SNOWED IN AT THE AIRPORT Ch. 3 pt.3

SNOWED IN AT THE AIRPORT
Ch. 3 pt.3


There was no mistaking the disappointment on my face. I guess my karma was up. The fates are fleeting; I will give them that.

What convergence of events had brought us together? Was it fate? Destiny? Coincidence? Circumstance? Or was it something bigger that is just out of our hands?

Over the past three days, I could not help but think that our meeting was somehow meant to be. I guess not. When I was eighteen, I made a deal with God that I would do anything to have one night with Marlene Nakamura. I guess He was in a generous mood; I got three.

Besides, she continued, sensing that I was on the verge of bursting into tears, I have, to slowly prepare my parents for the day when I bring a white guy home.

Both of us let out a nervous chuckle. I pulled her close to me, cherishing the feel of her soft skin against me.

We lay there for a long time. When we could stall no longer, we slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. The two of us took one more indulgent shower together. My hands roamed her body and hers mine.

I tried not to come off as desperate. I savored every curve of her body. I wanted the memory of her touch to stay with me forever.

Eventually, the time came for us to go. I packed everything I had into my backpack and laptop bag. Marlene gathered her things into her carry-on suitcase.

As we walked down the hallway, she surprised me by taking my hand. I wondered if it was out of pity, but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

We checked out of the hotel, then picked up our boarding passes and went through security. An hour later, we were in the air, heading home.

Neither of us spoke much. My hand never left hers. I knew we only had a few more minutes together.

Are you sure I cannot call you this week? I asked, trying not to look like my heart was broken. The plane was about to land. Can I at least buy you dinner one night?

You have bought me more dinners in the past three days than anyone has in the last six months, Marlene said appreciatively I've got your cell why don't we see how things work out.

Very non-committal. My stomach churned. And not because the landing was a little rough.

I walked down the jetway, my laptop bag in one hand, Marlene’s delicate fingers in the other. The silence between us was deafening.

When we approached the security gate, she stepped to the side of the terminal. She tugged on my hand, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back.

We kissed gently. It did not seem like it was "good-bye" but nor was it as passionate as the day before.

With one last resigned sigh, I tried to smile.

Thank you for everything, Devin, she said, not wanting to hurt my feelings anymore.

What was I to expect? She had only asked for no-frills, friends-with-benefits, wild monkey-love sex. It was me who wanted more. Could I really hold that against her?

It was all I could do not to become a pathetic, begging fool right there, but I somehow found my pride and walked out of the terminal with Marlene at my side.

We turned the corner past the security check point, and I immediately saw my parents waving. I smiled and waved back.

I will see you around, Devin, Marlene said softly. She reached out and squeezed my hand, then turned quickly and walked away before I could stop her.

My eyes were fixed on her bouncing ponytail, as she made her way towards the parking garage. She never looked back.

I could not bring myself to move until my folks enveloped me in one of those big parental bear hugs. I blinked away the self-pity and put on my best smile.

Hey, there, son, my father slapped me on the back. Who was your friend? Was that Marlene oh, drat! What was her name?

Marlene Nakamura? She looks great.

Dad prattled on as he tends to do when he is excited.

She is Marlene Koizumi now, I said under my breath.

I cannot believe how long has it been. You used to have the biggest crush on her, he continued to ramble.

My mother took her turn to embrace me. Mom whispered so softly only I could hear. It looks like you still do.

Hey, Devin! Devin Westcott!

My head shot around at the sound of the voice. A man was sitting at a table outside of TGI Friday's and waving. As soon as I recognized him, my face broke into a wide smile. I hopped off the moving walkway, trying not to spill the bottle of water I held in one hand and the triple-mocha de-cafe latte in the other.

He stood and held out his arms. I gave the slightly pudgy and balding man a warm, brotherly hug.

Well, I will be damned! I exclaimed. "Darren Copeland! How the hell are you?"

Look who else is here, he pointed to his companion at the table. I could only laugh.

Save me, Devin, the look in Marlene’s eyes pleaded. Save me or I will kill you.

Can I buy you a beer? he asked, motioning to one of the empty chairs at the table. Darren graduated with us. Like Marlene and I, he was one of our gifted-class brethren. I had kept up with him for a couple of years after graduation, like me, he went into computer programming where he made a bunch of money in the mid-90s then got a job teaching at Georgia Tech. Last I checked, he was assistant dean in the College of Computing. Although we had spoken a couple of times and exchanged emails with reasonable frequency, I had not seen him since graduation, just over nineteen years past.

I half-expected to run into him at our upcoming 20th reunion the next June, but not in an airport somewhere.

No, thanks, I set my things down on the table. If Marlene could not have a drink, she would never forgive me if I had a beer or two.

What are you doing here? Darren asked. He obviously had a couple of lagers in him already.

I am on the way to Ft. Lauderdale, I said. Got a big Caribbean cruise coming up.

Say, Marlene, aren't you going to Ft. Lauderdale, too? our friend slurred. Maybe he was too far gone to put two and two together.

Marlene only gave him a half-amused nod.

Well, here is to you, Devin, Darren raised his half-empty glass of beer and winked. The luckiest game designer on the east coast; that contract was mine¸ you know! And to the prettiest girl in the Class of 1991: Marlene Nakamura.

Westcott, she corrected our drunken companion. Her left hand slipped into mine. Under the sunlight that shone through the windows along the concourse, the diamonds were almost as radiant as my new bride. It is Marlene Westcott now.

I will see you around, Devin, I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I reached out and squeezed his hand as if to say, I am sorry, then turned and walked away.

To be continued