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And boy did I give them a show.
At the very least I was a woman in high heels, a full face of dramatic makeup streaked with happy tears, and a feathery sequined burlesque costume running past. At the worst (or perhaps best), my tits had bounced out since I didn’t have time to worry and I was a hooker chasing after my bill-skipping John. Either way, I had the whole airport at the edge of their seats.
And I loved it.
This was who I was meant to be: loud, abrasive, perhaps slightly inappropriate at times. Okay, pretty much at all times. Colourful and bright and sparkling. I was meant to be the one who drew your attention and didn’t let go. Who danced because she would die otherwise, who showed her tits way too often because they—like all tits—deserved to be celebrated and “fuck the patriarch, free the nip” and because she goddamn wanted to. I was meant to be too much for some and just perfect for others. I was meant to love and to be loved, fully, completely, crazily.
In the end I didn’t have to catch Mason as he was boarding his plane. Didn’t have to beg the flight attendant to let me on board once the doors were closed. Didn’t even have to run all that far down the terminal.
Because Mason came running to me.
I saw him from a long way down and he saw me.
If you think running through an airport draws attention, try colliding into someone. Throwing yourself into their arms. Breaking down into tears as they do the same. Kissing each other’s necks and breathing in each other’s hair and digging into each other’s backs with greedy, earnest fingertips. Drawing their lips to yours like water from the well. Cupping their cheeks and staring down into their eyes and muttering a million words a minute, “I’m sorry— I love you— I’ll never leave— I never should have left— I was stupid— I was wrong— I want you— I need you—I’m never leaving— I’m staying— I’m staying.”
Try hearing them say all the same things right back.
Try letting them lower you slowly down, stilettos tapping gently on the floor.
Try sucking in a breath as they get down on one knee.
Try laughing through the tears as you say, “Sorry, but I’m already married.”
You’ll have an enraptured audience. You’ll have something they can’t look away from. You’ll have a show worthy of any Vegas stage.
You’ll have love.
