As I stood in line at the gate for my flight to San Diego, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. I was on my way to an academic conference at USD, the first one since my divorce. I was still reeling from the emotional pain of losing Serena, my wife of 15 years, to another man. The kids, Justin and Emily, were staying with their aunt for the weekend, and I couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving them behind. As I waited in line, I tried to distract myself by thinking about the papers I would be presenting at the conference, but my mind kept wandering back to my failed marriage.
I finally boarded the plane, relieved to be on my way. I settled into my seat, pulled out my laptop, and tried to focus on work. That's when a late-arriving passenger, a young Asian woman, bumped into my seat as she tried to squeeze past me.
"Sorry," she said, blushing as she apologized. I noticed her long, dark hair and the delicate jade pendant on a gold chain hanging from her neck. Her eyes were warm and inviting, and for a moment, I forgot about my troubles. "It's my fault," I said, smiling. "I should have moved my bag." We sorted out our belongings, and she finally took her seat next to me. She was young, very attractive...college age, like my students, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as I imagined what Serena would think if she saw me talking to this girl.
As we waited for the rest of our fellow passengers to board, I introduced myself. "Hi, I'm David," I said, offering her my hand.
"Mei Ling," she replied, taking my hand in hers. Her grip was firm and confident, and her nails were perfectly manicured. She had a soft, musical accent that made me feel at ease.
We fussed with our bags for a few minutes, trying to stow them in the overhead compartment, and then we sat down, adjusting our seats. The flight attendant came by, asking everyone to please fasten their seatbelts, and we began to taxi down the runway. Mei Ling pulled out a copy of a book and started reading, and I opened my laptop, determined to get some work done.
The take-off was a bit bumpy, and Mei Ling looked up from her book, her eyes wide with concern. I felt compelled to reassure her, so I turned to her and said, "Don't worry, it's just part of the process. They're just getting us up in the air." She flashed me a warm smile and went back to her book.
For a while, I worked quietly while Mei Ling read, occasionally glancing up to see her softly flipping pages or marking her place with one of those tiny bookmarks that always seem to come with new books these days. She was beautiful -- in form and countenance, as is said -- and I couldn't help but admire her from time to time, but I also felt a twinge of guilt. It had only been a few months since my divorce from my wife, Serena, and though I knew I shouldn't be looking at other women, especially one as young as Mei Ling, she was simply too lovely to ignore.
Finally, the flight attendant came by with the beverage cart, and Mei Ling and I both ordered ginger ale. As we sipped our drinks, I asked her what she was reading. She held up the book, a classic novel by Vikram Seth, and told me she was enjoying it. I laughed and admitted that I had never read any of his work, but that I had heard it was quite good.
"Oh, you must read it sometime!" she insisted. "It's one of those books that truly captures the human experience."
She had a way of speaking that made you want to listen. Her soft voice and thoughtful eyes seemed to draw you in, like a warm embrace. I found myself wanting to know more about her. So I asked, "What are you studying in college?"
"I'm majoring in economics at UCLA," she replied with a proud smile. "I've always been fascinated by the way the world works and how people interact with each other." She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "And it's not just about the money."
She fiddled with her jade pendant as we conversed, looking at me with her almond-shaped eyes. The jade looked like a perfect orb against her tan skin, and it had a ideogram on it. She told me it was a Chinese symbol meaning luck, a gift her grandmother gave to her when she was 8. I felt lucky to have met her, that was for sure. I chuckled, feeling suddenly flustered. I couldn't believe I was sitting here, talking to this gorgeous woman who was more than a decade younger than me. But somehow, I felt at ease. Maybe it was because she seemed so confident and sure of herself, or maybe it was because of her delicious accent. Whatever the reason, I was enjoying our conversation immensely.
As we talked about movies and cuisine, I realized that we had more in common than I would have ever imagined. We both loved sushi and ramen, though Mei Ling admitted that she couldn't stand the taste of natto. "It's fermented soybeans," she explained. "Very smelly and slimy." I couldn't help but laugh at her description.
Her movie tastes were surprisingly eclectic. She mentioned her love for horror films, which was something I never expected from someone who looked so delicate and beautiful. In return, I told her about my fascination with Korean dramas, which she found amusing. I said, "It's not something I would normally admit to, but these shows are addictive! They have the most beautiful cinematography and storylines that keep you hooked."
As we started discussing movies, the conversation eventually turned back to me. She said, "So Professor Stone, tell me about your life." It was a simple question, but it triggered a flood of emotions. I sighed and looked out the window before answering. "Well, to be honest, my personal life is a bit of a mess right now. I'm newly divorced."
The silence that followed felt heavy, and I could feel Mei Ling studying me intently. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said softly, her eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before looking away.
I nodded, unsure what else to say. It was always hard to talk about the divorce, even after all these months. "Yeah, it's been a rough ride. But I'm doing better now, I think," I lied, hoping to sound more convincing than I felt.
Her response was empathetic, but I didn't want to be an emotional leech. I decided to change the subject to something I knew would make me feel better--my work in philosophy.
"Well, I teach at Boston College," I began, trying my best to sound enthusiastic. "I specialize in ethical theory and political philosophy. It can get pretty intense sometimes, but I love what I do."
Mei Ling seemed genuinely interested as I described some of the concepts I was working on, like utilitarianism and Kantian ethics. As our conversation continued, I felt myself relaxing a bit. She had an easy way about her, and it was clear that she was bright and well-read. Plus, talking about philosophy always made me feel a little less lonely after my divorce.
It was a freight train of thought, the kind of yammering that probably set Serena away from me over the years. But Mei Ling eased me down out of my conversational trap with grace, "I can't speak much to the philosophy of the ages," she said. "I'm young. But I know that angels do often visit when we're at our most broken."
I couldn't help but smile at that. "Well, you certainly seem like an angel to me," I said, and I meant it. There was something so pure and uncorrupted about her that made me feel like maybe there was hope for humanity after all my years of teaching and personal foibles.
We relaxed silence after that. I returned to my laptop and attempted to work, and Mei Ling returned to Vikram Seth. The sound of the engines and the quiet hum of the plane filled the space as we worked side by side, occasionally glancing over at each other. I was tempted to take another look at her, but I tried to keep my eyes on my work and away from temptation.
The flight attendant came by to announce dinner service. As the cart wheeled by, I selected chicken while Mei Ling opted for the vegetarian option. "The airline food is better in Asia than it is here," I joked. She knew exactly what I meant. "That's why I'm going there next," she laughed. "To get some good food."
As we ate in silence, I couldn't help but notice the way the light from the overhead compartments danced across her face and highlighted the delicate features of her profile. She really was a vision, and I began to form in my mind's eye what she might look like under those clothes.
