Gate Expectations

Finally, after two delays, four cups of coffee, a greasy burger and hundreds of Candy Crush wins, I heard the announcement that my plane would be boarding. I stood up, gathered my belongings, and trudged toward the nearest waste can.

As I unloaded my trash, I locked eyes with a man. No—not a man. A god. His entrancing blue eyes and sparkling smile could have lit the runway, and his chiseled physique might have stopped an airplane midair.

I smiled. He smiled. My body tingled. I was flying high.

Before I could think or move, he turned away. And with the flair of a tennis pro, lobbed his Starbucks into the bin and sprinted into the crowd.

My thoughts raced so fast they crashed into each other. Is he married? Where is he going? What is his name? I needed to know everything. I wanted to chase after him, but I also needed to board. What should I do? I spun in circles desperate to find him, but he was gone. I had encountered—and lost—the man with a one-way ticket to my heart, and I had no idea how to process it.

It was my turn to board. Do I stay or go? I had promised my cousin Alex I’d be there for support for the weekend. A willing, unpaid assistant. We were cohorts in everything. Growing up, we’d always be shooting off firecrackers or some other mischief, and I was the one who supported the scheme. Competition was a daily given: who could climb the tree fastest or catch the first fish. I lost most of the time. Looks like I was losing the First-to-Get-Married Trophy, too.

Alex’s happiness mattered more than finding the man who had pulled the emergency brake on my heart. As in the past, I was expected to be a helping hand. I boarded, leaving my shattered heart behind.

I found my seat and collapsed into it, stewing over my loss but grateful to finally be on my way to New York. After a few minutes, the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, explaining we’d be delayed on the tarmac until the crew could fix a problem in the cargo hold. Why am I not surprised?

I glanced at the flight attendant, and I swear she was laughing at me, grinning like a child who’d just pulled a prank, and I was the victim. If I hadn’t been buckled in, I might have leapt over the seats and throttled her.

As I sat there, impatiently waiting for a Jack Daniels, my thoughts drifted back to the man whom I wanted to be the co-pilot of my life. I wondered where he was going. I tried to recall the destinations of nearby flights, scanning the boards I had studied earlier, but now my mind was blank. What difference did it make, anyway? It’s not like I was going to fly to that city, get off the plane, and find him waiting for me with roses in one hand and champagne in the other.

Instead of ogling him, I should have sauntered toward him and asked him the time, or if he’d like to be my plus one for the wedding.

Okay, get a grip—get off this flight of fantasy and back to reality.

I could just imagine what Alex would say. I could hear it now: You? Head over heels? Never! Before you even go out, you want a background check on him and his family and friends. You can’t even commit to a sandwich without a spreadsheet, and now you want to be engaged before the sunsets to someone whose name you don’t even know?

Yes, yes, that was true. And I wanted to tell somebody how I felt, to get some kind of feedback. I couldn’t keep this bottled up inside me. With that thought, I blurted out to the man sitting next to me, “Do you believe in meeting your soul mate at first sight?”

He squirmed in his seat and looked at me as if I had the plague. “I want you to know I’ve been happily married for five years. Very happily.”

Oh no. He thinks I’m hitting on him.

I stuttered, “I didn’t mean you and me. It was just a philosophical question. Oh, never mind.”

I could feel the heat rise from my neck and engulf my head. Seriously, why don’t passenger seats have an eject button? Now I had to sit here for two hours next to a man who thought I wanted a midair rendezvous. Every time I moved, he glanced at me as if I were going to pinch or start groping him.

What was I thinking? Chemistry is not destiny. Of course not. It was my hormones rebelling and attacking my normal, rational brain cells. They were collaborating and telling me, this is what happens when you live your life safely. It turns on you, and suddenly you’re nuts. Being a systematic planner for everything means nothing. There are no spreadsheets, calendars, or organizers to help when you’re spiraling out of control over a complete stranger. It just happens.

I guess I deserved this. Maybe I had been too practical. I was prepared for everyday messes, not irrational situations. Okay, think logically. This was some random moment and was not real. I would have to be satisfied with having one breathtaking cinematic moment. I’d stash it in a corner of my brain and resurrect it at my next boring sales meeting. Okay—enjoyed, done, and temporarily forgotten.

Now I needed to think about what I wanted to see while I was in New York after the wedding. I’d never been to the top of the Empire State Building—oh, how romantic—I’d meet my mystery man there, just like in the movie Sleepless in Seattle.

