Strangers On A Plane 1

I could not wait to get home. It had been the trip from hell. We had spent the weekend in New York City—arguably the most exciting city in the world and all my fiancé could come up with to do was sit in a sports bar and watch "the game." He could do that at home. This fun weekend for us had turned out to be anything but.

I made my way down the aisle of the plane where, of course, I would be stuck in the middle seat so John could stretch out. I understood, he was six-two and weighed 210 pounds. I weighed half that, but he would be asleep and not confine himself to his seat. I would not verbalize it yet, but this trip had given me much to think about.

We settled in—so far the window seat was empty. A little space (even just one seat between us) would do us both some good right now. John leaned in for a smooch. I could taste the beer he had been drinking all day. I know it was vacation, but a little self-restraint would not have killed him. He was making himself comfortable—all stretched out in his sweats. Was that really necessary for the three hour flight home to Miami? Could he not have just worn jeans and not looked like he was headed to the gym? We're 25, not 16. I knew I was looking for a fight after a miserable weekend. I decided to keep my mouth shut and hope he fell asleep.

The parade of fellow passengers continued by. Sadly, more than a few were dressed like John. I will never understand the lack of pride some people take in their appearance. I guess I am a bit old-fashioned, but certain things in society have just been lost that should not have been.

Unfortunately, a man tapped John on the shoulder to be let in to the window seat-although, he seemed like a perfectly acceptable person to sit by. Actually, he looked very distinguished. He had on a navy blazer and grey flannel trousers, a blue shirt with a silvery-grey ascot type of scarf tucked inside it. On most men, it would look ridiculous, but on him it seemed just the right touch to complement his thick silver hair and mustache. He made his way to his seat, I returned to mine, and John resumed his position stretched out over half of my seat.

Shortly after takeoff, John was out cold. I am sure a day of drinking beer contributed. I was both annoyed and relieved...until he started loudly snoring. Then, I was mostly annoyed.

After a few minutes when I was visibly upset, the gentleman next to me said, "Wow, he is loud. But don't worry, dear. It does not reflect on you." I laughed nervously, but it was the perfect icebreaker.

"I know. It has been a long weekend. I am afraid it will cause me to reevaluate a few things."

"Do not blow things out of proportion. I was married a long time until my wife passed away. You have to learn to overlook certain things. I am sure my Sarah did. I'm Max, by the way."

"I'm Annie. Thank you for the advice and not holding it against me, but this display is the last straw for me. It is merely the cherry on a perfectly miserable sundae of a weekend from hell."

"That is quite the description. If you don't mind my prying, what was so bad?" he politely asked. Then, he added, "I don't think your sleeping beauty over there will notice if you share. Nothing can stir him from that slumber," he smiled. I could not help but notice a certain twinkle in his blue eyes.

Fighting back tears, I started, "This was supposed to be a fun getaway for the long weekend. I cashed in all the miles I had earned traveling for work for our flights and three nights at a fancy boutique hotel in midtown. When we got here, all Michael wanted to do was sit in a sports bar. I went to the museums, shopping, the Statue of Liberty, and even a Broadway show alone. I knew he had a selfish streak, but this was almost too much to bear."

"I wish I had some wise words of wisdom, but it sounds like childish and immature behavior on his part, dear Annie." He was so kind and supportive. He heard my entire story—all the problems of our relationship—while Michael snored next to me oblivious to both me and his surroundings. Max also shared his story. He was 63 and retired. He said he had been lucky in his career and in the right place at the right time. He was able to retire when he was 50 and he and his wife divided their time between places in New York and Miami until she passed away from colon cancer three years ago. His sadness was palpable, but we both seemed to enjoy an easy conversation about very difficult subjects for both of us: his loss of his wife and my uneasiness about the future of my relationship. Just before we landed, he handed me his card and said, "If you need to talk, I am happy to listen. Just know that whatever happens, you will be okay." I squeezed his knee and then proceeded to wake Michael.

