Something light needs to be said to keep us from sinking. We have more than now, I believe we will have a future. I say, “When you come visit me, I must warn you that I am housekeeping challenged. I get lost in my art and I don’t see clutter.” Actually, I am much worse than that, but I refuse to out my true self in this moment. I need to be more sure of him before I unleash my most difficult aspects.
He smiles. “Yeah, I remember what your room looked like that summer.”
What? He’s never seen my room and then I realize he’s talking about my room at Auntie Ji An’s. That summer refers to my thirteenth summer. Oh gosh. I had forgotten the morning he walked into that room. I had thrown myself into a barrage of art projects to cope with the instability of my family. At the time I looked up at him dazed by his beautiful presence in my room, just like I had imagined a hundred thousand times. Only in my imagination my hands weren’t blue and caked in paste, there was not ripped and torn construction paper scraps on the floor, or beads, or glitter or sequins or pipe cleaners or crayons. The floor wasn’t even visible. A terrible heat of embarrassment shot through me as he silently surveyed the room. I feel the same heat coming over me now.
His laughter rings out. “You were so precious sitting there with your sticky hands and what looked like a tornado of art supplies. I thought you were the cutest thing I had ever seen. I still think that.”
His words comfort me in that deep vulnerable place that defies the rules of order. I lean over and kiss his cheek. I can taste the salt of that single tear.
Too soon, the airport looms in the distance. I feel tears start to clog my throat. I push them down. I will not make a scene. It isn’t like we won’t see each other again but is going to be awhile, along while. Spring Break he might be able to come visit, but we aren’t sure yet. It depends on so many things that I can’t think about right now. At least there will be Summer and six weeks of together, maybe more. Only time will tell.
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Hae-in parks. To my dismay planes are landing and taking off. I know it is wrong of me to wish a flight delay for my own selfish reasons, but that knowledge doesn’t stop me from wanting it. I have however stopped praying for a delay. Prayers that create problems for others are not prayers, but selfish wishes. We get out. Hand in hand we walk into the airport. Time seems to be streaming fast. Soon, I will have to release the hand in mine. Soon, I will be going through security and getting on a bus. Now, now I am here, but now is slipping away so fast I can scarcely breathe. I am being a baby. No, my heart protests, I am leaving the one I love and it hurts.
We go as far as we can together and then we stop. For a moment we just stare at each other frozen where we are. It takes everything I have in me not to curl around him. We both sigh. My thoughts flit to last night. I look up at him. He is remembering too. He leans over and tenderly kisses me. This is good bye, for now, not forever. I hug him one last time and head for security. I turn after I am checked in. He is still there. I blow him a kiss and he catches it. With silent tears falling I make my way to the waiting area. I can’t see him anymore.
*
The flight home is a eternal. I open my phone and look through the pictures Hae-in and I have taken together over the last two weeks. His arm is around me, he is smiling. I see his gratitude for me. I see the way he looks at me. Jason never looked at me like that. Never.
Once again, I remind myself, I will see him again, unless he is in a car accident or has a secret deadly health issue. My imagination is about to go terror wild. I stop it. I tell myself, Don’t. Chin up. Good things do happen. It will be okay. I don’t know if any of that is true, but I do know trying to out distance fear is challenging. I can dwell on all the terrible possibles and let them harm me, or I can release these fears and choose hope and trust. For me it is never an easy battle. I struggle the entire next 20 hours. By the time I land I am exhausted.
My brother is there to pick me up. He gives me big hug when he sees me. His arms are strong and protective. I start crying and he holds me. Finally, I settle down and he leads me to his Mustang.
As usual he drives too fast. I grip the seat and pray I don’t get killed, maimed or injured. When he pulls into my parking lot, I grab my carry on and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks Bro.”
“Welcome Izzie.” He smiles and pulls away. He didn’t ask me a single question, nor did we have what could be considered a conversation, but as always we connected.