Airport

by Wingo Perseus

Why can't they tell you up front so you can sleep a little longer or drive, for goodness sake? The phone was running low and the book was boring. What was it that made him buy biographies of people he's supposed to care about rather than a good novel or a piece of fluff for that matter. Rove was making him ill.

  He was tired. He sat down, and he looked around. He pulled the speakers out of his ears and heard the din of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, milling and breathing, walking, running, looking at the board, each one with a different destination, a different story.

  Luis, lost in his thoughts, started to steam up. Settle down, he told himself. You've lasted longer.

  And he imagines the open air on the other side of these windows. People are amassed here inside this steel and glass barn. Outside, they are driving their cars, going to the grocery store, walking the dog, making love, making money, living their lives.

  In his daydream, he is busting out of the airport, jumping into a fast car. It's a yellow convertible, and he is roaring down the road, up to the mountains. No, better still, he's heading out to the coast. Yes, that's right, up Route One on the vast coast of California, past the low shore with birds…where is that place?…past the whales rounding Point Reyes and up into the hills above Bodega Bay that remind him so much of Ireland.

  He can even see the cows, black as coal against the Sonoma clover. And the sandbar where the ocean meets the Russian River at Jenner, where harbor seals bask in the sun. And he senses that anything is possible in the quiet, in the green, with the wide Pacific shining so bright that it makes him squint. And he can smell the ocean and hear it crash. There's a faint mist from the surf pounding the rocks and flying up over the headland.

  He can hear the tattlers on the rocks.

  “Threet, threet, threet, threet, threet”

  “You think we'll board today?”

  And the yellowlegs' little hoot, and the sorrowful call of the osprey. He hears the chatter of the seashore.

  “I say, you expect we're going anytime soon?”

  He realizes he's hearing a human voice among the shorebirds.

  With a pop in his ears, the bubble broke. Luis was surprised to see a young woman in front of him. He was counting the row of rings up her left ear lobe and trying to identify the kind of bird that was tattooed on her shoulder. It was so tiny and hard to make out, but the overall impression was fine, like Japanese art.

  “Sorry, man.”

  With a start, Luis realized this vision was talking to him. Right at him.

  “Oh, what? Er? Well, I don't work for the airlines.”

  “Well, that ticket in your pocket already gave you away. Just thought you looked like somebody who, you know, does this a lot. Didn't mean to bother you.” And she began to walk away.

  “No, no no!” he roared, way too loudly. “You didn't bother me. I was thinking about something…else…and I didn't hear you.”

  He was digging himself in deeper, but she just smiled. A small smile. A tired smile.

  “Going home?”

  “Sure wish I was. I'm off to an audition, and I'm not going to get it. Waste of money. And now I'm not going to get there at all.”

  “If they cancel, you can get your money back.”

  “Well, that's good news. See, I knew you knew stuff.”

  TWELVE

  Ready to Go

  Hours had passed. The sun had set ages ago. He saw the same little striped boy being led down a long corridor, hand in hand with a woman in airline uniform. He was licking a white ice cream cone and walked with purpose. Most of his treat was on his shirt, making music out of his stripes. And yet, he looked dignified and sure. Luis wondered where his people were, if he had any. The boy gave a long, lingering look over his shoulder at Luis as he receded.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, Flight 1219 has been canceled, so this is the only plane out of here tonight. We cannot accommodate all the passengers who would like to travel, so we are looking for volunteers. You can earn a $250 travel coupon for your seat. If your travel plans are flexible, please see the agent at Gate Ten. Again, we do not have enough seats to accommodate….”

  “Oh, man, I could use the money. Want to go tomorrow?”

  “They don't give you money, just a ticket on another flight that will probably get delayed, too.”

  “I'm not sleeping on a bench!”

  “What do you think, Mary? Should we call the kids?”

  “Means this flight is really going this time, so I am hanging on to my ticket, and so are you.”

  Chatter and bargaining filled the lounge. Will we? Won't we?

  “Can they make you get off?”

  “Like to see them try. My brother's a lawyer.”

  “Your brother flunked the bar three times. Take the money.”

  A few souls went to the counter and surrendered their tickets. The rest of the weary passengers could see them heading for the main terminal clutching dinner vouchers in their hands. It still seemed a pretty full departure lounge to Luis. All these people on just one plane?

  Luis' new companion leaned toward him. As she brushed the hair from her face, he saw the amber flecks in her green eyes. She came in close, and he smelled rose water.

  “I think they have a big old coin, and we'll all flip to see who gets on.”

  “Pretty arbitrary, don't you think? I am sure they have a better system.”

  “What's arbitrary about it? It all comes down to fate in the end.”

  “You believe that? Everything is destined?”

  “Well, who's to say it isn't? What chain of events that took all day! I might add has us sitting here chatting? Don't you feel like we were on a course for this day?”

