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“This is the darkness before the dawn, as they say. They didn’t hurt you last night. I’m sure new opportunities are just around the corner, and I know Maman will embrace you like a daughter.” I feel his warmth as his smile burns away the clouds.
ChapterFifteen
First impressions matter. Experts say we size up new people in somewhere between 30 seconds and two minutes.—Elliott Abrams
JL
Micki spendsthe flight typing on her computer. She dragged out her computer as soon as we were told we could turn on electronic devices. She swore under her breath when meals were served and scowled as the cabin attendants passed by without picking up her tray.
Some report for work. She snapped when I asked about it. She wasn’t kidding when she warned me that work comes first. I’m hoping to change her mind.
Now, laptop stowed, nose pressed to the glass, she looks down on Vancouver Harbour as the plane rushes toward the airport. Her silken blond hair sweeps back and forth across her shoulders. The scene unfolds as we soar over the Canadian landscape, a perfect blend of tall buildings, green space, and water, surrounded by mountains.
I can’t keep my hands to myself, running my fingers up and down her back, enjoying the feel of her quivering muscles respond to my touch, wish I could stroke cool, velvet skin.
She never takes her eyes off the view out the window as we begin our descent. I’d forgotten this is her first trip abroad and her second time crossing the Atlantic. She rocks back and forth with excitement. The window seat gives her the perfect ringside view.
In the meantime, I’ve been questioning my decision to bring her. Two messages from Maman have reminded me of the “surprise.” And although I told Micki Maman will love her, that might be wishful thinking on my part. I could have arranged for security back to Chicago. GSU will provide security here too, although not as heavy since I will be part of the team. While I want her to meet Maman, the main reason for my visit is to do something about my hoser uncle, like move the salopard out of Maman’s house. Maybe not the best introduction.
We have a sudden drop and her breath catches, she reaches for my hand and squeezes the hell out of it. I wince but don’t disengage. Anxiety rolls off her like high surf.
“Do you think something’s wrong?” A verbal tremor betrays her fear.
Still letting her try to crush my hand, I slip the fingers of the other under her chin and turn her face toward me. “These dips happen. If something was wrong, either a cabin attendant or the captain would come on and tell us.” Then I give her a kiss to concentrate on.
Not so successful because as soon as we separate, she asks, “What if they don’t want us to panic so they’re keeping quiet?”
Her flight anxiety is a surprise. She’s flown many times in the U.S., so I assumed she was a seasoned pro. I lean forward and touch my lips to her temple. “Believe me, if something was wrong, we would be told how to prepare.” In the meantime, the plane is back on an even keel as we smoothly come closer to landing. She looks back through the window.
“What do you think? Is my hometown beautiful?”
“I thought it would look more like Chicago,” she mutters, “But it’s impressive.” Her blue eyes sparkle and it’s like drowning in an ocean of stars.
“Very different terrain,” I tell her. “Flying over the harbor is not like looking at Lake Michigan. Except, they both have very tall buildings near the water.”
“How about the airport? Should I expect an O’Hare-type environment? Or De Gaulle? Every big airport is kind of O’Hare to me—crowded, long distances to reach gates, just all hassle.”
“We’ll go through passport control, then customs. Not sure how long that will take. I’ve arranged for a rental car so we will have wheels while visiting Maman.
“More of a driving city, then?”
“Yes. Also, they do random luggage checks here. If they ask to open yours, just go with it. They aren’t singling you out for a reason.”
“Does your mom live near the water?”
“Not too far. You’ll see when we arrive.”
* * *
Micki
My feet feel as if I’ve walked The Proclaimers five hundred miles by the time we reach baggage claim at Vancouver International Airport. It’s is filled with nervous travelers, watching suitcases roll down the chute and come around on the conveyor belt. Fingers crossed their belongings haven’t been lost en route. Everyone ready to pounce when they see their case. Since most of them are black, that can be a challenge.
I can’t help looking around, as if Sam will jump out a me like a clown in a fun house. Relieved he didn’t show up in Paris, somehow Vancouver seems more reachable.
My ears plugged, I’m dizzy from the flight. Everything looks a little distorted and I hover as close to the chute as I can get, waiting for my beat-up maroon bag to sail out. JL offers to grab it for me, but I shake my head no. Establishing control is my priority. If I let him do everything, I won’t be able to take care of myself once we go our separate ways. I try to make myself believe this can last, but my heart has a hard time convincing my brain.
An ache rises at the thought of not being together. The more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend.
