smiles again, offering a wave of goodbye. She is standing in the same place, smiling and waving back, hoping he is far enough away to not see the tears the she is blinking back. After taking his time in the security line, he sends her a text. "I love you". She replies and waves at her love, across a sea of people and barriers, designed specifically to keep people out.
He begins to walk to his gate, and she mirrors his steps, blowing him one last smiling kiss as he rounds the corner. It is important to smile, she thinks to herself, to help him. But as soon as he is gone, her heart falls and her smile disappears. The weight of the world suddenly seems to rest on her shoulders and she doesn't know what to do with it.
She wanders down the hall to the bathroom. For ten minutes she stands in front of the mirror, thinking and trying very hard not to think. Somehow she makes it to the train, and finds a seat in the back by herself, sending a few last text messages to her love, wishing she was there as he begged to stay, wishing she could tell him to come back through the line and stay with her forever. He promises to call her as soon as his plane lands and she fakes a happy goodbye, wishing him luck.
Someone asks her for directions at the bus stop, and she answers but not very well, though she knows the area. She gets on the wrong bus, and gets off a few blocks later, wandering to a convenience store to buy his favorite drink. She can't get it on campus, and the idea of not having any makes her shudder, without making any sense. The store clerk looks at her strangely and she thinks she must have been staring, but it makes no difference. She crosses the street to a sandwich shop. She knows exactly what he would order, and though she doesn't really like it, she buys one, even asking for his weird sauce combination.
Walking blindly across campus in the dark, she is faintly aware of her solitude, but the sudden loneliness in familiar surroundings renders the warning of safety unheard. She walks flat footed, shoulders slumped not in fatigue or pain, but without desire to otherwise. She shovels bites of sandwich into her mouth, noting the flavors and wondering how he could like such a combination. She isn't even hungry, but it doesn't matter, nothing she thinks or feels is of any importance tonight, only that she somehow keeps him with her. Keeps that face in her mind forever, that wave, the look in his eyes as he passed through the gate.
She was that girl at the gate.
I was that girl at the gate.
1 comment:
That made me cry
Post a Comment