We Met on a Plane
And my life was changed
He shifted in his seat, rearranging his legs and jerking his head looking in different directions, making me nervous as we taxied across the tarmac. It was my first time traveling solo since the breakup, and I was happy to be going somewhere she would have hated.
The way he fidgeted made me long to reach over and put a calming hand on his bouncing knee. I wanted to steady his hand from its dance between adjusting his hat and cradling a sweater. As I pretended to read a book, I imagined the conversation we would have if I asked about his jittery behavior.
But I didn’t ask. Instead, I snuck furtive glances at the bearded face and hazel eyes. Usually, I found beards disgusting, but his was different, distinguished. The flight was just a couple of hours, but with each minute more questions about this Spaniard flooded my mind until I felt like they would come spilling out in a flood of nosy nonsense.
His tension seemed to ease the longer we were in the air as mine mounted. He opened a conversation with a question about the book I was holding but not really reading. As we spoke, I felt a sigh of relief and a cord of energy twisting between us. During the time after the landing when the air is full of anticipation for the destination, we chatted easily.
