Maria stood by the baggage carousel at Los Angeles' United terminal and watched the suitcases lumber past. 'I'm in Los Angeles,' she kept telling herself, but it was impossible to accept. All the time spend dreaming about this moment, and she couldn't think of anything except how far away she was from Tim.
She fingered the ring at her throat like a good luck charm. Her first impulse when she had realized that she was still wearing it had been to send it back to him, but he had told her to keep it. No doubt he had meant to sell it and use the cash, but Maria couldn't bring herself to do that. It was all she had left of him and in the end she had hung it on a chain around her neck. Now she clutched it while the memory of him twisted inside her like a knife.
Ever since she had walked out that terrible afternoon eight days ago, she had been wrapped in such a fog of dull despair that she had hardly known where she was or what she was doing. It had numbed her as she threw her clothes into a bag at the motel, isolated her from the rush-hour crowd as she sat in the back of the taxi to the airport.
The same despair had anaesthetized her on the long, sad journey to California. She had moved like a robot and none of it had seemed real. Real was Tim. Real was the smile in his eyes and the warmth of his hand and the glow that came just being near him. She felt cut off from the world without him, as if she had lost the part of herself that could think and feel and respond.
She ached for him and felt as if that was the only part of her that really existed and was afraid that if it went away it would leave her hollow and meaningless.
She had put him behind her; she knew that. He hadn't tried to contact her once since she had left. He knew her cell number, so he could have found her if he had wanted to that first night before she had fled their apartment. He could have called but he hadn't and that meant that he didn't want to find her. And if he really believed that she had done what he accused her, then she didn't want to be found.
That was what she had told herself when there was no sign of him at O'Hare. She had known that he wouldn't be there but it hadn't stopped her hoping against hope that he would miraculously appear and snatch her into his arms and refuse to let her get on the plane. And now she was in California with no option but to start afresh. She was going to put him behind her and discover a new life for herself and pretend that that was what she had wanted all along.
Maria's bag trundled into view at last and she hoisted it off the carousel and onto the cart. She had no idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do next and suddenly she was overpowered by such a terrible feeling of hopelessness that all she could do was cling onto the cart in panic. She didn't want to be here! She wanted to be back in Chicago, lying in bed next to Tim, running her hands over his strong body, savoring the taste of him and the feel of him and the sound of him breathing.
Aware of a few curious glances being cast in her direction, Maria made an immense effort. She couldn't stay here forever. Squaring her shoulders, she headed towards the exit and then it was out through the doors and onto the terminal's sidewalk which was full of people wanting to greet relatives and friends arriving from all over the world. She could hear the excitement as a loved one was spotted and swept up into a joyful reunion. Keeping her eyes down, she pushed her cart past them. There was no one to meet her.
Pain squeezed her heart with cruel, icy fingers but she forced down her tears. She had spent the last few days with her parents, too sick with misery to cry and she wasn't going to start crying now. She wasn't.
When he had accused her of having an affair, she couldn't believe it. She had no defense... how can you prove something that never happened? How could he believe something like that? She was heartbroken and angry.
Words were spoken and she had left.
"Maria!" There was someone beside her, a hand touching her arm.
She froze. It sounded like Tim but it couldn't be him... could it? She turned her head very slowly, fearfully, bracing herself for the flow of discovering that it wasn't him at all and her heart stopped. There he stood. The same eyes, the same cool, severe mouth that had turned her bones to honey. No one else had a mouth like that.
It was Tim. It was him!
She stared, incredulous, still not daring to let herself believe that he was there, standing before her, his expression taut and uncertain as if he, too, couldn't accept that he had found her.
"Tim?" Maria's voice was barely more than a thread and her knuckles stood out white where she gripped the car for support in a world that suddenly staggered around her.
Tim nodded his head. He couldn't speak. All he could do was drink in the sight of her. She looked thinner, somehow muted and the blue eyes were dark with pain but it was Maria, at last.
"I was afraid I had missed you," he said suddenly. His voice was hoarse and once he had started, the words came tumbling out in an unstoppable rush. "I've been waiting and waiting for you to come through that door. I was beginning to think that I hadn't seen you, that you'd gone and I'd never be able to find you again."
