The warm breeze blew through the open window of the taxi, as I rested my head against the seat, my eyes closed. Licking my bottom lip, I focused on the rumbling sounds of oncoming traffic, as the lulls of pedestrians drowned through my heavy heart. Clenching my hands against the seat, feeling the thick, course leather stab into my palms, an image of a smiling James clouded my mind.
"You know, I came to this city when I was just a little younger than you." The driver's voice broke through my thoughts, as I jerked up, staring at him through the front mirror. "I came all the way from Nepal. I'd left my mother, my sisters, and my fiancé, promising to bring them with me some day. New York certainly is the best city, wouldn't you agree ma'am?"
The man, who I now noticed had the greyest eyes I'd ever seen, smiled warmly at me, his thin lips curled upwards. I tilted my head, pressing a finger against my temple, for my head throbbed, as I looked over his bright green t-shirt that said "I love NY" in a heart at the center of his frail chest. His face was so young, much younger than mine, as a childlike spirit rested at the apples of his brown cheeks. But the fine grey at the top of his thinning black hair, gave away his age, which I imagined would be in the mid-forties.
I sighed. "I haven't seen all the cities in the world, so I couldn't say. Maybe Nepal would be a better home than here. Actually, anywhere would be better than here."
He laughed joyously- the bright rays casting a luminescent glow over his face, as he shook his head in a knowing way.
"I take it that the city has hurt you, ma'am," he said. "Or perhaps, a friend has. But I assure you, give New York another chance. There is magic along every road, believe me, for I have seen such magic myself."
I smiled. "You're very intuitive. What magic have you seen?"
His fingers tapped the steering wheel as though playing a musical note on a piano, as his cloudlike gaze stared wondrously at the road. For a moment, I wanted to see what he saw. There was this inevitable warmth about him, that I found myself wondering whether he'd ever been hurt like I was.
Did his fiancé ever break his heart?
"I'm an old man, and old men can't remember much," he said. "But what I do recall, is seeing Soraya's face light up like a million stars when I brought her to our first home, back in 1982, when the city was a rush of noise."
"Soraya...that's a beautiful name. Is she your wife?"
He glanced at me through the mirror, before adjusting the forest green pine freshener dangling off the center. Sending me a stiff smile, he placed both hands on the steering wheel once more, his shoulders slouched.
I frowned, feeling a bit worried that I had offended him.
"She was," he said.
The light from glass reflected off his solemn eyes, as he stared at the road with a faraway look, as though recalling a painful memory.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to pry—"
"Don't be silly, ma'am," he said. "I am flattered when passengers take an interest in my otherwise boring life. Soraya and I lived, laughed, and loved, for thirteen years. She was and still is- my everything. Without her, I would be nowhere. She knew me in a way that no one else ever could. As the years went by, my love for her kept growing, for I learned something new about her every day. She grew more beautiful each day as well. There were times I thought that I'd been given a love potion, because everything about her, mesmerized me. Her laugh, her stubborn will, the way she smiled when watching a movie, the way her finger casually slipped back a hair behind her ear."
His voice carried on a note of its own, as he spoke of his lady love, recalling memories of the life they'd shared. I couldn't help but smile- a hot chill pressed against my heart, as I stared out the open window. Inhaling the misty gust, I leaned my head against the leather seat, watching the small drops of rain tumble onto the pavement. The cool drops whisked against my face, as I crossed my hands in my lap, staring at the grey clouds rumble against the smoky sky.
"Soraya is a lucky woman," I said.
He laughed warmly.
"I am the lucky one," he informed. "But unfortunately, my time with her was not meant to be."
"Why is that?"
I glanced at him, my brows furrowed together. My heart clenched, as I gave him a sad stare, worried that his wife had passed too soon, or that she was in a coma. Perhaps, she had to return to Nepal for an urgent reason, or maybe, she had somehow vanished.
