Just Look Forward
Beth Jones
I made the first move. I'm sitting here on a plane back to Boston next to Woody, mentally kicking my own ass for making the first move. I'm such a dumb ass sometimes. I mean what the hell was I thinking!? I mean besides that he's sweet, a cop, attractive, gentlemanly, kind-hearted, trustworthy, and near drowning in adoration of me? And see now therein lies the problem…HE'S the one that's been on the offensive up until the other night in the desert. So how did I end up kissing HIM!? Huh?! Too bad I can't play "the game" with Dad to figure this one out. I'm sitting here going over my mental unnecessarily slow play-by-play of the discussion we had in the desert.
He'd given me his jacket first of all and that's usually my deciding factor on how far I'll let a guy go that night if I'm feeling generous. I think my final decision was made when he told me that the 'I was a little fat kid from Wisconsin' story. He upped his cute and vulnerable puppy dog appeal by about 75% with that one. I glance sideways at him from my safely buckled position in first class. Look at him reading that LA Times and looking all innocent. I know your game Woodrow Hoyt…I see right through that big country grin and those sexy, hooded baby blues…Okay, take it easy Jordan think about something else
remember..Walls..strong…reinforced…well - built emotional walls. That's what your good at.
As if the little sneak has crawled inside my head and took a glance around, Woody takes this opportunity to gently crease his paper and place it back in the seat pocket.
"I'm bored." He says with a huff and flops his seat into a reclining position, boyishly stretching his hands back and intertwining them behind his head.
Suddenly his expression changes from boredom to curiosity as he brings one hand forward so he can see it and slowly opens his hand in front of his face. When he does so, a small green crayon sits out of place in the palm of his hand. I glance from the crayon to Woody and back to the crayon. Woody shrugs his shoulders at me and looks upside-down over the headrest of his seat. A boy of about 6 sits in the chair behind him, his ankles just resting on the edge of the large first class seat. The elderly woman next to him is quietly dozing. I watch as Woody smiled at the boy and the boy whispers in response.
"You could borrow my coloring book if you want, it helps me stay un-bored when I go on long trips." Woody looks at me then smiles politely at the boy.
15 minutes later, I'm still sitting with a little boy between Woody and myself as he and his 28 year-old coloring buddy, try to stay in the lines despite the mild turbulence.
"So whatta ya do?" the boy asks barely able to give the question the time to exit his mouth before he returns to his coloring.
"What do I do? You mean what's my job?" Woody asked and I couldn't help but chuckle at how he spoke to the boy if he was merely another adult on the plane. The boy just nodded.
"I'm a detective, like a cop but without the uniform." Woody said still engulfed in his drawing. The boy, who was obviously on a much higher emotional level than most children his age, put down his crayon and turned to Woody.
"So, you're a cop. And your name is Woody? Like the SHERIFF…in Toy Story?" I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.
Woody looked up at me and I heard everything from his eyes that his mouth couldn't say in front of the boy. He looked back down at him and smiled. "Uh-huh." "So is she your girlfriend?" The little man trapped in a 6 year-old's body asked with a poke into the air towards me with a crayon. Woody looks at me and smirks.
"Nope." He says proudly. 'oh that's right farm boy, keep pretending like you don't care.' I cross my arms in front of me.
"How come?" The boy asks. He leans towards Woody and whispers, "She's reeeeaaaaaalllll pretty." He says hushed and looks at me with a smile.
"Oh and don't I know it!" Woody says and I curse the flush I feel creeping up to my cheeks. "but you see son, Jordan here has something you'll probably come to understand in some women one day called an 'intimacy issue'. " he says accenting the stupid, yuppie, pop-psychology word I despise so much.
"What's that?" the boy says narrowing his eyes and me in a way that suggests he thinks it might be contagious.
"Well," Woody says seriously and looks over the child's head into my eyes. "It means that..she's had a lot of bad experiences with guys..and when she finds a dashingly handsome, oh so charming, gentle, naive country bumpkin as myself well, she gets afraid that he might let her down…you know like disappoint her…just cause all the other guys in her life have at one time or another." The boy thought about it for a second. I could tell he was trying to find a word in there that he understood.
"She gets afraid?" he asked. Woody just continued to stare into my eyes.
"Yeah. Silly huh?" he asked glancing down at the boy momentarily. The boy continued to color but thought for a moment.
"Well, it's not silly. I get afraid sometimes." Woody regarded the boy thoughtfully,
"Well, this is a whole different kind of afraid pal." Woody said rustling the boy's hair.
"Well, you know what? My dad is a pilot…and you know what? He flies planes. But not big ones like this, he flies little ones. We live on Nantucket he just flies back and forth from Boston mostly. And you know what?" Woody smiled and I turned in my seat to better listen to our talkative little companion. "Sometimes I got up in the planes with my dad, and I used to be really scared." Woody continued to look over the little guy's head at me.
"So how'd you get to be such a good little flyer then?" I asked bending my head partly to avoid Woody and partly to listen to the kid.
