Twice Now...

He looked up at the board and sighed again. They say a watched pot never boils; so too unfortunately true does the notion also apply to the arrival/departure board at Logan International Airport. No amount of staring, wishing, or attempted Jedi mind-tricking was going to cause the bright red, all capped "CANCELLED," boldly printed beside American Airlines Flight 1553, to change. Had he known better, he wouldn't have made the trip to Boston in the first place, despite how much he loved his friends and so desperately wanted to attend their makeshift reunion. For better or for worse, he wasn't generally one to 'know better' in any circumstance as of late.

 

His life had changed a great deal in the last several years, and in some ways he'd become the opposite extreme of his formerly conservative, moderate, and overly cautious-in-all-things self. He'd learned that life was too short and embraced his chances as they came. It wasn't as if he simply threw caution to the wind, mind you, but checking the weather report before deciding to fly to Boston probably would have been prudent. Conditions were ideal on the way in and for the entire duration of his short trip. It was departure day, however, when Mother Nature decided to unleash her fury on New England. He chuckled at that thought and imagined it was God's punishment for the Patriots' most recent cheating scandal. 

 

Still, ever the optimist, he'd envisioned a scenario whereby he'd board his plane and they'd somehow take off just ahead of the storm. It almost happened, and would have, had the aircraft that would have carried him home not been delayed in Denver. Too much time passed, however, and the snow arrived in Beantown before the plane that was to carry him home ever lifted off from Colorado. So there he sat, waiting. It wasn't even as if he could go back to his friends'; the rest of them had driven in from other parts of New England and were already gone. Not one of them actually lived in Boston. They'd only agreed to meet there for the sake of convenience. Oh, the irony.

 

Jameson settled into the uncomfortable airport bench as best he could, put his headphones in, and cranked up some Zac Brown Band. For a short while he closed his eyes, but the bustle and din of the busy airport terminal deep-sixed any notion of sleep. Until the iPad that sat plugged in beside him was sufficiently charged he couldn't watch a movie, either. In the interim, Jameson decided to pass the time by flipping through the 1,567 photos he still inexplicably had stored on his phone.

 

Here and there he'd delete pictures of an old girlfriend or the random, accidental shots of his knee or the ground that he'd snapped off while putting the device back in his pocket. A few pictures made him laugh, most made him smile, and all represented a moment of his life like a miniature, photographic time capsule. There were a few he came across though, that made him smile a little more broadly and remember a bit more fondly. The photos he was now viewing fell into that category.

 

It had been a perfect day in August, ideal for a summer, country concert. Not having originally planned on attending, Jameson had won tickets and thought "what the hell, why not?" He grabbed a friend, threw the top down on the Jeep, and off they went. Who know the best part of the show would be the parking lot.

 

No sooner had Jameson parked his Jeep in the dusty field of drunken revelry when another ragtop Wrangler pulled in right beside him. The general bond between Jeepers was a strong one to begin with; that their Jeeps were parked right beside one another in a sea of jacked up pick-ups made their connection a little more special. The fact that the two women that hopped out of that neighboring Wrangler were beautiful, witty, and shared an affinity for Fireball Whiskey? Well, that just made the day.

 

For the next several hours they played drinking games with other tailgaters, laughed, sang, drank, and flirted. Jameson would learn that the women were sisters, there enjoying a last bit of fun before one of them was moving away out of state. Dana, the unmarried one of the pair, unfortunately already lived elsewhere, and had only driven in for the week's visit. The concert was the sisters' last full night together before she headed back home to Maine and her sister Diane and her family moved down to Texas. It was just his luck. He'd been on the dating sites and frankly hadn't been all that impressed with the women he'd met. Some lied about their age; others lied about smoking; with the others he'd simply had no chemistry. Dana? Dana was the kind of girl that made him smile just by being herself. If they'd lived closer to each other, and had more time to get to know one another, Jameson thought that just maybe….

 

It wasn't in the stars, a fact he knew all too well, so he simply made the most of the evening; and it was a great evening.  One can never predict how or when friendships will be forged. For Jameson and Diane, it was late after the concert as they sat in Dana's Jeep and belted out their mutual, favorite song together in a drunken duet under the stars. With Dana, though, it was the whole experience; chatting, laughing, flirting and just plain having fun. At some point Dana had stolen his cowboy hat and taken a selfie that she later posted to Facebook. He only knew that because, though their time together was short, it had been sufficient to forge enough of a connection to warrant a social media friendship at the least. He'd discover the photo a few days later. Initially, when the concert was over and he watched her drive away that night, he regretted not trying to steal at least one kiss before she walked out of his life.

 

Jameson laughed out loud with such fervor that he had to clap his hand across his mouth to avoid disconcerting stares in the airport. As he looked through the photos of that evening and thought of Dana, Zac Brown's "Fallin' in Love as She's Walkin' Away" came blaring through his headphones with ironic appropriateness. No, Jameson hadn't fallen in love with Dana that evening; they barely got to know each other. Still, the song's sentiment rang true. For Jameson it was more the what-if prospect that affected him. No, in hindsight, he was glad he hadn't tried to kiss her that night. The possible rejection he might have faced would have tainted an otherwise incredible evening. It might have been even worse had she accepted his kiss warmly, knowing that their embrace under the stars that evening would likely have been their one and only.

 

For the next six months they'd chat here and there through Facebook, making his decision not to tempt fate that night all the more poignant. Without the specter of drunken passion looming over them, they'd been able to develop a genuine friendship, free from the shackles of romantic uncertainty. Of course they'd continue to flirt now and again, flattering one another and letting each other know that a flame, however small and distant, still smoldered. They'd shared laughs, and even some deeper conversations than Jameson thought either of them would have anticipated, but in the end they still talked in some fashion on a fairly regular basis. Jameson was content with that. The concert night they shared was a bright spot in an otherwise dreary stretch of time for him. Remembering it, and having Dana as a continuing part of his life, made him happy.

