#20997 - 09/07/10 01:26 AM
Re: your story- unplanned meeting
[Re: Maureen]
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Ravenwood
member
Registered: 11/11/08
Posts: 170
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Nonfiction.
My spouse and I were separated. No, not that kind. I was transferred to a town eighty miles distant, and Evelyn stayed in our hometown because of her work and because her aged mother lived there. My position required me to be on call most weekends, so Evelyn did most of the weekend traveling.
We bought a 4x4 for her. A used, but fairly good vehicle. Tires were good, too. I verified that it had a jack and lug wrench. I didn’t verify that the lug wrench fit the lug nuts. Why wouldn’t it? The wrench came with the truck when new.
Unfortunately, the lug nuts hadn’t.
Murphy (you know, he of Murphy’s law) gave the truck a flat while Evelyn was in route. Trying to change the tire, she learned the wrench didn’t fit. Neither did the wrench of the kind gentleman who had just-then stopped. Neither did the wrench of the next good Samaritan. This second gentleman offered to drive her someplace, and he had a cell phone, a rarity back then. She called. I asked a fellow worker to fill in for me temporarily, and I drove toward her position. Hurried toward her position.
Almost two-thirds way there, I met her, sailing along.
......................
Two other vehicles had stopped, their drivers offering assistance, but Evelyn had refused their gesture. Graciously, but adamantly. "My husband will be here soon," she promised. What of the 100 degree heat and the ant bed she had parked atop and her pup needing to exercise, and wouldn't the dog need water?
"I can move forward on the flat tire to clear the ants," she assured. "But, no thank you, the dog and I will be okay." She lifted a styrofoam cup. "I've finished a soft drink, and Tessie... ", she indicated the pup, "can lap the melting ice."
Another vehicle stopped, and its driver heard the same lengthy explanation. He turned his back and began rummaging in the bed of his pickup truck with his hands.
He drawled, “I respect your independence, Ma-am. And I want to respect your request... “
He located the wrench he'd sought, and he lifted the edge of an air compressor with his other arm to free the tool. His words and his movement were a symphony.
"And I wouldn’t want either you or your husband to be upset with me... "
He dropped the tool near the 4x4 and reached back into the pickup for a hydraulic jack.
"It looks like I have what's needed here."
He didn't look into her eyes. He looked to the task he was dropping to his knees to perform.
“I was pretty sure that I would. I have most everything... "
He rolled to his side and slid the jack beneath the axle.
"And I am going to change your tire!”
He did.
He set the flat into the 4x4's back side. Pressed, he declined to give a name. "No Ma-am. You or your husband might attempt to do something unnecessary." He wiped his hands with a shop rag as he motioned Evelyn to proceed on her journey.
Sometimes angels fly. Sometimes they drive farm trucks on a Texas Interstate. Sometimes, they arrive in a sequence of five or more of kindred souls.
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#21000 - 09/07/10 07:16 PM
Re: your story- unplanned meeting
[Re: Ravenwood]
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Maureen
enthusiast
Registered: 08/31/04
Posts: 310
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As always, R. I love your story. I can see Evelyn driving the truck. I can see how independant she is. She was probably just a little annoyed with you. She thought she could fix the tire herself. But then Murphy--we all know him. The strangers, how good people can be. And the last one didn't ask, he just did what he needed to do. Good story and I am sure you would have done the same for anyone in need. And I bet you have. Loved it.
Now here is mine. It is fiction.
Meeting Miss Nora
I looked at the departure and arrival board. Our flight was delayed--again. They said it was the weather. I know how that can hold everything back and I appreciate it, but with two small children, it was getting wearing. Our Allison, age six and four-year- old, Tommy, were getting about to the end of their endurance. Frankly, so was I. My husband, Tom, brought us to the airport three hours ago and left us, having to get to work. I have made this trip many times before, going to visit my mother in Atlanta. She has been planning our visit for a long time. She has tickets for the aquarium, a ball game, swimming and visiting Stone Mountain. The kids love her and Dad very much. If we lived closer God only knows how spoiled Tommy and Allison would be. But then, Tom's parents are the same way. We are a close family.
No telling how long we would have to wait. An elderly lady came in about an hour ago and sat next to us. She was friendly, told us her name was Nora. She was going to visit her son. When she sat down Tommy and Allison were playing with the cards I had remembered to put into our bag. The lady said she
"No, Honey, we are going to see Grandma. This is someone else's Grandma. She and I talked and when the kids got tired of 'war' she taught them how to build a house of cards. Now the flight was still marked 'delayed'.
"Why don't you get yourself a cup of coffee, honey?" she said to me, "The kids will be fine. And take some time for a donut. You need a break." It did not take much talking to get me to do that. The coffee counter was only a few stores away. I got my latte and sat in a booth where I could see the children. The cards were back in the pack and the two of them were listening intently to the lady. She must be telling them a story. I smiled and sipped my coffee.
About twenty minutes later I tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash, somewhat refreshed, and walked back to my children. Nora was telling them about her life as a professional ball room dancer. I could see even at her age, which I guessed to be about seventy, she still had a good body and certainly a dancer's legs. She told them about the cities she had visited and the life she had led.
Then we could see the children were getting bored again and I pulled out some paper and crayons. Nora and I talked a bit. She said she didn't fly much anymore but she had always loved to fly. She hated the train. She didn't say why. Then about twenty minutes later our flight was called. We were asked to line up for boarding. I thanked Nora for her interest in the children. They hugged her goodbye and the three of us walked up the ramp and into the plane. I turned around and waved. Nora smiled and waved back. There was something warm and familiar about her. But I didn't have time to worry about that.
