"somewhere other than inside the out there." -- part thirty nine.
i was stuck in houston for an extra hour. my plane was delayed. in that hour, i made what were to become "my calls." going through the short mental list in my head, i called our friends, some of my family.
i didn't know anything at that point, and so it was just touching base and telling people that i didn't know anything. this can be very frustrating.
either way.
i remember clinging to that vinyl seat in the houston airport, singing some strange song under my breath.
more than that, i remember a gentleman who sat down to my right and began talking to me.
"you going to new orleans too?"
"yeah." surprisingly the opportunity for small talk was not only enticing but calming.
"gonna party?"
i looked him over and decided that he was probably about my age, and he was also one of those fellows that was so terribly good-looking that you could feel the weight of hearts broken when he breathed.
"no, it's family business."
"family business, huh?"
"yeah," i looked at my hands, "it's not pleasure, i mean."
"what's wrong?"
"what? nothing, i..."
and he shifted his weight in his chair, and that's when i noticed that he was wearing all black, and not in a fashionable sort of way, but in a "my mom made me" sort of way.
"you live in houston?"
"naw, austin, i just moved there."
"oh."
"you?"
"no, just a connection, my, uh, my grandma just died out in cali."
"oh, i'm so sorry..."
he shrugged, "it was long and drawn out. i just wish i ... i wish she didn't have to hurt so bad."
"i know the feeling."
"so what's this family business?"
"my boyfriend, he's in brain surgery," and i looked at my cell phone, "right now, he's sleeping, and they're ..."
"cutting him open. you worried?"
"utterly." but i said it with this choked voice that sort of shooed the small talk away.
he put his hand on my shoulder, "are you going to be ok?"
"only if he is."
"how long you two been together?"
"this month is our three year anniversary."
"well, cheers, then," and he held up his disposable cup of soda.
i held up my styrofoam cup of tea, "to one more."
"indeed. you wanna talk about it?"
"i'm afraid that if you want to continue talking, it's going to be the only thing that i talk about."
he settled back into the pleather, "well, we got some time."
and so i dove into the story, a little of how we met, and why i moved, but mainly it was boston and new orleans and how we were together.
he smiled and nodded. he laughed at all the right places.
they began to call out row numbers, and he stood up. as he was walking away, he turned and said, "hey, i hope he's allright," and he put his head down, "not everything happens slowly, sometimes it all takes you off guard. you just go love him. a good girl will give any man the will."
i nodded and waved.
there wasn't much more i could do for him, but i knew i could do that. i could go, and i could love him.