 

He sat there, slightly embarrassed, as he could feel his cheeks tighten and flush just thinking about her. Lost in her memory and his music, he hadn't heard someone calling his name and was blissfully unaware of another's presence until she poked him in the shoulder. Quickly he pulled the headphones from his ears and turned to see who'd disturbed him. His breath left him when he did.

 

"Dana?" he replied incredulously. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be, but it was. Dana stood in front of him, looking every bit as adorable in her white North Face jacket and powder blue knit hat as he remembered her looking in a pair of cowboy boots and cutoff jeans.

 

"Hi!" she said simply. Her smile was infectious and stole his words. All he could do was stare. When his trance finally released him, he stood and hugged her tightly. "I can't believe it! What are you doing here?" he asked.

 

"I was down in Texas visiting Diane, just on my way back and I got stuck. I can't believe you're here! The better question is what are you doing here?"

 

"I met some old friends in Boston for the weekend. I was on my way back and got stuck too!"

 

They stood facing one another with childish grins on their faces. Fate, it seemed, wasn't done with this pair quite yet. Once the awkwardness had passed, they decided to finally have that dinner together they'd always talked about. It certainly wasn't how they'd planned it, but it was a welcome encounter just the same. They dined, shared some wine, and talked for hours. They didn't just talk, mind you, they shared. They shared of themselves, their lives, their thoughts, desires and memories. It was the kind of dialogue Norah Ephron might have written and with which Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan would have performed so convincingly. The whole scenario, from their chance meeting in a summer field, to their distant friendship, and now this, was comfortingly overwhelming.

 

With no change in the status of either of their flights, Jameson and Dana found some unoccupied seating in a terminal lounge and settled in beside one another. Sharing his earbuds, one in each of their respective ears, they snuggled close and listened to the music that had brought them together so many months prior. Eventually Dana drifted off to sleep, resting her head on Jameson's right shoulder and her right hand on his atop his right thigh. When he moved his arm and wrapped it around her, she slid even closer. In her unconscious state, she'd lifted her hand and rested on his chest over his heart. Jameson placed his free hand over hers and let the enticing lure of slumber overtake him as well. The music had long since ended before he awoke again. Much to his chagrin, though his flight was still listed as cancelled, hers had been reassigned and would be departing in a half hours' time.

 

"Dana," he whispered softly. She stirred, looked up and grinned.

 

"Hi. I fell asleep," she remarked, stating the obvious in such an adorable manner that Jameson couldn't help but giggle.

 

"You sure did," he replied. "And you woke up just in time." Jameson nodded up to the departure board. Dana turned her attention and, like Jameson, was almost disappointed to see that her flight had been rescheduled.

 

"Well, I guess I better get my things together," she said dejectedly. They stood, stretched, and Jameson helped her with her bags. Her flight was leaving from anther terminal and they had just enough time to walk there together. Neither was sure at what point in their stroll that it happened, but when they reached her gate their hands had joined and their fingers intertwined.

 

"I'm so glad I got to see you," she whispered in his ear as she held him tightly.

 

"Safe travels. Text me when you get home, okay?" he said protectively. She nodded to indicate that she would.

 

"Bye, Jameson." With a wave she turned and entered the boarding line.

 

He waved back, spun on his heels, and began to walk away. He got all of ten steps away before he stopped. "Fuck it," he murmured to himself. "Dana!" he called out as he ran back to her. Dana turned at the sound of his voice. She was just about to hand the attendant her ticket. Jameson pulled her aside and gazed into her eyes. "I need to know," he told her.

 

"Know what?" she asked, her eyes locked on his.

 

Jameson lifted his hand and brushed from her face the strands of hair that poked out from beneath her knit cap. His fingers traced the line of her cheek, and he couldn't take it any longer.  Numbness washed over him as he leaned forward, closed his eyes, and placed his lips against hers. For a moment they lingered like that, before they parted and found each other again and again. Dana grabbed a handful of his jacket at his waist with one hand, and slid her other under his arm and pulled his shoulder towards her. He cupped her face with both hands now, and the mutual sensation of their lips and tongues meeting at last swept them both away. It was only the interrupting cough of the ticket taker that pried them apart.

 

Jameson leaned in, the tip of his nose just touching the tip of hers. "I needed to know what that felt like," he whispered. "I needed to know."

 

Dana blushed, but refused to speak for fear that nothing she'd say would be worthy of the moment they'd just shared. She didn't need to. The look in her eyes as she backed away from him said everything. Dana held his hand as long as she could until their fingers could stretch no farther. She held those same fingers to her lips as she made her way down the boarding ramp, and then disappeared around the bend. Jameson hung his head and grinned. His cheeks, like they'd been all afternoon, were still flushed and tight.

 

He had no idea where that kiss would take them, if anywhere at all, but he knew he couldn't pass up the opportunity to feel her lips on his. Not again. Not this time. Jameson was also confident that, to the extent it had any effect on their relationship at all; it would be a positive one. Twice now they'd shared a chance encounter, and twice now he'd watch her walk away into his memory. Twice now he'd felt the warmth she'd brought to his heart, and twice now he'd basked in the splendid shine of her smile. If the tree of their relationship bore no more fruit than that, he would be nothing less than content.

 

Jameson returned his earbuds to his ears, and this time there was nothing ironic about the song that played. The lyrics filled his soul as he made his way back to his terminal to await his flight, which had just been rescheduled.

 

"When a goodbye kiss, feels like this…."

 

 

© 2015 J. J. Goodman. All rights reserved.