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“Jasmine?” the woman asks, lowering her huge designer sunglasses.
“Maria?” I reply. Astonished.
And a little more than red-faced.
“Feels a little lighter since I last saw it,” she quips, and reaching for an identical piece of luggage, she hands mine back to me.
She looks thinner than last I saw of her.
If that’s at all possible. Some people just never gain weight. I need to deal with it.
But stranger than that, she seems happy enough to bump into me at the airport. She says hi and bye after I accuse her of trying to take the bag that belongs to her anyway.
Except for today, it’s not stuffed with money.
“Maria. Wait!” I call after her.
She has a scarf over her head and those huge glasses on. If it hadn’t been for the suitcase connection and the fact she knows who I am, I wouldn’t have recognized her.
“Give my best to Rocco,” she says politely, and making sure she stays a few steps ahead, I get the message and let myself fall back into the growing crowd.
I almost forget about it completely once I see Rocco and the kids and their grandparents waiting for me.
I forget about Maria and the suitcase, for now, shuffling into a short sprint to hug my babies.
To kiss my man, hold him close, and promise them all I’m never leaving them alone again.
“Mom, you were gone forever,” Max remarks dryly, pushing his glasses back up his nose before he rolls his eyes at his dad, exaggerating the fact I was only gone a day. Asking if he and grandpa can do something worthwhile.
Like, go get some ice cream.
“Sure,” I chime at the same time Rocco agrees, handing his Papa Emma, our two-year-old, and a little cash to Max, instructing all of them to take grandma and grandpa and go get some cones for us all.
“You weren’t getting that suitcase on your own?” Rocco asks, shifting his mock-serious voice for an actual serious one once he senses my mood.
“Honey, what is it?” he asks, putting his arm around mine and walking me over to a bench by the baggage area.
But I don’t need to sit down.
“Is it the tests? Is it the results?” he asks, looking worried again, but I shake my head.
“No, it’s not that… everything… well. We can get to that,” I say, gnawing at my lip.
“I just ran into Maria Portello,” I tell him. Rocco looks a little taken aback but reminds me it’s not impossible to see the same person more than once in your life.
I explain her sudden appearance and the fact she still has the same luggage set, minus the suitcase we have.
That little part of our own story where she gave us a suitcase full of money?
But Rocco doesn’t even blink.
“Tell me about the tests, sweetie. You’re giving me indigestion,” Rocco says calmly but firmly, reminding me how he doesn’t like waiting for news. He just needs to hear it.
Good or bad.
“It’s….”
“Chocolate or vanilla?” shouts Papa Martinelli right by my ear. And I watch Rocco’s face twist with frustration as his dad drowns me out.
