Apologies, Glances And Messed Up Chances

      I take my seat. For what I hope is the last time, I'm on this flight, heading back to people I usually try not to think about and places I usually try not to remember. I was at the gate early this time, which is great; it means I can choose my own seat. I pick the window seat. I always do. It's right over the wing; the flight is smoother there.

         After I buckle my seat belt – never hurts to do it early – I look to the front of the plane. This girl is walking down the aisle; I don't know why but I can't help but watch for a moment. She's cute –  a short brunette with cherry-red cheeks, and as she comes closer I notice the ice-blue eyes shining out from her face.

         And of course she's sitting next to me. She slips into the seat next to mine, the one on the aisle –  just in time, too, as the flight attendant has already started the safety instructions. I don't listen to them anymore; I could probably  give the instructions myself if they needed me to. Today, though, I have a reason to not pay attention.

         “Hi. I'm Patrick.” I hold out my hand.

         “Courtney.” She returns the handshake, smiling.

         “So why are you flying to Washington?” It seems the sort of small talk to make on a plane. As she answers, I feel that swoop in my stomach that must be the plane taking off.

         “I'm going to see my dad.” Her smile freezes just a bit. “He should probably know I'm graduating before I do ... It'll be weird, I'm absolutely terrified, but family is family.” Then, awkwardly, she changes direction. “You?”

         I usually try not to tell my story, but for some reason today I do. “My grandfather's in the hospital. He hasn't been doing well ... there's not much time. Family's family, like you said. I fly out there every so often to be there.”

         Courtney smiles again, warming me to the depths of my soul. “Nice of you.”

         And like that we're airborne, soaring across the sky, getting to know each other. It's nice, really.

         --

         Somewhere around the Mississippi, there is a moment. We're starting to run out of things to talk about; the silences are growing longer and louder. It's during one of these silences that we happen to catch each other’s eyes; it's then that I feel my heart stutter. We look at each other for maybe two seconds before she glances away, blushing. I'm sure I am too, as I look out the window.

          Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I think – and I reach out and take her hand. Her head snaps back toward me; she looks alarmed as she gently pulls her hand away. We don't talk for the rest of the flight, although I catch a nervous glance from her once or twice. I resign myself to staring once again out the window for two long hours.

         I feel the bump of the plane touching down. Courtney looks at me a bit wistfully – the first time she's really looked at me since I tried to take her hand – as we reach the end of the runway, but busies herself with something in her carry-on . I don't know what she's doing, but it takes her until we're at the gate. Finally, she pulls out a piece of paper and holds it tightly to her chest.

         The flight attendants tell us we can get up and leave. She's on the aisle, so I have to let her leave ahead of me. I smile apologetically at the back of her head as we walk into the jetway. I know she'll never see the smile, but it makes me feel better. I let her get farther ahead in the terminal, so I can maybe sneak away. I almost make it – I'm past the baggage claim and nearing the door when I hear her from behind me.

         “Patrick!”

         She's caught up to me. Standing on her toes, she kisses my cheek and presses something into my hand. “Sorry for freaking out on the plane. I'm just worried, so  ... thanks for taking my mind off of that.”

         “You're welcome,” I reply automatically, but I don't get the chance to apologize too. I wish I did.

         “Looks like my ride's here,” she says a bit sadly. “I should go.”

         I watch her for a moment, then I look down to see what's in my hand; it's obviously the piece of paper from the plane. I read it there in the middle of the airport. After I do ... I can only smile.