"She left me for another," he said. "It's my fault, really. I was so busy with working three shifts, that I had neglected what she needed the most...me. The kids were a handful as well. She was unhappy for the longest time, and I had not a clue. A few months after our divorce, I found a letter in her name, sent to me. My Soraya was a clumsy woman, and she misplaced things often. There were days that she'd forget the car keys inside the laundry basket, and other days, where her lipstick would be floating inside the toilet. When I saw that letter, when I held it in my hands, I could almost smell her fragrance. Her fingerprints were on the edge of that sealed envelope, the marks which I have kept for all these years. That letter still rests in the bottom drawer where I'd found it. It has yet to be opened."
I pressed a hand against my chest, feeling a lump rest in center of my heart, as my eyes began to sting. A single tear escaped my lids, and as he snapped his gaze to mine, I looked away, wiping the liquid against my cheek.
"Why do you still love her?" I asked quietly. "She left you for someone else, and you've done nothing but love her all your life, so how can you still feel such strong emotions for someone that just doesn't care?"
He exhaled a deep sigh, his eyes lingering on mine as though trying to speak to me through silent words.
But all I could hear was James's low chuckle simmering in the depths of my mind. I glared at my palms, clenching them over my lap, my knuckles pushing into my ruby red skirt.
"Soraya gave me the happiest years of my life," he said. "For that, I am grateful. She may not be with me physically, but in my soul, she lives."
I pursed my lips, hesitating.
"You should go meet her," I said. "I have a feeling she misses you just as much."
He adjusted the mirror, before stopping the car in front of the airport entrance. Cars upon cars piled across the road, as people walked out of lemon yellow taxis, dragging their suitcases over the grey pavement.
"The last I'd met her was five years ago, just a week before she passed," he said. "We spent the afternoon in her garden, drinking tea, listening to her talk until the sun dipped. She was very ill, and the doctors had given up hope. As for me...spending those hours with her felt as though I'd lived my entire life in one day. You should have seen her...she was the happiest she could have been. Her life was just as I'd thought it would be, full of light."
I slid to the end of the seat, dragging my bulky brown luggage, as I opened the door with one hand. I closed the door, my palm gripped over the handle of the luggage, walking towards the passenger window.
"I'm glad you got to meet her and I'm sorry for your loss," I said. "I really appreciate you telling me your story. It's nice to know that good people like you still exist. Um...my wallet is in my luggage. Just give me a moment please."
He smiled. "Take your time, ma'am."
I returned his smile, crouching down, and unzipping the front pocket of my luggage. As I pulled out the small, navy blue wallet, the rush of footsteps perked my ears. The strong scent of cologne, like that of Armani, hit my senses, as I snapped my head up, gaping.
"I'll pay for her," said Richard, bending towards the open window. "Ten dollars I presume?"
Gripping the wallet, I quickly zipped the luggage, shooting up, and staring wide-eyed at Richard.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded. "Were you following me? And please, don't accept his money, sir! I can pay my own fare—"
"Don't listen to her," Richard said, leaning down, staring eye level at the driver. "Bye. You can go now."
"Now wait just a moment!" I snapped.
"It was a pleasure speaking to you, ma'am," the driver called. "Farewell."
As I walked around Richard, rushing to get to the window, the cab sped on. I gripped my wallet in my palm, watching with a heavy heart, as the car drove through the street, disappearing into the misty road ahead.
"I didn't even ask his name," I whispered.
"What? Did you say something?" Richard's voice chirped through my musing, as I turned towards him, glaring.
"Nothing," I said. "What are you doing here? And...how did you know I was here? I don't like being followed--"
"I wasn't following," he said. "I just noticed you getting into that cab, and you looked really disturbed. I was worried, that's all. And, I'm presuming you're heading to your home state?"
I sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted.
Walking around him, my palms circled over the cool handle of my luggage, dragging it towards the airport entrance. Richard followed, staring worriedly at me. I noticed, for a moment, that he'd changed from his formal attire, to a casual white polo shirt, and blue jeans. My lips pursed, as I realized that this was the first time he was dressed like he was going to the Laundromat rather than a business meeting.
"You've presumed correct," I said. "I'm going back to Sandsville. Alone."