I hate to admit it, but it was a couple of days before I got around to sorting the laundry from the trip. When I came across Max's card, I could not bring myself to throw it away. Instead, I just put it with the others in my briefcase. Being home had not made things better. I knew what I had to do, but it did not make it easier to execute the necessary plan. I could not help myself, by midmorning the next day at the office, I pulled out Max's card and dialed the number.

"Hello, this is Max."

His voice seemed so welcoming and warm. For some reason, I got nervous and was almost unable to talk. After what seemed like minutes but was really just a couple of seconds, I pulled myself together and said, "Hi Max. You may not remember me, but this is Annie from the flight back from New York on Sunday. I was just calling because I thought if you really were interested in listening, I would love to talk. " I was talking so fast, I am not even sure what I said was decipherable.

"Annie, of course I remember you. And, of course, I would love to talk and help in any way I can. What's going on?" He was so nice. I had to calm myself down.

"Well, at the moment, I am at work and don't really feel like I can get into it all on the phone. Is there any chance we could meet for lunch one day this week?"

"Of course we can. I would be happy to take you to lunch. In what part of town are you working?"

"I actually am on an audit assignment in Miami Beach at the moment. It's very convenient, since our little apartment is over here as well." I was still rambling. I don't know why I was so nervous.

"I tell you what, there is a steakhouse on the water that I really like just off Alton. They do a nice lunch. Can you get away for a lunch today? You seem like you need to talk this through."

"Max, I can't ask you to rearrange your schedule on such short notice. I am sure you have many more important things to deal with than my problems."

"You did not ask. I offered. And, I am not rearranging anything. I really had no concrete plans for today. It is both the blessing and the curse of retirement."

"Fine. I will meet you there, but it is on me."

"We will cross the matter of the check when we get to it. I will see you there. I will call the maitre' d and see if he can work us in at 12:30. I assume this is a number I can reach you if anything changes."

"Yes, I called on my cell. You now have my number, too."

I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. Even though it was Miami, I still dressed in appropriate business attire for work—albeit in brighter colors rather than basic black, grey, or navy. I was wearing my favorite pale pink skirt with my one splurge item last year—a pink tweed lightweight Chanel jacket that I found at a vintage clothing store in Palm Beach. I accessorized with a pearl necklace and earrings and a pair of gold heels that accentuated the buttons on the jacket.

"Annie, darling, you look beautiful," said Max as he approached.

"You don't look so bad yourself. He was wearing crisp white pants, a red/white/and blue plaid shirt, and a navy blazer. He actually looked incredibly handsome.

"Well, I guess I don't do so badly for an old guy," he smiled and blushed slightly.

"You do fine for any age." We were almost flirting. The hostess showed us to our table by the window. It was truly a lovely environment.

"So you said you live nearby?" Clearly, he was trying to make small talk. It was sweet that I had drug him here, but he was willing to let me take my time to get to my issues.

"I do. I just live a couple of blocks North of here. I run through the park here all the time."

He smiled. "I live in the high rise just over there when I am in Florida. We are practically neighbors. I am here a couple of times a week. That is why I get the rock star treatment. They know I'm a good customer."

We both ordered salads and iced tea and I finally got into my issues. "I have known things were not going well with Michael for a while. We met in college. He was always so fun." I hesitated. "We both were." He looked at me with a knowing smile. "But, we graduated, both got jobs, and I grew up. He has not. I have been promoted twice. Michael has been let go once. I swear the only reason he asked me to marry him is so he could have a bachelor weekend in Vegas. I am still not sure why I said yes." Max gave me a comforting pat on the hand.

"My dear, I know you think this is terrible. And I don't want to understate it, it is. But you need to be grateful that you realize this now—before you are married to him. Too many people do not figure it out before they get married. This is horrible for you and I hate to see someone as beautiful, bright, and capable as you go through it, but you are also strong and I presume self-sufficient. You will come out the other side much better off."