"Well, see I always used to look out the back windows at the rudder and I used to get upset when it moved cause this one time when I was with my dad I watched the rudder and it stopped working. We had to crash in this big field. I broke my arm and my dad got a concusss….con..concuss…….he hurt his head. I didn't wanna go in the planes anymore cause I thought it was gonna happen again. But my dad told me that if I at least tried and maybe sat up front and just looked forward instead of back at the rudder, and then maybe I wouldn't be scared anymore. And I'm not so much anymore. I still know that the rudder is there but there's a lot of pretty cool stuff to see up front and I wouldn't get to see it if I never went back in an airplane. I get scared of other stuff to though…but not planes anymore."
It was at this point that I looked up and Woody was smiling happily at me. I smiled back. Then the boy's grandmother interrupted the moment we were sharing.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I must have nodded off! He hasn't been a bother to you has he?" the old woman asked beckoning the child back to his seat.
"He was a delight, don't worry ma'am he's a smart little fella. Very entertaining." Woody said handing the kid his coloring book back.
"Thank the nice people for keeping you busy Max." the woman said chuckling. Jordan and I looked at each other. Max thanked us.
"And thank you Max." I said smiling at the boy who had helped me more than any therapy I'd ever spent hundreds of dollars on before.
"Ladies and Gentlemen this is your Captain. We should be approaching Boston's Logan Airport in the next few minutes or so. If you'll notice I'm now activating your fasten seatbelts signs and I'll ask you to put your seats up and lock your trays into position." Woody sat his seat up and turned his head to look at me. I smiled and he smiled back. It wasn't a friendly smile though. We were making a silent agreement.
"Woody…I know that I said I think this is a bad idea..but…"I didn't finish. Woody leaned over the armrest and took my cheek with one hand. He gently pulled my mouth to his and kissed me more tenderly than I have ever been kissed. I didn't close my eyes and neither did Woody. That's how I knew that we had something special. When he pulled back only a few inches, I smiled. Then I finished my sentence.
"I think I changed my mind." Woody chuckled and nodded, his hand still cupping my face, and stroked his thumb along my cheekbone.
" I knew you'd come around eventually…"he said with a narcissistic tone and tossed his head to the side and running a hand through his hair. I leaned back a little crossed my arms and gave him my best "Oh really?" look. Woody continued.
"I mean…what with my sweet country charm and boyish good looks, it was only a matter of time before you weakened under the pressure my irresistible charm." I knew he was waiting for me to deliver my typical smart ass remark, so instead I decided to stick with the atypical mood of the day and instead of my usual verbal bashing, I leaned forward, kissed that smug look off his face and said,
"Yeah I guess so." I said and pulled his lips back to mine by pulling his tie towards me.
We kissed again just as the plane was making its final descent. I can't be sure if it was the kiss or the air pressure that made me dizzy. I guess it could have been a little of both. When we were finally aloud to leave the plane, we walked through the terminal together firmly holding hands. We headed towards the baggage claim and as we stood there, I leaned against Woody my arms around his waist loosely. I laid my head against his chest and he kissed my hair, leaving his chin lying gently on my head. Over the intercom the monotone voice of an airport employee announced that our baggage would be about another 15 minutes or so do to back ups. Many people groaned. I sighed heavily and turned my head to look up into Woody's face.
"Oh shucks Wood, whadda ya think we could find to do to kill time till our bags get here?" I said mock perplexed. Woody scratched his chin and looked quizzically up at the ceiling.
"Hmmmm….I don't know…..What to DO." He said rubbing his hand slowly up and down my back.
"Come here farm boy." I said smiling in our newfound comfort. I kissed him slowly and he kissed equally slow back. Suddenly, a voice behind us asked if we wanted them to go catch our bags or if we were setting up a sting operation to catch airport thieves. I turned my head slowly, a slight grimace on my face as I already recognized the voice of my dad. Woody turned as well and his voice cracked adorably as he straightened his tie and said hello to my dad. "Ummm….h….hi…Max…err….Mr. Cavanaugh." Woody said as a flush crept rapidly up his cheeks. My dad never missed a beat.
"Max is still fine son….just because you're apparently involved with my daughter now doesn't mean you have to go formal on me." He said laying a hand on Woody's shoulder as he leaned forward to kiss me on the cheek.
"Hi sweetie did I leave you waiting long?" he asked and walked over to the retrieve our bags off the baggage claim belt. Woody looked exasperated at me. "You KNEW he was probably in here?" Woody asked smiling and poked me in the shoulder with his index finger. In mock innocence, I just shrugged my shoulders and started to walk away towards my dad. Woody followed and grabbed his bag off the belt then handed my bag to Dad.
"Okay, are we all set?" Dad asked turning to face Woody and me. Woody was already standing beside me, one arm around my shoulders. I could tell dad was taking this opportunity to take in the picture of us together. We nodded in unison. Dad started to walk a little ahead of us and I tugged Woody by the hand to catch up to Dad. When I was between the two of them I took Dad's free hand with mine and gave Woody's a little squeeze as I continued to hold it with my other hand. Dad turned his head a little towards me and smiled appreciatively. I didn't catch it, but he also winked at Woody who smiled back appreciatively.
"How bout I buy you kids a drink at the Pogue?" he asked as we made our way slowly through the unusually empty airport.
"Sure Dad, that sounds great." Woody said testing the waters. There was a moment of silence then Dad said,
"Don't call me Dad, Hoyt." Woody quickly followed with a meek,
"Yes sir." I chuckled as we continued through the terminal still hand-in-hand.