Richard said nothing, as we walked through the opening double doors, the ceiling light of the airport streaming through the crowded room. I craned my neck to the side, noticing rows of heads lined on their desired airlines, conversing as they waited until their turn to book a ticket came.
My eyes searched for the airline to Ohio, and when I spotted it, at the farther end of the wide room, I sighed.
This was it. I was leaving New York. Leaving James.
A soft hand rested over mine, curling over my fingers that gripped the handle. I snapped my head towards Richard, pulling my hand out of his. Sliding the luggage to my side, I turned, facing him.
"I'm going with you," he said. "This is what James asked for. He wanted me to go in his place, so I'm going—"
"James is nothing but a liar," I snapped. "He made it all up. He wasn't sick. He just didn't want to go with me. He...no, never mind. It's nothing. The point is, I'm going home alone. Can you respect that?"
Across his features, was a thoughtful guise, as the light streaked over his silky brown locks, giving his hair- a chocolate luster.
"You're really pissed at him," said Richard. "What did he do?"
"It doesn't matter what he did. I'm...I'm taking a short leave."
We stood in silence, but soon, the air between us grew awkward, as I diverted my gaze at my airline ahead. Sending him a curt nod, to which I hoped he interpreted as "goodbye", I walked ahead. The wheels of my luggage gargled against the smooth, white ground, as I stood behind a rather tall, voluptuous woman, who stood with her back to me. She was, perhaps, six feet in height, her thick strawberry blond locks, twirled into a high bun behind her large head.
"Dorothy," Richard's voice called from behind. "How long is this leave?"
There was a kind of sadness in his voice, a kind of tear filled longing, as the deep tremor in his tone quivered just slightly.
I had the faint urge to turn, but didn't, as the woman ahead of me walked forward. She was speaking in a thick Greek accent to the airline personnel behind the desk, explaining her flight details with exaggerated hand gestures.
"That doesn't concern you," I replied. "Please...just go—"
His hand gripped over my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, as though attempting to comfort me. I breathed evenly, shaking out of his touch, and whipped my head to the side, glaring.
"Don't touch me!" I snapped. "You're just as rotten as James! Both of you, you're just...cruel. How can you play with people's emotions like this? You're giving me all this attention, trying to capture my interest, and I know it's all a game. You're playing a sick, twisted game with me, and I can't stand it! Just leave me alone! Both of you brothers are horrible, and neither of you have any right to play with my emotions like this! So just get lost!"
The last part escaped from my lungs in an explosive yell, as I panted, my eyes beginning to glaze. The woman before me, along with the people who stood in the aisle beside me, stopped to stare. They gave me pointed looks, and then, turned their focus on Richard, eyeing him coldly. In that moment, these strangers had made up their own story about me in their minds, deciding that I was a victim of some sort.
But I was a fool, rather than a victim. A silly, little fool who had signed off a piece of her heart to a man that possessed no heart. I had known exactly what I was getting into when I married him, I had signed a contract, clearly stating that we were never to fall in love, yet it was I, that had. Perhaps, James wasn't to blame. Perhaps, I was.
The images of James in bed with that other woman- smiling at her, as he would at me, clouded over my mind, piercing through my lungs, as I sobbed out a cry. Like a fool, I stood in line, crying as if no one were watching.
But everyone was.
I didn't care.
"Darlin', it's okay." A woman from the aisle beside me- passed a tissue, her soft brown eyes staring kindly at me. "Breakups are a part of life. It only means that someone better will come along. Why, a girl like you doesn't come along often."
My shoulders felt heavy, as I took the tissue from her hands, wiping it under my cheeks. The middle aged woman, whose thick auburn locks were a few shades darker than mine, smiled once more, the bright pink of her lipstick reminding me of cotton candy. Plastic, round, white glasses, like something out of the 1970's, framed her small face, as a braid rested over her tie-dye t-shirt.
"You're very kind," I told her. "But I don't think I want anyone else to come along. I'm kind of done with love, or anything resembling it."
