|
HOME POETRY SHORT
STORIES THE
WRITER BUDDHISM EMAIL  Click to join WritersCafe's online discussion group.
|
Short Stories | |
|
An Old Friend Jakob always wondered if he would run into someone he knew when he flew. He studied the faces within the bustling crowds pushing from one gate to another, shuffling through the slow moving line in the security clearance area, and even milling around the magical carousel of dancing luggage. Among these detached strangers, he wondered if he would discover an old friend, perhaps, or someone he’d rather not see. Today, it seemed that a familiar face was nowhere to be found, but the flights that left at 6:00am were for the die-hards, so Jakob wasn’t surprised. Shortly after taking his place in seat 19F (by the window, but not in or directly in front of the Emergency Exit row, because he couldn’t stand to keep his seatback in its full, upright position), he glanced out the tiny window and onto the tarmac. The luggage tossers worked quietly, moving boxes, satchels, skis, bags and suitcases from their special carts onto a conveyer belt that led to the underbelly of the plane, out of Jakob’s view. His seatbelt fastened in anticipation of being ordered to anyway, Jakob made an early grab for the in-flight magazine from the stretchy pocket in front of him. The magazine was sandwiched between the airsickness bag and the passenger safety guide, just next to an overlooked and half-eaten bag of snack mix stuffed with a used Kleenex. “Right here, honey,” said a woman leading a small boy. “This one?” said the boy, his free hand pointing toward the seat next to Jakob. “That’s the one! Here, let me have your bag.” The woman relieved the boy of his Snoopy backpack, probably filled with toys, coloring books and travel games. Jakob had packed bags like that one for his own son. The boy hopped onto the middle seat of the row, bouncing and wiggling backwards until he was all the way against the seat, his little shoes dangling in mid-air in front of him. Jakob suppressed a smile. This kid was cute. Poster-child cute, like the kids you see in movies. He had short blonde hair, cut simply around his head, and tousled on the side where he had slept on it. The woman put the boy’s bag in the overhead bin. As she reached upward, her shirt raised, revealing her soft navel. Jakob knew he was staring, but hoped no one would notice. Her flat stomach was perfect. For a few seconds, time seemed to slow, allowing Jakob to examine her belly, imagining how soft her skin would feel. What it would be like to lay his head on her stomach, to close his eyes and inhale her soft scent… “We’re going to see grandma!” the boy said. “Oh really?” Jakob replied. “I bet that will be fun.” “Yeah, we get to stay in a No-tell! Mom says they’ve got TV and ‘Tendo in it, and a pool too.” “Wow. Are you good at Nintendo?” Jakob’s boy had owned a Nintendo, too. The boy smiled, light flashing in his eyes at the opportunity to talk about games. “Oh yeah! Mom says I’m real good. She lets me get new games when I pick up my room, and when I’m not a terd, she says.” “I’m sorry,” the woman said, interrupting. “I hope he’s not bothering you, sir.” “Not at all,” replied Jakob. He looked at her face. Beyond it’s startling simple beauty was a sincere apology, and something else. Something darker. Jakob couldn’t identify it. “He’s excited to fly,” she continued. “This is his first time on an airplane since he was a baby.” Jakob looked at the boy, who was eager to be a part of the conversation again. “Is that right?” Jakob asked. “Yeah!” the boy smiled a big, sweet grin. “Mom says that the plane will go up, even bigger than where the birds are!” “Your mom’s right! I fly a lot. The birds have got nothin’ on us. We beat the feathers off ‘em.” Jakob winked at the boy’s mother, who smiled, then turned away, seemingly to adjust something on the bag she placed under the seat in front of her. “He’s no bother at all, I promise,” Jakob said to the woman. “What’s your name, little guy?” Jakob asked the boy. “Chad,” the boy replied. “Cool name, Chad,” Jakob nodded and gave the boy the “thumbs up”, as if to underscore the coolness. “Mine’s Jakob. Nice to meet you.” Jakob extended his hand, which Chad shook. Chad’s hand was small and soft. Jakob was again reminded of his own son, and for a second, his stomach fluttered. * * * The flight was uneventful, but Chad was fascinated. His mother fell asleep shortly after takeoff, her head resting awkwardly on a courtesy pillow one of the flight attendants had brought for her. When drinks were served, Jakob ordered orange juice for both he and Chad, as Chad’s mother was still sleeping. Jakob thought it was odd that she was sleeping so comfortably with her son sitting next to a strange man, but something had passed between the two of them, a sort of understanding. A trust. Jakob wondered if it was exhaustion that he had seen in her look earlier, and decided that it was possible. Jakob and Chad talked for more than an hour, taking turns telling stories about their families, kindergarten, houses, pets, TV shows, video games, and airplanes. The boy’s laughter was contagious. Before long, both of them were giggling and