To Jennifer,
My great friend Jennifer is one of those people who just lives a different life than the rest of us. There's always a story, always an adventure. She can go to the supermarket and find a long lost love, or go to the beach and find long lost treasure. She once told me of this chance encounter with a man she met. Followed by more encounters in different cities, ending with a steamy romance. This story is inspired by Jennifer and her never boring life!
- Bonne Hill
***
I first noticed him at the security check. I was in the wrap-around lines, standing like everyone else, holding my shoes in my hands, about to go through the x-ray machines. I glanced at the TSA agent as she waved the wand up and down on a man in a beige colored suit. Something triggered an extra synapse in my memory.
Did I know that man? He looked vaguely familiar, but certainly not someone I knew well. A moment later he was grabbing his shoes and briefcase and he was gone.
I made my way through security, gathered my stuff, put my shoes back on, and headed to the gate. I grabbed a coffee from a kiosk along the way, and found quite a crowd at the gate waiting for my flight. Seems that flights to big cities are always full these days. Airlines have reduced flights as a way of making sure flights are full and maximizing profitability while reducing costs. I don't blame them, but it doesn't make for fun flying.
Like many others, I was relegated to standing while I waited. And also like others, I used the time to make a couple of quick calls and drink my coffee.
The gate attendant began calling rows to board the plane, and the crowd began its slow surge toward the gate.
"We're ready to board Flight 64 to Chicago. All First Class passengers and rows nine through twelve, please come forward. You may now board," crackled the voice on the PA.
My seat was way in the back, so I knew I had some waiting to do. Sipping my coffee, I scanned the crowd. There were lots of commuters, making their way from one city to another for business, just I was doing. This trip was to train HR managers on new benefit options provided by the company I worked for. Yeah, glamorous, eh?
There were a number of vacationing families, as well. A young boy, maybe ten, had energy to burn, and his parents let him burn it as he ran in and out and around the waiting passengers. I watched the boy nearly take down an older man in a business suit reading the paper. Fortunately the man had a wall to help him catch his balance as the boy bumped into his legs.
I chuckled, but my laughter was cut short as I once again saw the mystery man in the beige suit. He had a trim build, slightly athletic, like a runner, and was olive skinned.
My memory was still not clear about who he was, though I was sure I had met the man sometime in the past. But where, and when? Maybe school? Maybe at work? I'd bounced around jobs for a few years until I found a home at a financial firm where I was a part of the account team.
Was he a friend? A former neighbor? I had lived in the same city ever since I graduated college, though moving across town a couple of times. The first move was when I got married. The second when I got divorced. Funny how that happens.
Then it hit me. It was work, but it wasn't my work, it was my ex-husband's work! I was pretty sure it was at one of those dinner or holiday parties I used to go to, hosted by my husband's firm.
Just then my row was called, so grabbed my bag, tossed the little coffee I had left in the trash, and headed for the gate.
I was just about to hand my boarding pass to the young male flight attendant at the gate when the intercom phone buzzed. The attendant answered it, then hung up.
"If you all could just wait for moment, I'll be right back and we'll get you on board," said the young flight attendant as she dashed away to ticketing desk nearby.
It wasn't a big deal, as I could see the passengers in line in the gateway ahead, so it didn't really matter if I waited here or down the gateway. I glanced around, and there, just two passengers behind me, was the man in the olive suit. He was average height, an olive complexion to match his suit, and dark hair, either very dark brown or black.
As I thought back to when I him, several years before, his line of sight crossed mine.
"Hello," I said in my 'friendly' voice.
He looked a bit surprised. "Hello," he responded with a questioning smile.
"I don't know if you remember, but I think you and I met at a holiday party a few years back."
His face twitched a bit, obviously puzzled, but you could tell he was reracking his memory tapes.
"I am pretty sure it was a Stearns and Johnson Accounting dinner," I said.
The man's face lit up. "Yes, that sounds right. My wife works there. Well, ex-wife. Christmas party, maybe?"
"Yes, I think we sat at the same table." It was coming back to me piece by piece.
"Wow, you've got a great memory." His smile was big and bright, very different from his look just moments before. He didn't have a scowl before, but he had definitely had been sporting a serious look on his face.
"Do you still work there?" he asked.
"No, my husband did. Ex-husband."
"We're ready to start boarding again," announced the flight attendant on the PA.
"Nice seeing you," I said hurriedly, and turned to make my way on the plane.
The flight was pretty uneventful. I used the time to go over notes that I would use at my workshop. The one time I got up to stretch a little, I saw my acquaintance several rows back, stuck in the middle seat. I felt sorry for him. I feel sorry for anyone in the middle seat.
At the holiday party where the man in the beige suit and I first met, we didn't say much more than the required pleasantries. Office holiday parties can be awkward. Without spouses, office parties get crazy, but spouse-invited parties tend to be boring.
I remember thinking he was handsome, and that he and his wife seemed a bit of an odd match. What I couldn't remember was his name.
We landed on time and deplaned. Though I had my garment bag with me, I had a checked a bag which had all my handouts, so I'd have to go to baggage claim. O'Hare is always busy, and there's always a risk of bags getting lost, but our company's policy was to fly in a day early, just in case a flight was delayed or luggage was lost. So I headed down the long walk toward baggage claim.
Just then the man in the beige suit came walking by, chatting busily on his cell phone. He glanced over and saw me, and slowed his noticeably quick stride. I couldn't help but notice that he had just spent a couple of hours on a flight, but still looked pretty sharp, unlike many of the business men with wrinkled suits and baggy trousers.
I heard him sign off from his call. He then turned to me. "You're here on business, I assume?"
"I am. I'm here once a quarter for a few days." I paused for a moment, then, continued, "I'm Karen, by the way. I was Karen Stinson back when we first met, but now back to my maiden name, Mills."
"Hi Karen, I'm Tom, Tom Rivera. Was Rivera, still am Rivera. Nice to meet you-again."
As we neared the end of the long walk, I looked up at the large electronic board with baggage information.
"Do you have any bags?" I asked.
"No, carried mine on. Just doing a quick overnighter and back home."
"Well, it was nice to see you again," I said. "I hope you have a good day in Chicago."