It was the first time I had ever verbalized something that I had kept hidden from everyone. Especially myself. "I want to say you are right, but I have just gotten comfortable in the past two years living with Michael that as bad as it was, I was not alone. I have always felt like I was alone. My father left when I was in elementary school and my mother is so involved in her own life, she does not really even play a role in mine. It was easy to put up with Michael for a while because I felt like I at least had him in my corner. I just cannot believe I have gotten myself in this mess."

"Annie, I have always believed that we do the best we can. When we learn better, we do better. I realize I do not know you well, but I have always had a good instinct about people. You will be fine. But, you have to know that if you do not take care of yourself, no one else will." I knew it was sage advice. I also knew what I had to do.

"Okay, enough about me. Tell me more about you. I honestly need to spend at least 15 minutes today focused on someone else. That is growth for a former sorority girl, right?" He laughed.

"I have been very lucky in my life. But, I will tell you that a huge part of my luck was hard work. That does not mean everything has been easy. I built a very successful company and then sold it when the time was right. It was a different time, but my wife and I married in college. We had been high school sweethearts. I was the center of her world and then she was the center of mine when I retired. I made more money than we could ever spend, and I wanted to try to spend it all with her. Our luck ran out when she was diagnosed with colon cancer at age 52. She fought valiantly for eight years. But, it is a fight that no one really wins. We had the wherewithal to try everything. Sometimes, nothing is enough." He almost teared up telling the story. I could tell that she had meant everything to him.

"Did the two of you have kids?"

"No, that was the one thing we missed out on. Although, our lives were always so full, it is hard to say we missed out on anything. We had each other. That was always enough. Our lives always felt complete."

"I did not mean to pry." I could tell that he had become uncomfortable when the conversation turned to him. I don't think he realized that would be part of the bargain.

"You did not. Honestly, I have rarely talked about it. Sarah and I always lived in New York. I still have a place here. When I retired, we bought a house in Coral Gables with a yard—a pool, a garden, a tennis court, the works. When she passed, I could not bring myself to keep it. It had been her pride and joy. I knew I could never keep it to the standards she had. It would be sadder to see it that way. I sold it furnished as I did our place in New York and started over. I did not want to walk in and see her or memories of her every day."

All of a sudden, my problems seemed surmountable by comparison. I was choosing to end a bad relationship. He had had a great relationship taken from him. We continued exchanging stories and both felt a little sorry for ourselves. At the end of a two hour lunch, though, we both agreed that it had been good to talk to the other and made a plan to meet for lunch again the following Monday. I got the sense that he rarely socialized. As we got to know each other better at our subsequent lunches, I learned my hunch was right.

Max, that stranger on the plane, proved to be the therapist I needed. He had no emotional investment in my relationship and as I explained things to him, it became more and more apparent that I had to end things with Michael. In turn, he regaled me with stories of neighbors in New York and acquaintances of Sarah's who thought they could sweep in and "comfort" the newly eligible bachelor. He saw through them and had no interest. He told me that one day, when the time was right, he felt he would move on, but it wasn't the right time yet.

After six weeks, I told him my decision was made. I would be telling Michael to move out the following Saturday. Saying it to Max made it real. I had a concrete plan and had told him so I would be accountable. I knew Michael would be able to go to a friend's until he found a new place. I was giving him a couple of hours to pack, but that was it. His stuff would fit in a couple of suitcases. I had bought everything else in our apartment—including his precious tv, but if it took giving it to him to get him out, it would be worth it.

The rest of the week passed and I followed through on my conversation with Michael. I did it at a restaurant at brunch so he would not be able to escalate things. We had had our share of arguments and I really wasn't worried, but I thought it was something better said in public. Michael actually took it pretty well. I don't even think he was that surprised. I saw him as the "immature frat boy" and he saw me as the "nagging shrew." It was not a good combination. I told him to take a few hours to pack. He said it would not be a problem to bunk up with one of the guys. And I went to do a little retail therapy to clear my mind.

