Once Upon an Ever After

Ever After - Part 1

You know you've been loitering somewhere too long when you start recognizing the security guards.

For the third time that afternoon I took stock of the same rotund, middle-aged man in uniform as he sauntered past my bench. He cast me a backward glance and muttered something into the walkie-talkie mic he had pinned to the inside of his shoulder. Resisting the urge to give him a friendly wave, I slid my journal into my backpack and scanned the busy Baggage Claim area of the Minneapolis airport.

Arriving two hours early was a bit excessive of me—overeager, even.

I told myself it was just prudence, given I'd never driven to the airport before and had attempted to navigate the Twin Cities just twice in the two years since receiving my driver's license. But the truth was, after a 6,000 mile road trip and traversing even larger metro areas solo, I wasn't so easily intimidated.

No, there was only one reason I was lingering about, people-watching as complete strangers collected their luggage and reunited with other complete strangers. My boyfriend's flight was coming in this afternoon. And I was stupidly, nervously, ridiculously in love.

Boyfriend.

The designation still sounded so foreign rolling around in my brain. Then again, I was new to this dating thing. Plus, I hadn't exactly gone about it in a way most would consider "normal."

Half an hour earlier, a thirty-something woman awaiting her ride had tried to strike up a conversation with me. "That's a lovely blouse. You look like you're waiting for someone special," she'd said, giving me a knowing smile.

I'd nodded, glancing down at the rosy, slit-sleeved peasant shirt I'd painstakingly selected for how well it fit my long, curvy frame. It was a much more feminine look than I usually attempted, but the concession was justified in my mind by the fact that I'd snagged it at a Goodwill bag sale. Deciding it wouldn't be socially acceptable to mention all this to the professional-looking woman, I volunteered what I thought she was looking for: "My boyfriend. I haven't seen him in two months."

The older blonde woman gasped. "Oh, you poor thing! That must be so difficult." With a look of intense interest she dropped to sit beside me on the bench I'd claimed, parked a little rolling suitcase at her feet, and smoothed her pencil skirt. "My fiancé travels a lot for work. They send him all over—a weekend in Vegas, a week in Japan... I can't stand it half the time, but two months?! I can't imagine."

"It's...kind of a long distance relationship," I admitted, unsure what to do with the chatty woman's attention. Should I introduce myself?

Hi, I'm Angeli. Are you interested in becoming friends, or am I just your social life raft for the next few minutes? I managed to contain the tactless thought. Even though, in all probability, we'd never see each other again.

Deciding the anonymity was enough reason to be my candid self, I added, "He lives in Alabama."

"Oh, well that's...quite a distance." The woman gave a lipstick-smooth smile that seemed meant to cover skepticism. "But I hear if those kinds of relationships do happen to work out, they're pretty solid. 'Whatever doesn't kill us only makes us stronger,' and all that..."

I didn't think I liked her use of the word "if," but I gave a polite smile and nodded. After all, my own family, who were well-versed in how mulishly determined I could be, was only somewhat optimistic about the potential lifespan of my first real relationship. Why should I expect more from a stranger?

As it occurred to me I should give her a turn at being the focus of discussion, the blonde woman decided to fill the silence. "I bet he's really looking forward to seeing you," she nudged my elbow with hers in a conspiratory gesture.