Ugh, why did every thought boomerang back to him? It was like a bell that had been rung—you couldn’t un-ring it. I was being held prisoner by a once-in-a-lifetime glance. I needed to do something, or I’d never be able to concentrate on anything again. Being practical in a ridiculous situation was an oxymoron. I needed to find a way to see him again. What if I found out where he was going, called the airport, and told them I was looking for my long-lost brother who had been on that flight? I’d describe him and insist they not let him leave. What was I doing? I don’t even know if he has a sister.

To distract myself, I pulled the newspaper from the back of the seat pocket. Hopefully, the chaotic events of the world would drown out my own absurdities. Before long, the news bored me, and I fell asleep. I woke up in time to hear the pilot announce we’d be landing soon. I wondered if my cousin had received my texts about my flight delay. Alex told me Gary, the unreliable future brother-in-law, would be picking me up. The way this day was going, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up.

I needed to check with Alex and determine the status of my ride. My phone is dead. Why did I have to forget my charger?

I have no idea what this guy looked like or if he’s even coming after all of these delays.

I’m supposed to look for an old Taurus with bumper stickers at the passenger pickup outside baggage claim. How many of these clunkers could there still be around?

After collecting my bags, I spotted a car that matched Alex’s description—a beat-up Taurus plastered with bumper stickers: I kiss better than I drive and Old enough to know better…young enough to try. I asked the driver if he was waiting for me.

“You bet! Been waiting for you my whole life.”

I looked at him and his creepy, sex-starved stare. Sweat poured down my back. My body quivered and screamed, don’t get in! Then it hit me—this couldn’t be Alex’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. He was way too old. I told him he was mistaken. He jabbed a finger at me, eyes narrowing, and barked, “You’re the one that flagged me down! If you don’t like your job, get another one!”

I stepped back in disbelief and looked around, hoping no one had heard. The last thing I need is getting arrested.

I eyed the line of cars streaming past. No luck. I checked my watch, scanned the cars, and paced back and forth. Still no sign of anyone coming to my rescue. Finally, desperation drove me to beg a woman nearby to let me use her phone to call Alex.

Just then, a rusty, paint-faded Ford Taurus roared up, heavy metal blasting so loudly it rattled the windows. The driver glanced at his phone, looked at me, and yelled, “Hey, I’m Gary, are you Melinda, Alex’s cousin? You sure look like the photo!”

This had to be the right car, but I hesitated at the door, eyeing him and the dusty dreamcatcher and string of crystals swaying from the rearview mirror. If he wasn’t related to Alex’s fiancée, I would have pegged him for a serial killer, or a commune leader. I hoped, for Alex’s sake, that Gary’s brother had been the recipient of better genes and hygiene.

Finally, I climbed in and we headed to the apartment, excited to share my story and recruit some help in finding the man who had set up shop in my head.

When we arrived, I bolted from the car without even a thank you or goodbye. I pounded on the door, and when Alex finally answered, I blurted, “I know this weekend is all about you, and I want to hear everything about Brian, but I have to tell you—I’ve found my dream man!”

Alex blurted, “When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago.”

She laughed. “What? Wait—don’t answer. We need wine. Sit. I’ll be right back.”

It felt good to finally relax. I slipped off my shoes and sank into the couch when Alex entered the room, locking arms with a man.

“Melinda, I want you to meet Brian, my soon-to-be husband.”

My stomach churned. My brain detonated.

The man who had flown in and out of my life faster than the Concorde, leaving a contrail straight to my heart, stood in front of me.

Alex was marrying my mystery man. How could she? She hadn’t just won the trophy—she’d claimed the grand prize.

I wanted to greet him, but when his blue eyes gleamed at me, my breath caught in my throat, the room tilted and spun like a hamster running full force on his wheel. I think I’m going to die. Oh God, please don’t let him see me dead.

My life had depreciated since I walked in the door. In a second, I went from being in the black to deep in the red. Before I could formulate a plan, Brian stepped forward and extended his hand, smiling like a game show host awarding the grand prize, completely unaware of my inner turmoil. “Hi, I’m so happy to finally meet the cousin that Alex never stops talking about.”

As our hands touched, my hamster wheel flew off its anchor.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Brian,” I managed.

His hand lingered too long in mine as his gaze drifted over me. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Maybe,” I said, trying to sound restrained. “Do you believe in fate?”

“I don’t know.” He winked.

“Do you?”