Only Fools Rush In [to be edited]

The Second Ending

Bringing his fist underneath his chin, Brennan watched in weary boredom as boarding passengers walked back and forth in front of him, tugging their luggage behind them. He rubbed his aching eyes and released a stretching yawn. Snuggling down deeper into the metal chair, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. What seemed to be seconds later, he awoke to the blaring of a female announcer over the amplifier. Jerking his head up, he looked around with a bleary vision, remembering slowly where he was.

Seeing the airplane icon on a board ahead of him, he glanced at his watch and saw that twenty minutes had passed and his therapist hadn’t returned. Neatening his ruffled hair and adjusting his shifted tie, he grabbed the bags he had carried in and headed for the ticket station. As he walked across the white, tiled floors, his mind wandered to the girl. Her face was clearer than before—every dimple, every crinkle in her expressions were just as alive as when he had been with her long ago. He could hear her soft breath lulling him and her delicate touch comforting him.

Shaking his head, Brennan laughed softly and wiped away the beginning tear. To his gratefulness, Ms. Wells emerged from the front of the line with the two tickets tucked in her handbag. Spotting her patient, she let out a large smile and placed her hand on his shoulder. Looking down at him, for he was only five feet and four inches, and she was five inches taller than him, she said brightly, “Apparently, today, a few people just landed from North Vietnam.”

“When did they come in?” Brennan asked, carrying on the dull conversation.

“I think the lady said ten minutes ago.” Ms. Wells stopped suddenly and looked down at the keys and bags dangling off her arms. “Oh, I forgot my hat! Stay here and I’ll be back.”

Brennan gave her a nod and watched as she trotted off back to the counter. Sighing, he tucked his hands into his pockets and made his way to the concession stand in the lounge area. His blood drained at the sight of the walk back; it seemed shorter when he had left to find his therapist. Biding his time, Brennan gazed at the schlock shops he passed by and picked up a couple of tourists’ brochures to entertain himself. As he flipped through a guide to the European islands, he stopped and noticed his shoe untie. Slapping his hands in annoyance against his thighs, he knelt down to tie it. As he did so, he looked up to see if he was blocking traffic, and as he did so, he caught a glimpse of a distance figure standing in line for coffee.

Draping his hand over his elevated knee, he stared at the figure. He squinted, blinked, and rubbed his eyes, hoping that what he was seeing was deceiving him. The girl was dressed in a buttermilk shirt dress and black heels. In her arms, she cradled a large book and a brown handbag. Brennan stood up and took a step forward, hoping that that one stride would help him get a better look, but in doing so, the girl turned her head in his direction.

Their eyes locked.

The girl’s hands released the book, sounding a loud thump on the ground. People’s heads shot in her direction. She broke out of the line and made for Brennan. And just to keep the surrounding passengers’ attention, the girl shouted as loud as her lungs could bear, “Tinh yeu cua toi! Tinh yeu cua toi!”

Brennan stood still for a moment. The white walls flickered into the background of woods. The signs hanging above camouflaged into giant leaves. The floor beneath him became an ocean of dark soil, and the murmuring of people transformed into the whispering of a warm wind. Without thinking, his hands caught the small waist and he felt her small, delicate hands balance on his shoulders. Her laughter sung in his ears and her tears revived the smile he had lost. Setting her down, but not breaking their gaze, Brennan cupped the back of her head and carefully pulled the band from her swept up hair.

Down in a familiar and haunting beauty, her raven hair settled on her shoulders, framing her inquisitive eyes and soft smile. Brennan pulled her closer and whispered to himself, “Are you real? Tien? Are you?” his hand trailed down her arm and stopped at the glittering jewel on her left finger. Breaking into a smile, he said, “I guess so.” He brought her face into his hands and rested his forehead against hers.

Tien placed her hands on top of his and caressed the back of his neck lightly with her tapered fingers. “I waited,” she began in French, “I waited, but then I came to America. I had to find you.”

Brennan felt warm tears tracing down his face as he stared in the face he so longed to see again. The face he thought would only exist in his memories.

“Where were you going?” Tien asked, her voice cracking from emotions. She looked up, regarding Brennan with uncontainable affection.

“J’ allais te cherche. I was going to look for you.”

As if words were no longer strong enough to express their feelings, Tien placed her arms around his neck and pulled him in close. Brennan hesitated, taking a moment to realize that he wasn’t in the war anymore. He wasn’t alone. Everything he thought he had lost had been returned to him. His boyish cheeks dimpled in a smile as he rested his face on her shoulder, his arms enclosing her against him. Closing his eyes, he found himself no longer a frightened private, or a lost corporal, or a heroic sergeant, or any instrument of the war, but instead a boy. A boy who simply loved a girl that had saved his life one day in North Vietnam, 1967.

THE END