Meeting Love - Chapter 1
Chapter 1 All good things come to those who wait
It's interesting isn't it? I suppose that when you're waiting for someone in a busy arrivals lounge, the fading blue walls reminding you of what must've been an amazing place, now simply there to crush everyone in, you slip into the idea that you're the only person with a story. You believe you should be at the front because both you and the person you're waiting for is extraordinarily special, that you're somehow better than any other being on the planet.
The feeling of being at the centre can be quite a peculiar one. I think you could almost say it's like being an Ancient Greek, imagining the world is flat and the Earth is the centre of everything, that feeling of importance and that you truly believe you have a role in everything (and geocentricity for that matter, but let's not break into the world of physics just yet).
But, after a three hour delay, you really get to look around at who's among the welcoming party and work out who they're here to collect.
The three kids and their mother, welcoming their beloved grandpa home with all the colours of the rainbow. They sat on the luggage trolley, slouched, their sign set down. One of the little children was playing away on his handheld games console, tapping and tapping and tapping, the others peering over her shoulder, watching intently.
The Sheikh man in ceremonial dress, presumably meeting a distant relative, or perhaps a new friend or business associate. He remained stood, but leaned lazily against a wall, keeping his gaze fixed in the general direction of the doors, remaining hopeful that his arrival would suddenly appear as if by magic.
The well dressed gentleman, wearing a well fitting black suit, with a dark red silk tie. His black leather gloves grasping his professional looking sign, showing that he must be here in a professional capacity. He stood straight, staring at the doors, not moving. I have to admit, he looked pretty hot... But, I shouldn't be thinking like that, especially considering who I'm waiting for.
Before I have chance to explain to you, the doors swung open electrically, a sudden flood of people appearing. I had to double take, assuming this was just a mirage, like so many of the other ones I'd seen in my eternity of waiting. But no, this time it was real, people jumped to their feet, the kids leaving their games unsaved and still playing, the Sheikh suddenly appearing awake and alert, the suited man not even flinching.
I delved into the pocket of my stylish tweed jacket, rummaging between the airport food wrappers and receipts from the junk I'd been buying unconsciously and expensively. I pulled out receipt after note paper after food wrapper after receipt, frantically searching for the photo. Suddenly, with great fear, my pocket wasn't the only empty thing I could feel. I dropped them all onto the floor before me and spread them about, turning them over, trying to figure out where that blasted photo was hiding.
I knew people were watching. I knew some of them were snickering. I knew some of them wanted to help, but couldn't; they had to keep their eyes peeled for their long awaited friends.
My body began to shake and the paper and floor below me slowly became wet with my tears. The feeling of the hot tears trickling down my face and dropping from my jaw line, sploshing onto the floor. I thought the worst. What if I couldn't find the picture? What if he walks past, wondering where I am. What if he leaves the airport and head into the country alone? What if... What if he thought I stood them up? After all the talking, all the kindness and all the encouragement, what if he never forgave me?
I suppose it's a good thing I sometimes become a nervous wreck, falling apart into nothingness and despair. Otherwise I'd have never had to delve into the pocket on the other side of my jacket for a tissue. I guess that's what saved me from a long evening and a lot of explaining. My hand touched not a tissue, but a glossy piece of paper, no bigger than a wallet. I slowly removed it and looked down at it's beautiful colour image of someone so beautiful, someone so cute, someone so amazing. I almost cried out with glee, but my joy was cut short.
More thoughts ran through my weak, insecure mind. What if I've already missed him? What if he saw the wreck I was in an decided he'd be better of on his own? What if he was in trouble? I scrambled to my feet and looked desperately to the doors.
The first person had only just stepped through the door and towards their open-armed greeting.
That was that, panic over, a wave of long, well-deserved relief flowing over my calming body. I looked back down at the picture, taking in his adorable little face, his perfect smile, his deep eyes. I look around, searching for the one whom I long and search tirelessly for. I scan the room left and right, but crowds were pushing forwards.
I knew that my cause was much more important than the rest, so I moved right to the front in the centre, defending my position. I keep shuffling, staying half a pace in front of the rest. Nobody was going to stop me from finding him, nobody. I felt just like a King, leading his men into a battle, striving to slay any who stand in the path of his conquest, of his goal, of his lost one.
But, the King met a great resistance, little had he planned for the surge of four planes of people charging back against his army. I halted out of instinct, and the people on either side of me did so too, all looking to me, not wanting to pass.
The enemy was unforgiving however, picking off my forces, one by one. Charging them with a fierce battle cry, their arms flung wide, some tears rolling from their eyes. They smashed into my own men and women, wrapping their arms around them unforgivingly and leading them away.
After a long, painful, twenty minutes, the steady thick flow of passengers began to thin and the thin flow of my tears began to trickle. My cheeks slowly became warm and wet, my body shaking again. Thoughts flowing. Breathing heavy. Did I mention I'm an absolute mess?
I sat down on in a cold metal chair, on one of the many rows and rows of the same chairs. However, I wasn't aware I had almost sat on someone's half empty, abandoned coffee, I was too occupied with my own thoughts. Had I been stood up? Had he not bothered? Had he just done it to make fun of me? Had he seen me and gone straight past me?
"Well, good evening Mr Tears..." That voice. That glorious voice, so familiar, yet usually so far away... His soft, caring tones penetrating my closed, sad mind. I very slowly looked up, trying to wipe my tears away with my wrists as if nothing happened. I have no idea why I did it though, he had already clearly noticed the depressive pile of nothingness I was. As my eye moved up, I quickly glanced at the photo before landing my eyes on the real thing.
His beautiful, dark hair. His deep, glassy eyes. His cute, feminine figure. I caught my breath, only to lose it again before even speaking. He smiled at me, tilting his head in the adorable way that he did. "Don't worry, I'm here now!" He giggled a little, placing his hand on my shoulder playfully.
For the first time I felt his soft, gentle touch. At last feeling his gentile personality. "I... I..." I stumbled over my words, my vocabulary escaping me, my worry and panic taking over my feeble mind. I stopped myself from stuttering and gulped. "Hi there..." I spoke with a mix of happiness and embarrassment, excitement and nervousness. At last we were standing beside each other. At last we could be together. At last I could hold him... Caress him... Kiss his sexy lips... At last. At last. At last.