by Janette Rallison, Heather B. Moore, Luisa Perkins, Sarah M. Eden, Annette Lyon, Lisa Mangum
He went on. “So, you asked what was on my mind. That’s what was on my mind. Also... I was thinking about asking you if you’d be willing to kiss me…” He trailed off, staring intently at her.
Warmth rushed through Marisol’s core, and she brushed impatiently at her traitorous eyes. “So then ask me, Dr. Jackson,” she said simply, trying to remain dignified.
Again, that blinding smile. “Ask me, Darius,” he corrected.
“Ask me, Darius,” she repeated, unable to stop grinning. “Ask me to kiss you.”
Darius glanced at Reese. He sat frozen, listening intently, a spoon held in mid-air and a small smile playing around his lips. Then Darius moved closer to Marisol, reaching out to her across the sand walls and towers of the palacio. “Will you kiss me, Marisol Flores?”
“Sí, Darius Jackson, I will.”
Luisa Perkins is the author of the dark fantasy novel Dispirited, the conspiracy thriller Premonition, and the cookbook Comfortably Yum. She has had short stories and essays published in numerous print and online anthologies. She and her husband, Patrick, have six children, and they live in a small town in Southern California. Luisa blogs (infrequently) at http://kashkawan.squarespace.com.
Follow Luisa on Twitter: @LuisaPerkins
Miguel Santos boasted a long list of cities he’d visited by means of airport layovers. His experience with Phoenix was limited to Sky Harbor. His time in Chicago was spent exclusively at O’Hare. It seemed LaGuardia was to be his only glimpse of New York City.
He’d heard enough about the Big Apple to know he was getting a raw deal. His one-time girlfriend Jane loved New York; she’d told him so dozens of times. She’d also said she loved him, so he figured she was probably only interested in New York as a friend, since that’s what “I love you” turned out to mean.
“This isn’t what I want. It isn’t what I ever wanted.” Her words were tattooed on his mind. He’d been expecting a simple “Yes, I’d love to marry you.” At least the jeweler had given him a full refund on the ring and a coupon for 5% off a future purchase of $1000 or more. Yup. That made it all better.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice came over the speakers in the airport terminal, “for those of you flying with us to Denver, we have an important announcement.”
Miguel, along with the rest of Gate 5, turned to face the airline agent at the counter. Their flight was due to depart in only five minutes, and the plane they were supposed to board hadn’t even arrived.
“The National Weather Service has issued severe weather alerts for most of the Midwest, in effect until seven p.m. local time.”
The announcement was met with groans from many of the other passengers. Miguel had endured more than his share of weather delays. Getting upset hadn’t helped with any of them.
“The weather has delayed your aircraft, along with many others,” the agent continued. “Please know that we are doing all we can to get you to your final destination and will update you as more information is known. Thank you.”
Miguel silently counted, watching the counter. He knew what came next. 3... 2... 1...
Right on cue, floods of angry passengers stormed the counter. Though he couldn’t hear their demands, he knew what they were. Someone would be insisting the airline get them to Denver on time because of something important. Someone else would be yelling about how unacceptable the delay was and threatening to talk to the media or their lawyer or the FAA. Almost everyone would demand an exact timeframe for departure despite having been told already that there wasn’t one.
Travel didn’t generally bring out the best in people.
Miguel pulled out his phone and checked the weather for himself. Sure enough, the radar map was lit up from Canada to Texas, Nebraska to Tennessee. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon.
A burly man in a business suit sat on the stool next to Miguel’s and slammed his forearms down onto the table. LaGuardia, at least the terminal Miguel had seen, was filled with stools at long tables and short booths with charging stations. If they were stuck here all night, there’d probably be a battle to the death for the few old-fashioned row seats scattered around the terminal. There’d be nowhere else to lie down other than the floor.
“Ridiculous,” the businessman muttered. “They say the flight may be cancelled.”
Miguel clicked through to the current weather warnings. “With weather like this, flights will be cancelled all over.”
“The airline should do something about it.”
“About the weather? I think you’re confusing airlines with God.”
That earned him a muttered observation about Mexicans and idiot Catholics. The guy demands that the airline magically wave away a storm system, and I am the idiot?
“I’m going to do something about the delay,” Miguel said, pocketing his phone.
The man eyed him doubtfully. “What could you do about it?”
“Buy myself a magazine and get comfortable.”
His fellow passenger repeated his earlier observation, though more clearly stated this time. So Manuel responded in Spanish with one of his abuela’s favorite observations about enduring the company of ignorant people.
“Don’t even have the decency to speak English,” the man muttered.
Why was it that hearing Spanish made so many people in America bristle so much? It wasn’t as if Miguel hadn’t just had a detailed conversation with the guy in perfect English. The fact that he could speak a second language would have been a point in his favor anywhere else.
Miguel left the grumbler behind and headed toward the nearest newsstand. He’d done more reading in airports than almost anywhere else. He thumbed through the racks. Which did he want this time? Sports? News? Anything but celebrity gossip, really.
“Attention, please. Passenger J. Schoonenburg, please see an airline representative at Gate D5. Passenger J. Schoonenburg.”