When I got home, his stuff was gone and he had left he place in shambles. I don't think his packing really required knocking stuff off the coffee table and the throw pillows off the sofa, but it seemed a small price to pay. Of course, the tv mounted to the wall in the living room was gone. It seemed a small price to pay. I was not proud of it, but I decided to go for a run or jog or whatever you want to call it before I faced cleaning the place off. I put on running shorts, a sports bra, and a tank with my running shoes, grabbed my phone and keys and took off. As much as I wanted this relationship to end, the run would help me clear my head.

I had been running for about 30 minutes and keeping a good pace. Nothing like frustration to maximize a workout. Then, out of nowhere as is typical in Miami a storm blew in. I was on the jogging trail by that restaurant where I had first met up with Max. I dedided to take shelter in the restaurant—regardless of how wet I had become. As only my luck would have it, the restaurant did not open until 6:00 for dinner and it was only 5:40. After a few minutes, I could not control myself anymore. I broke down in tears. I could not let people parade into the restaurant and see me like this. I also could not make it home in the storm. It was too far. Then, I had an idea and dialed Max's number.

"Annie, Darling, how are you?" he answered.

"Well, at the moment, I am not well. I was out for a run, the storm blew in, and I am trapped at that steakhouse where we first met. There is not a taxi or Uber to be had. Michael and I broke things off this morning, he packed this afternoon, and I think I just had the breakdown I was so desperately trying to avoid."

"Darling, I know it is pouring, but if you can make it across the street, I will be happy to provide your shelter during the storm."

"That is the best offer I have had all day. I will be right over."

"I will call downstairs and let them know I am expecting you. It's number 4101."

I ran across the street. The doorman showed me to the elevator and pressed PH for me. Max lived in the penthouse. Of course, he did. The doors of the elevator opened directly into his apartment. It was immaculate, but homey. Masculine, but beachy. Max appeared wearing neatly pressed khakis and white linen shirt that did not even appear wrinkled. "Oh my darling, you are soaked through. I took the liberty of drawing you a warm bath. You should find towels and my bathrobe in there. I will throw your clothes in the wash."

"Max, that is too sweet. I don't want to be any trouble."

"My darling, you could not be trouble if you tried."

The master bathroom was unbelievable—completely done in grey marble. I could not believe the view as I overlooked where the intracoastal fed into the ocean from the tub. He had lit a couple of candles for me and I climbed in the tub and pressed the button to turn on the jets. I will not lie, Max knew exactly what I needed. After a long soak, I dried off, found a blowdryer, put on his thick terrycloth robe, and made my way back to the living room.

"There you are. I hope a nice soak made you feel a little better. Perhaps, you were able to find a little peace."

"I did. Thank you so much. I hope I am not keeping you from plans. If I am, I can make my way home...storm or no storm."

"My darling, you are keeping me from nothing. I was going to prepare a beef tenderloin, potatoes, and salad for dinner. Will you join me?"

"I would love to, but it is not going unnoticed to me that I am wearing a robe." He laughed.

"That has not gone unnoticed to me either." He continued laughing. "Why don't I get you a pair of my pajamas. They are about the only thing I have that will fit you."

"Then I will stay, but only if you join me and put on pajamas as well."

"My darling, it sounds like you are trying to get me out of my clothes..." he chuckled.

"Well, maybe I am." We both smiled.

Max got me a pair of his neatly pressed pajamas and showed me to the guest room to change. When I came out he too had changed into a similar pair. "It's been a long time since I had a pajama party," he chuckled.

"I don't know that I ever did." The slight absurdity of the situation was not lost on either of us.

I assisted in the preparation of dinner. It was delicious. Max proved to be very adept in the kitchen. He explained that he and Sarah had always loved to cook and it was one of his great joys these days although he did acknowledge how much he missed sharing both the experience and the food with someone. He opened a nice bottle of wine and we found ourselves falling into conversation as we always did. Before we realized it, it was almost midnight with the storm still going strong.

"Annie Darling, I don't feel good about sending you home by yourself at this hour. Why don't you just spend the night here in the guest room. I will take you home in the morning."

His offer was very sweet and I had gotten myself home at this hour many times before, but honestly, I had no desire to face the empty apartment. "If you are sure you don't mind."