  “Now you're spooking me,” Luis laughed. “Like there is something strange going on with our plane. Are we going into a time warp, like they do in a sci-fi movie? I think it's just a matter of course. Happens all the time.”

  “Nah, not the plane. With us. It might happen all the time, but right now, right here, it is happening to us. Seems like fate to me.”

  “Well then fate is proximity—it's just who you end up next to.”

  “Exactly!” the girl beamed and tossed back her hair. “Now you're catching on!”

  “I have to say it's okay ending up next to you; I am enjoying your… perspective. But as to fate, then all these people were fated to meet today.”

  “You catch on fast.”

  “So there's really nothing special about it. Or weird. Or strange. Fate is just what happens.”

  “Except to us. You and me. Doesn't it feel like we've known each other all along?”

  Luis had to admit she was right.

  “For those passengers waiting on Flight 221, we are now heavily oversold. We are looking for volunteers to go on the next flight in the morning. If you are willing to give up your seat, you will earn a travel voucher for five hundred dollars and we will put you up in the airport hotel. Travel vouchers have no black-out dates and can be used for domestic as well as international travel. Again, we are looking for volunteers….”

  That's the fate we sign on for in the skies, Luis thought. In life, people come together and move apart, like vast seas ruled by tides. It's astonishing to think how random it all is, but giving up control puts one in unusual situations. They were along for the ride, that was certain.

  And what about this strange young woman? Luis wondered at her calm, her certainty, at the same time he suspected she was slightly off her rocker. Well, in a good way, anyway. Seeing the world fresh.

  They talked, they debated, they sat in silence. At one point, when she was focused on texting from her phone, he looked over at a face that brought back a memory of a time lost, an age ago. She tossed her hair. She yawned. She fell asleep.

  Across the aisle, Luis' eyes settled on the older couple again. Their delay had lengthened as well. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, they sat like royalty, husband and wife. She wore a lilac jacket. Her nearly-white hair was set just so, and her sparkling eyes, sw
eet yet tired, looked out of gold-framed glasses. Beside her, her husband of many years wore a baby-blue sport coat, white shirt and tie. From their perfect grooming to their white hair to their pale faces to their spotless demeanor, they spoke of another time. So different, they were, from the black- and grey- clothed youth surrounding them.

  An airline bag from a carrier that no longer flew sat at her heels. Quietly, without disturbing anything in the air, they breathed in the commotion around them. The old man had been to the counter earlier in the hour and, satisfied with the information he got, sat back down with a sigh to wait, two boarding passes in his breast pocket.

  People came. They went. Still, the couple sat, watching, as though fifty years provided a vantage point, a private balcony for them to see the world's workings.

  There was a little flurry of activity when and airline person stepped to the counter and announced boarding. The woman popped up like a lawn sprinkler as he said to her, “Come on, Ma. Get your hat on, we're going.” He took her hand, and they walked down the jetway. Luis could see, now that she had turned, that it was a butterfly pin on her lapel. They emanated the soft pastel light of old age.

  “You see them, too,” said the tattooed girl. “They are lovely, aren't they? I've been watching them and wondering, what's their story? Were they like that from the moment they met, or just because of all those years together? Is that fate? What do they make of all this? What makes them so calm? They don't seem to be flapped at all. But then, they've practiced waiting a lot longer than we have.”

  “For those passengers on Flight 221, we are looking for just two more seats. If your travel plans are flexible.”

  Luis looked at the girl and smiled.

  “My name is Clara,” she said.

  THIRTEEN

  Landing

  The sun came through the windows like a blaze of light.

  It was a quiet morning in the airport, midweek, routine flights, clear skies and smooth sailing. Passengers moved about with ease, smiling at each other, helping people with their bags. It was a day that made folks want to fly. The world was fresh and young.

  “Flight 221 is now accepting all passengers, all rows. Please limit your carry-on to…”

  A little boy ran to the window to see the plane. On his lapel, he wore a pair of wings his dad got from an airline that didn't even exist anymore. Still, the boy wore his pin with pride.

  “Grandma will be so surprised, right, Momma?”

  “Yes, dear…and you look so handsome in your sport coat.”

  “She let me help with cookies last time. I put candy for eyes. Remember?”

  “Of course, I do, darling. You are her Favorite Boy.”

  “And Grandpa and I make Big Plans for town. Maybe he'll let me drive!”

  “Soon, love, very soon.”

  “And here, Momma? Was it here you knew?”

  “Yes, child, right in this airport. I knew your father was the one. It was fate.”

  “Do you have the tickets, love?” He saw the sun glint off gold along her left ear. An ear he never tired of kissing.

  “Tickets and toddler, all accounted for.”

  “Then shall we see what fate holds next for us?”

  At the last moment, she slips her tattooed arm into his as Luis takes the boy's hand. They step into the jetway, together.