acting silly. “You’re something else, kiddo,” Jakob laughed, and scuffled the boy’s hair. Before Jakob knew what the boy was up to, Chad had planted a quick kiss on Jakob’s arm. The boy’s tiny lips were slightly moist, and for a moment after Chad had raised his head, Jakob felt the air from the small vent above him, slightly cooler where the kiss still rested, damp. Chad looked directly at Jakob, and all the playfulness of the previous hour was absent from his small features. “Would you be my dad?” the boy asked. “Ah…no, I can’t really do that,” Jakob said, “but I can be your friend.” Jakob felt sickened that he was able to dismiss the boy’s request so quickly. He felt embarrassed, a slow heat creeping into his cheeks and ears. “But, I want you to be my dad. I don’t have one any more.” Jakob forced a smile, “Well buddy, it doesn’t really work like that.” Inside, Jakob was screaming. He wanted to hold Chad close to his chest, like he was his own son. There was a connection between them that he couldn’t explain. “It could work like that.” The sleeping woman who had brightened the plane’s dull, familiar interior had awakened, and Jakob didn’t know how long she might have been listening. There were tears welling in her soft eyes. She looked at Jakob with an intensity that made him swallow hard. “I’m sorry,” Jakob stammered, “I don’t think I understand.” The woman straightened slightly in her chair. “Do you find me attractive?” Jakob couldn’t lie. Something about her pleading, desperate tone was disarming. “Well, yes, of course. You’re incredibly beautiful.” His voice broke at this, and he knew that somewhere inside, he was hungry for her, or for something like her. She was beautiful. Her soft brown hair fell just below her shoulders, and he had to clench his teeth and swallow again before he traced the soft curve of her shoulder lower, toward her breasts. She leaned closer to him. Jakob could tell she was choking back tears as she spoke in a broken whisper. “I’m so lonely,” she said, and a tear fell from her cheek, landing on Chad’s bare leg. Chad looked up at her, confused, worry shining clear on his face. She noticed and bent to kiss his forehead. “Chad’s father died last year,” she continued. “It was unexpected. Chad hasn’t had anyone…like you, to… I don’t know what I’m trying to say. There’s something about you, though.” Jakob wasn’t sure what to say next, so for an awkward moment, no one said a word. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, then straightened herself and looked forward toward nothing in particular. At once, Jakob knew the other thing that was behind this beautiful woman’s eyes. Sadness. “No, don’t be. Please,” Jakob began, but he wasn’t sure what he could say next. “Is Chicago your last stop?” She nodded her head, then wiped at her cheek with one hand. Jakob leaned closer to her, and before he had a chance to think, he spoke. “You should come and stay with me. I’ll have two double beds in my hotel room, and one’s going to just go to waste.” Jakob couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. She looked at him then, and opened her mouth to speak, but Jakob interrupted. “I’m lonely too,” he said. “I’ve been lonely for over two years, since my wife died.” Jakob fought back his own tears now. “My wife and son were in a car accident two years ago. He was probably Chad’s age. They were coming to visit me while I was working out of town. It was supposed to be a surprise.” Again the woman tried to say something, but Jakob couldn’t stop until he had said it all. He put his fingertips to her lips. “I’m tired of it,” Jakob said. “I’m tired of sleeping by myself. I want someone to talk to. Someone to reach out and touch with my big toe in the middle of the night.” He tried to smile, but the were both too caught up in the reality of the moment, the numbing force of their mutual confessions. It happened before there was any time to realize how strange it might be. They both leaned forward and kissed. Tears streamed from two sets of eyes that were squeezed tight, mingling on cheeks that were pressed together. Their breathing came in short bursts, punctuated by light sobs that felt more like laughter. Jakob felt Chad’s little head squeezed between their shoulders. Jakob’s fingers found her cheek; her skin was softer than he would ever have fantasized. They both overheard two teenagers in the seats behind them, giggling. “Get a room,” one of them whispered, and they both laughed again. In their minds there was no reason to question what had taken place, so aside from Jakob asking the woman her name, which turned out to be Claire, nothing else needed to be said. Jakob had found much more than an old friend on this trip; he had found a new best friend, and one with which the words “happily ever after” settled comfortably with. The two sat, fingers interlaced on Chad’s lap as they rode the rest of the trip to Chicago.
|
||
|
If you encounter any problems with this site, please send email to kevin@writerscafe.net. All content, information and design © 2006, Kevin L. McDonald, All rights reserved. No information from this site may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author. |
