Then
Andy dragged his luggage along behind him, finally off the plane and cruising through the airport, feeling worn out yet still energetic, happy to be on his home turf and finally away from his childhood home. Brian was right, in a way. He did need to get married and get a house, but not in order to "grow up." He had to do it so he had a reason not to haul his ass half way across the country several times a year for stupid holidays.
Thanksgiving sucked worst of all. It amounted to a lot of travel for one too long day of food and football and all out sibling and parental combat. Andy spent the time putting up with intrusions into his life by his older brother and sister and his mother and father. That delight was followed by three more long boring days with nothing to do but to fume and simmer about that first day, or to listen to Mom and Dad battle and scream. All the while he was just waiting to go home, to his own, real, current home. That then meant struggling along with all of the other sorry souls bouncing in random directions trying to get home, too, like a bunch of worms wriggling around in a can on a fishing trip.
The only good thing about going home for Thanksgiving, or again for Christmas or Mom's birthday or anything, was seeing Taylor, and this time he hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving day, even though he'd stayed for three more. He needed to talk to her badly.
Andy stopped in his tracks. It sucked. He hadn't seen her once after Thanksgiving Day and he only had himself to blame for it.
A flight attendant was hustling along behind him with more of a sense of urgency and purpose. She hadn't expected him to suddenly halt to wallow in self recrimination, with the result that she almost knocked him over. She was cute, and the minor collision was just the sort of casual opening he could take advantage of to strike up a conversation her.
"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," she said.
Her voice was a breathy chirp, and very naturally sexy. Andy instinctively beamed a smile at her, watching her eyes reflexively light up when she saw it. It worked every time, so well that it was a thoughtless, habitual tactic for him now. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried.
"It's okay. It was my fault."
She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to make up her mind. Then a delicate, well manicured hand reached out in that contemporary way, half offering a hand for an almost intimate he-she handshake, but turned palm slightly downward as if she were hoping that he'd romantically kiss it instead of shake it.
He uncharacteristically stared at her hand for a long moment before taking it. Normally, that was a way forward that he smoothly and easily accepted. Before it became too awkward, he reached out to take her hand.
"I'm Allison."
"Andy."
She smiled, looking as if she were about to say something, then thought better of it. She was too cute. She was petite and strikingly thin, but in a soft, curvy way. She was very blond, with nice legs and what looked to him to be very inviting blue eyes. She looked great and was sending all of the usual signals. He could probably get her into bed by this evening with little effort.
He stared at her, saying nothing more.
"Well, I guess I'd better be going. Sorry again," she said.
With that, she was moving around him. She watched his face as she passed him, offering him one last chance.
And then she was gone, fifty feet away and receding, as Andy stood, staring and thinking.
He pulled his bag along behind him on his way to the long term parking, not at all wondering why he'd passed up such an easy opportunity and instead thinking again about Taylor.
* * *
Now
Taylor eased down the steep steps of the train, one foot at a time, leaning back to keep her center of gravity carefully over her feet. She clung to the side rail, smiling meekly at the conductor as he tried to help, to stay out of the way, to be ready to catch her, and not to cause her to fall, all at once. She kept her other hand on her round, swollen belly, a now common and almost unconscious habit, as if she were somehow shielding the baby by doing so.
She smiled weakly at the conductor for his help, then again at the gentleman who carried her heavy suitcase down behind her.
"Thank you so much."
She hated being helped. Everyone was so kind to a very pregnant woman, and it did make her feel better about the state of the human race, but at the same time she was so used to being independent. It rubbed her the wrong way to accept help from anyone, let alone to need it.
"Do you need help getting somewhere? A cab? Can I carry it further?" the other passenger asked.
"No, Thank you. You're all very kind. My brother should be here to meet me."
Except he's almost certainly late, and will leave me sitting here for at least thirty minutes, without fail. Andy could be counted on to fuck up even just meeting her at the platform.
"Taylor. Taylor."
She turned, and there he was.
She had to smile at him. His damned smile was so bright, it always made her smile back. The older he got, the better that smile got.
"You're here."
"Of course I'm here. I told you I would be. 3:32 PM, on the button."
She gave him a sly look. He probably had a bet with someone, Brian maybe, that he would be on time. He needn't have bothered. She would have lied for him and told them he was on time, even if he weren't.
Taylor looked out at the blue sky beyond the platform. It was one of those crystal clear May days, when it's not too warm and not too cool, after a long winter of freezing cold and snow followed by a series of gloomy, rainy days that weren't as cold as winter, but might as well be.
This was the weather she and Andy had always lived for as kids. This was kite flying weather, and street ball weather, and roll down a grass hillside weather.
Andy had her bag, ready to move, but hesitating.
"Do you need help? Do you need to hold my arm?"
"Andy. I'm pregnant, not paraplegic."
He smiled broadly at her again, and with that smile everything in the entire world just seemed wonderful, making her wonder how or why she'd ever felt sad for a single moment in her life. She looped her hand through his arm, momentarily leaned on his shoulder, then planted a quick kiss on his cheek. He obediently bent down to help her reach him without much effort at all, which was good because even standing on tip toes was a challenging feat these days.
"But I will take your arm, just because I want to."
With that they walked away down the long platform towards the exit and his car.
* * *
They hadn't gone far when Taylor's phone went off. Andy watched patiently as she hunted for it in her hand bag, pulled it out, glanced at the display, then rolled her eyes for show as her expression soured.
"It's Mom."
Andy gave her a closed-mouth smile. He also propped Taylor's luggage up to stand on it's own, since there was no way this wasn't going to take longer than it should.
"Hi, Mom."
Andy watched Taylor's expressions change in the bright sunlight as she spoke.
"No, yes, he was here. Yes, on time. Yeah, it was Andy. No, for real. Okay. Yes. Yes. Mom. Mom, please. Yes. Yes. Mom! Okay, okay, hang on."
Taylor frowned as she flipped her wrist forward dramatically, offering him the phone.
"It's for you."
She covered the mouth piece briefly before continuing.
"It seems she doesn't entirely trust her little slut of a daughter."
Andy looked at the phone as if it were coated with the plague. Overcoming his revulsion, he smiled conspiratorially at Taylor as he took it.
"Hi, Mom."
"Andy? I told her you'd be there, right on time."
