Chapter 13
JFK – March 1973
"There's no way it's 40 degrees out there!" Angela said shaking and slightly bending over between gasps of air, as the automatic doors of the airport shut behind them.
"It's the wind chill," Brian puffed out. "It messes with your mind." He rubbed his hands together, and blew hot air into his fists. He looked down at her, steady. "…like you do to me. You are a squall, in and of yourself, Angela. I was not prepared for you."
Again, Angela was arrested by his frankness. With her staring up at his serious face, he took the opportunity to answer Angela's slightly open mouth. She found herself with her arms around his head and his back, still on the mat by the automatic doors. The movement caused the doors to open and shut, allowing in a blast of cold air each time. She shivered, and laughing, they pulled their huddle more inside.
"Would you like some warm food?" Brian asked with his bent elbow extended to her.
"That sounds lovely. Let's just check in first."
"Good idea." They grabbed the handles to their suitcases, and hobbled to the front desk.
As soon as the bags were on the conveyer belt, Angela tucked in close to Brian's arm, and felt a warm energy meet her. They walked to the restaurant, and by this time, she was just a little bit chilly. But she clung to Brian's arm, nonetheless. They were shown to their booth, and Angela felt a noticeably lonely when she had to let go of him to slide in. She was relieved when his hand grasped hers from across the table.
The waiter came by, and they each ordered a glass of the house red wine and a tomato basil bisque. When the food came, Angela almost didn't want the soup to make her warm.
Fortunately, her meal and her thoughts were interrupted by an explosion of sensation down by her ankles. Brian had apparently rid himself of his shoe, and his stockinged foot was sliding up and down her lower calf. I don't know what this is, but I really like it! Angela took a healthy swig of wine, and returned the favor.
They stared intently at each other for a span of several minutes, speckled with intermittent closed eyes and coy smiles.
"Angela, your fathomless eyes are a vault of treasure. When they shut, I see they're open." When he spoke, Angela stopped cold and stared, listening attentively to his every word. He's serious. Brian takes me seriously. All of me. She put down her spoon, and scooted around until her hip touched his.
With a slight smile borne entirely of curiosity, Angela looked at him closely. His eyes. His neck. His mustache. His chin. His lips. She couldn't stop looking at him. She couldn't help but finger the soft, blonde waves, curling at his neckline. She couldn't help the spell-binding effect his intense brown eyes had on her. She felt like she was in the 2nd grade, when the cool girls wanted to play with her. She felt like she was sitting by the lake at camp, when a tan and confident boy came up and asked if she wanted to meet at the Rock. She felt like she was at the top of the stairs in her ballgown, when she looked down at Greg's magnificent smile. She felt chosen, and she smiled dreamily at Brian.
Brian leaned in, and whispered softly by her ear. "Have you always been this enrapturing, or did you sprout wings just for me?" Angela froze. As much as she was enjoying his proximity, she wasn't enjoying how close he was to the truth. Brain noticed her change in demeanor, and sat back a little to look at her face. "What is it?"
"Oh, um…actually, I've, uh…not spent a great deal of time…uh…enrapturing people," Angela managed to get out through a thoroughly dry mouth. She chugged another gulp of wine. "I've been busy, ya know, and…"
"So, my angel was sent just for me," he said gravelly, and kissed her below her ear. Again, her breath caught, her eyes closed, but her mouth just couldn't. In between kisses down and up her neck, he spoke softly. "India Ink stained…Heart kneeling…Fragment structure…Lamplight dust."
Angela regained consciousness enough to pull back, and look in his eyes. "Did you write that?" Brian nodded.
"Just now? For me?" He nodded again.
Astonished, Angela kept going. "I get it - how we work so hard, and how the collective broken pieces of our failures are themselves significant, and we should keep going."
Brian breathed out sharply, "You understand my poem?" He shook his head. "No one ever gets my poetry!"
"It's as clear to me as how much I want to be with you," Angela said.
"You should be the poet," Brian grinned.
Angela shook her head. "I prefer to be the muse."
She sprung forward, raking both hands through the back of his hair and kissed him deeply.
Slowly, Angela brushed her fingers down the sides of Brian's face, with her elbows in close to his chest. "I'm so glad I'm here with you."
"I'm glad there were seats available," Brian said smiling.
"You don't want me on your lap for 5 hours?" Angela asked with the steadiness of Billy the Kid.
Brian laughed. "You win."
"Not to worry; you will, too," Angela side-smiled, and scooted back over to her side of the table. Brian emptied the rest of his wine glass without a breath.
They finished their soup, often glancing up at each other with a little laugh.
"I'm going to run to the ladies' room. Would you please watch my carry-on?"
"Of course. But fly like Mercury, my angel, as I'll be all alone." Angela's head tipped to one side as she placed her hand over her heart, then she scuttled to the bathroom.
It took her a bit to find one, but up on the next level, she found it. Though she wasn't sure why - since flying was a 24 hour-a-day operation - there weren't many people running around the airport in the middle of the night. She was the only one in there, and after she'd used the bathroom and washed her hands, she reapplied her makeup. I guess 2am is past the makeup's warranty. …But not mine! She squealed and ran in place quickly, before she surprised herself with an impressive air-punching finale. Breathing out softly through her mouth, Angela readjusted her dress, smoothed her hair, and walked demurely out of the restroom. Hmm. Angela looked at her watch. That was probably close to 25 minutes. Oops! So much for winged feet.
She walked out to the promenade overlooking the restaurant, and looked down. She saw Brian from the distance, and called to him. He didn't turn around. Angela's brows dipped, and tried his name again. He walked away. Angela started breathing heavily. How could he not hear me? It's not that far, was it? Is he done with me now? She keenly watched each stair as she scurried down them in her white leather pumps. I offer him myself, and he's not interested? Her breathing quickened. Like Greg. …No. Wait. Brian's not like Greg. He's very interested in me. Angela arrived at the main floor, and looked around. In the time it took her to get down, Brian had disappeared.
She went back in the restaurant, and the bags were gone. She stood confused and frowning with her hands on her hips. Suddenly, her eyebrows lifted. …My camera was in my bag. …Stop it, Angela. That's stupid. She asked the waiter, but he hadn't seen where Brian had gone, either.
Angela left the restaurant and looked all around. She started to walk. She kept walking. She looked up and down, everywhere, in the area. Her feet were swollen and hurting, and she knew the sweat she felt between her shoulder blades was not primarily the result of the exercise. Angela felt tears overwhelming her lids, and choked out a sob.
"Angela?"
Angela spun around to see Brian trotting up to her. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you," he said, concerned.
Angela didn't say anything. She just walked right into his shoulder, and cried. Brian held her snugly, with his chin rested on the top of her tucked head. "What is it?" he asked, worried. She said nothing, just held him tighter. After a minute, Angela took a deep breath and sniffed as she stepped back.
She looked up at him, and spoke quietly, "I thought you didn't want me to go with you anymore."
"Definitely not. When you were gone so long, I went looking for you."
"But I saw you, and called your name," she insisted.
"I didn't hear you. I've traversed the entire terminal looking for you. I even tried to enlist the help of some monks, but they didn't understand my description of you. I was in such a state, I can't remember how I described you, but it was some of my best work. I wish I had written it down..."
"Brian," Angela interrupted. "Thank you for looking for me."
"Of course! My heart has been constricted since you left," he said, earnestly. Angela smiled, and held a tight hold on his hand as they walked to their gate.
I don't want to lose him again.