Miguel spun around. Schoonenburg. Jane’s last name was Schoonenburg. How many J. Schoonenburgs could there be flying from New York, Jane’s favorite city, to Denver, her hometown? He rushed from the newsstand empty-handed, back to the gate. He kept a safe distance from the counter, watching for “Passenger J. Schoonenburg.” The place was chaotic. TVs blared the news with word of widespread weather alerts sliding across the bottom of the screen. Agents were attempting to calm frustrated passengers. Miguel eyed them all, searching.
Out of nowhere, there she was. Jane. Dressed like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Cool. Collected. Beautiful.
He hadn’t seen her since she’d told him she didn’t want to marry him. Three months that had felt like years. Now here she was, on the same flight he was taking home, stuck in the same terminal at the same airport.
The only question was, should he go talk to her— and risk the possible humiliation— or do his best to stay out of her sight?
“I’m Jane Schoonenburg. I was paged.”
The agent nodded and reached under the counter. “Your boarding card was found and turned in.”
Jane thumbed through the outer pocket of her carryon, where she always kept her boarding cards. “I didn’t even know I’d lost it.” Sure enough, it was missing.
“I’ll need to see your ID,” the agent said.
“Of course.” Jane pulled her driver’s license from her wallet and handed it to the agent. After a quick moment, she received it and her boarding pass back. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Weather information flashed across a nearby TV screen. “Any word on when or if we might be in the air?”
“We have no new information, but we will be certain to pass it on once we do.”
Jane offered an empathetic half-smile. “I am probably the hundredth person to ask.”
That brought a bit of humor to the agent’s face. “Two hundredth, at least.”
“And how many have demanded that you fix the weather?”
“Most.” The agent laughed the word. “If airlines could control the
weather, believe me, we would.”
“Well, for everyone’s sake, I hope the weather clears quickly.” She checked one more time to make certain her boarding card was safely stowed in her bag, then stepped away from the counter so the next irate passenger could demand answers.
Jane visited New York several times a year on business, though she always made time for enjoying the city. She’d never made a single trip here that didn’t have its share of chaos. She’d learned to simply roll with the punches, both in travel and in life.
She sat at one of the booths near the gate. Life had certainly dealt her its share of punches. Not a day went by that she didn’t think of Miguel and wonder what might have happened if he hadn’t ruined everything between them.
Coming to New York was supposed to clear her head of all that. Her head and her heart. It hadn’t worked at all. At least this trip had given her a little time away from home and all of the things there that reminded her of him. If she could just get him out of her thoughts, she could move on.
That’s what you’ve got to do. Get him out of your thoughts.
It was simple enough.
“Hey,” someone said.
She looked up, directly into the chocolate-brown eyes of Miguel Santos.
Miguel was already second-guessing his decision. “I heard them call your name.” Is that really the first thing I said to her?
“What are you doing here?” Hers was not a tone of pleasant surprise.
Awkward.
“My latest Layover Vacation.” He tried to play it cool, but knew he was failing miserably. “Now I can say I’ve been to New York.”
“LaGuardia doesn’t count as New York. JFK, maybe. But definitely not LaGuardia.”
Making small talk about airports was almost as bad as chatting about the weather. They’d once been able to talk about anything. “How long were you in New York this time?”
“Four days,” she said.
Miguel nodded. The nod didn’t mean anything, he just couldn’t think of anything else to do. He stood there looking at her, while she fidgeted in her seat. “Did you see a show?”
“Newsies.”
He nodded some more. All the times he’d thought about running into her again, he’d never pictured himself acting so stupid. But this was Jane, the woman he still loved. The woman he would probably always love. Acting stupid seemed unavoidable.
“How are your parents?” he asked.
“They hate each other and demand that their children do the same. So, same as always.” She shrugged as if her family being completely dysfunctional didn’t bother her, but he knew better. Her parents had divorced when she was a teenager and had been going for each other’s jugulars ever since. “What about your family?”
“Still loud and nosey. And still bribing the police with tamales to look the other way when their backyard parties get a little out of hand.” He could still remember the horror on Jane’s face the first time she’d attended one of their extended-family parties. The music was loud. The people were louder. The neighbors often complained— those who hadn’t accepted the invitation to join in. But she’d adjusted quickly and soon fit right in. “Mamá asks about you. They all do. They— we miss you.”
“Don’t, Miguel.” She stood and pushed past him. “Just don’t.”
Well, that didn’t work. He watched her take long, determined strides to the other side of the gate area and drop into a different booth. It was impossible to misinterpret that.
The Santoses had always been superstitious. His grandfather had gone to bed with socks on because his father had died barefooted. Miguel’s mother always ate nuts in even numbers so she’d never accidentally eat thirteen. For some reason, she felt that nuts were the unluckiest food. His brother couldn’t see a black cat without spitting. If fate, chance, divine intervention, or whatever it was, had brought Jane back into Miguel’s life by stranding them both at the same airport, he wasn’t going to turn his back on the chance to try winning her over again.
Big words, considering she isn’t even talking to you.