Thankfully, I'd been assigned the window seat.
My elbow pressed against the arm rest, as I leaned against the soft seat, staring at the cloudy sky. The plane had not yet taken off, as people were still entering, placing their duffle bags into the top compartments.
"Enjoying the view?"
My heart pulsed, as I recognized the deep voice, knowing exactly who it belonged to. I swallowed a deep breath, my chest heaving, as I slowly turned to the side, my eyes widening in horror.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I snapped. "I can't believe this! Get off this plane right now!"
Richard shot me an irritated look, shaking his head as though I were insane. Ignoring my reproach, he took the seat beside me, turning on the small, square T.V. attached to the back of the chair before him.
"I'm taking a vacation," he replied. "Last time I checked, I was allowed to take vacations wherever I pleased. Besides, you don't own Ohio—"
"And last time I checked, you're a complete psychopath," I retorted. "We both know why you're going to Ohio."
He adjusted into his seat, attaching the complimentary airline earphones into the side of the arm rest, raising a brow.
"Now, Dorothy, you're being a little harsh, aren't you?" he teased. "I'm not completely psychopathic. Maybe, a little bit, but not completely. And why do you think I'm going to Ohio?"
I exhaled an exhausted sigh, as a flight attendant approached, asking us to put on our seatbelts. Glaring at him, I snapped on my belt, frustrated that he was doing the same.
Why couldn't he just leave?
"You're obviously going so you can irritate me," I snapped. "I told you that I don't want you, or anyone there! I would like to be alone, Richard. Do you get what the word 'alone' means, or do I have to define it for you?"
He yawned, stretching his muscular arms over his head, before shooting me a sheepish smile. As another flight attendant passed, she stopped for a moment, to stare at him, then at me. Then, for a reason unknown to me, she gave me a thumbs up, as if to say, 'you're so lucky to have such a handsome guy like him annoy the living hell out of you.'
Or something like that.
Feeling frustrated, I gave the flight attendant a pointed look, to which she blushed, scurrying away. Richard's brows rose, as he shot me a confused look, before turning to watch the woman walk away. He returned his gaze to me, the corner of his lips turning upwards to a sly smirk.
"The way you're glaring at that flight attendant, I'd say you look jealous," said Richard.
I scoffed. "No way! Are you insane? I mean, how could I be jealous—"
I paused, as a rush of a memory hit the soft point of my heart, momentarily fogging my mind. I recalled moments from over a month ago, where James had accused me of being jealous over some woman at a gyro stand.
I smiled.
"You're smiling," Richard noted. "Something funny?"
I shook my head, twisting my smile into a frown, as I turned my head to the side, staring out the window.
"It's nothing," I lied. "Listen, Richard...I don't know what you're trying to do here, but it's not going to work. I don't know how long I'll be in Sandsville, but as long as I'm there, I need everything that reminds me of James, to be out of my life. At least until I figure things out. You understand, right?"
A deep silence passed, as the piercing sounds of the plane screeched through my ears, popping them as we ascended towards the open sky. Turning my gaze towards Richard, I sighed in frustration, annoyed that somehow, he had managed to fall asleep. His thick brunette head dangled to the side, threatening to slip off the edge.
Fearing that he'd fall to the ground, I placed my arm at the side of his temple, adjusting a small, red pillow behind his head. His arms rested over his lap, his broad chest rising and falling, as a serene line pressed over his full lips. Since we were to sit beside each other until the duration of the flight, I was relieved that he didn't snore.
When my eyes fluttered open, I noticed, with a weary mind, that my head was resting on Richard's shoulder. I was so close to him, I could hear the soft rhythm of his breath fanning over my head, trickling into my neck.
"Get up," he whispered. "We're in Ohio, Princess."
Princess?
I snapped my head away from him, jerking my neck against the window, as I slowly turned to stare at him. My heart pulsed rapidly, my hands clenched over my lap, hoping beyond hope that I was just being paranoid.
But as I looked into those familiar golden brown eyes, I knew that they could belong to only one man.