“Attention, passengers. We have updated information regarding flight 884 to Denver. We are looking at a delay of at least two hours. We ask for your continued patience. The weather has delayed flights throughout the country.”
The response was immediate. Some were angry, others clearly worried. Jane’s gaze darted to Miguel. For a moment, she looked wary, vulnerable. But just as quickly, the look was replaced with defiance. In an instant, she had her phone out and her attention diverted.
A man could come up with a lot of plans in two hours. He’d try every single one of them if he needed to. Jane had once said she loved him. Even as she’d turned down his proposal, she’d said she loved him. That she didn’t want to marry him, but she loved him.
They’d dated for a year. He’d known she was the one in the first month. That she didn’t run away screaming the first time she’d been introduced to his crazy extended family only made him more certain. But she had run screaming from the prospect of wearing his ring. She wouldn’t even give him a reason beyond, “This isn’t what I want.”
The three months since she’d ended things had been miserable. Living without her had convinced him that if marriage wasn’t what she wanted, he needed to find out what she did want. If there was any way he could find to make her wants meet his somewhere in the middle, he’d do it. In a heartbeat.
But how are you going to find that out if she’s putting the length of a terminal gate between you? He sat in the booth she’d been in. He knew her better than anyone else. If he gave it some thought, he could come up with something that would pierce her armor just enough to get her to talk to him. But what did he have to work with?
New York was her favorite city. But apparently LaGuardia didn’t count.
She liked musicals. But he didn’t have a Broadway cast on hand to stage a musical number right there in the airport. He also couldn’t sing. Or dance. Or act.
She was a big Robert Downy, Jr. fan. But, honestly, if he’d had Robert Downy, Jr. on speed dial, Miguel would have had him handle the proposal in the first place, and he wouldn’t be in this mess.
Jane loved Mamá’s tamales— who didn’t? But Miguel didn’t have any handy.
What do you have handy? He set his carryon bag on the table and dug through it. A protein bar. A dog-eared paperback of Variant. His wallet, though offering Jane the seventeen dollars in there wouldn’t do any good. A half-empty bag of trail mix. The bottle of water he bought after his was confiscated at security. Last, and definitely least, his ratty old sweatshirt. A pathetic collection of potential offerings.
Dude, you’re such a loser.
His bag of tricks had failed him. Time for more desperate measures: buying overpriced goods at an airport newsstand and offering them up as a bribe. He had seventeen dollars, after all. And a credit card.
He passed the magazines— giving her reading material would defeat his purpose— and went straight for the snack section. He knew Jane’s junk food habits well. Funyuns. Oreos, Double Stuf. Washed down with Dr. Pepper. And for dessert, gummy peach rings. He grabbed them all, plus a few things for himself. If he was going to stage a dead-relationship intervention, he needed the strength that came from a full-size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and Sunkist.
He walked back to the gate with his arms full of loot. With an empty calorie count like he was lugging around, Jane wouldn’t be able to resist talking to him. At least she wouldn’t have been able to resist it if she had still been sitting where he’d last seen her.
Where’d she go? He didn’t see her anywhere. Maybe she’d sensed the approach of irresistible cuisine and took off. He dropped his armful onto the booth table where she had been sitting and sat on the bench. The gate had calmed. Plenty of passengers still glared and fumed, but they were doing it sitting down rather than gathered around the counter.
Jane had disappeared. Maybe she’d decided to wait out the delay somewhere else in the termin
al, banking on hearing the announcement over the loudspeakers. That took a level of desperation even Double Stuf Oreos wasn’t likely to overcome. But the newsstand and the vending machines didn’t carry cheesecake, her go-to in a crisis. He was more of a dulce de leche man, himself.
He eyed the Funyuns. Traitor. He pushed the bag aside. He needed a new strategy. If only he’d run into her in the TSA security line. They’d have had endless hours in each other’s company, and she would have had no escape.
That’s a really nice thing to wish on the woman you’d hoped to marry.
“You stole my seat.”
“Jane.” How long had she been standing there? “I came over, but you were gone.”
She motioned to the table. “Have you taken up snack hoarding?”
He picked up the Funyuns bag. “You know how much I love these.”
“You hate them.” Her gaze scanned the rest of the loot. “Double Stuf Oreos. Dr. Pepper. Wait a minute.” She skewered him with a suspiciously glare. “Is this a bribe?”
“That depends. Is it working?”
“Maybe,” she said hesitantly. “What is it you’re hoping I’ll do for all of this?”
“Just talk.” He could see her defenses going up immediately. “Nothing too personal. Just a chat between friends.”
Come on, Jane. Don’t leave me hanging here.
“I do like Funyuns.” But she still looked uncertain.
“I might even share my Doritos with you.”
Her nose wrinkled up. “But they’re Cool Ranch.”
He shook his head and sighed dramatically. “You never were a connoisseur.”
She laughed, her lips pulling upward in the dazzling smile he’d missed so much over the past three months. They’d been happy together. They honestly had been. There had to be a way of getting that back again.
The fact that Miguel knew her favorite junk food was not reason enough to stay and talk to him. Yet Jane sat across from him in the booth without further argument. He’d said they wouldn’t touch on difficult topics, and she would hold him to that.