Soon we were in our seats, belts buckled and our thoughts were of my mother, who along with Dad would be waiting at the gate. The kids were settled in and talking excitedly about seeing Grandma and Grandpa. It had been three months since we saw them. "Are you sure that lady in the airport wasn't Grandma?" Tommy asked.
I tried to explain to him where we were going and Grandma would be there. "See," I pulled a picture of my mother from my wallet. "See, this is Grandma."
Tommy took the picture from me. "Yes, that's what I said, That's Grandma." I looked at the small picture. He was right. Nora did resemble Mom a lot.
"What did she tell you when I was drinking my coffee? I asked my son.
"She talked about being a dancer and when she was little," he said.
Allison then came into the conversation. "She told us about when she was little. She said her name wasn't really Nora. She said she had another mother and father when she was little. She almost scared me then," my daughter said.
My mind rushed back over the years to the stories my family told. Something was strangely familiar about this whole scene. Yes, the woman in the airport had the same high cheekbones as my mother. Her eyes were the same grey-blue. What? What was happening here?
Allison said, "She said when she was little she was riding on a train with her father and mother and her sister. She said a woman sitting by them played games with her and her sister to pass the time. That is when I started to get scared."
"What else did she tell you?" I was beginning to get more interested.
"She said when the train finally stopped her father and mother gathered all of the bags together and the woman told the little girl to come with her. She would get her an ice cream cone and wait for her parents and her sister at the station. The little girl, the woman who told us the story, went with the woman and never saw her family again. They were not at the ice cream stand. in fact the women never went for ice cream. Instead she took her right out of the railroad station and put her into a car and drove away. The women said she was her new mother and the man driving the car was her new father. The little girl was only four years old like Tommy. She never saw her parents again. And when she was little she believed what the new mother said, that her mom asked the woman to take her. And they did take her and gave her ice cream when they got to her new home. Miss Nora said she always liked ice cream, but she never went on the train again.
"Was that all she said?' I asked,
"Just that she had another name before that. Her name was Nancy."
I had the rest of the trip to think what to do. "Fasten your seat belts," came the voice over the intercom. The three of us were off the plane. Dad and Mom were waiting and laughing, calling our names. We got the bags and Dad piled us into the car.
"Grandma, we met the nicest lady in the airport." Allison said."Tommy thought it was you."
"Oh, was she pretty?" Mom laughed, putting her hand to her hair. Her blue-grey eyes sparkled. "What was her name?
"Miss Nora," said Tommy.
"But she said her real name was Nancy." Allison piped up.
"Mom," I touched my mother's hand gently. "Mom, I remember the story you told about your family's trip to Chicago by train and your twin sister. Mom, listen, I think I have seen Nancy!
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#21009 - 09/15/10 05:12 PM
Re: your story- unplanned meeting
[Re: Maureen]
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Cyrano
Pooh-Bah
Registered: 12/17/01
Posts: 1733
Loc: San Francisco / Isle of Mull.
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Kelly Shaw had left home before daylight and watched the sun rising over the Oakland Hills as he crossed Golden Gate Bridge on his way to the airport, and while it would be usual for him to listen to the news on the ninety-minute journey he chose instead to listen to a new Bocelli CD which he slipped into the player and drove in a state of bliss.
Virginia Lassita had, too, left home while it was still dark, very dark, and settled back in her airplane seat for the short flight from Seattle to San Francisco and her connection to London. She had arrived in San Francisco feeling unwashed and swollen after an attempt at intermittent sleep and her gums sore from too many cigarettes. She didn’t start smoking until she was thirty seven, prompted by an unhappy marriage, its consequential failure, and the love she still retained in her heart for that difficult man.
The airport felt a little more buzzed than usual but Kelly paid no real attention and, benefitting from many miles journeyed, was able to pass through airport security quickly, having no baggage other than a carry-on case. Once in the lounge he fleetingly checked the departures information board, which informed that Virgin’s flight, V019 was delayed. The letters and numbers ticked over like dominos going down ‘Watch this board for further information’.
The flight had arrived from London early, so Kelly was a little bemused by the delay and simply hazard a guess that a light wouldn’t go out in the cockpit, or the personal entertainment system had mal-functioned, but whatever it was would be sorted out while he enjoyed the comfort of the lounge bar where, with a cup of coffee, he could look out over runway 28 and beyond that, the fresh sparkling San Francisco Bay.
Behind the bar one widescreen HD TV was covering the Giant’s game, while another, tucked into a corner, was tuned into MSNBC. On that screen a massive, densely thick plume of volcano ash could be seen spewing into the sky. Kelly, however, concentrated hard on the screen showing the Giants trailing by one.
Virginia Lassita had the devils own job to find somewhere to smoke. Having a connecting flight left her unable to leave a secure zone, without at least having to go through all the trouble of virtually stripping, removing shoes, belts, anything metal, watches, jewelry…and still the bell sounded, leaving her with arms outstretched while a guard waved a wand over her. She would love a cigarette but opted to drown her obsessive behavior with a drink. A bloody Mary would help. It would help with lots of things, including that she was in mourning. Kind of.
Frank Lassita was dead, doubtless Virginia would hear more at the funeral but for now she just knew he’d died bolt upright at the dinner table a week ago. Frank’s sister, Marlene, had called her. They’d remained friends after she left Frank. Virginia was Frank’s fourth wife, but Marlene had only kept in touch with Virginia, knowing the situation, how impossible Frank could be and, Frank being a workaholic, knew that Virginia had truly loved her brother.
The call came during the night. “Virginia…it’s Marlene. I have some bad news I’m afraid.”
Marlene understood there were a hundred reasons why Virginia might not deeply mourn her brother’s death. There was just one reason why she would. She had tried her damnedest to love him. She never gave up on Frank, just couldn’t live with him. Marlene had watched Virginia struggle like no other. It made them firm friends.
“They’re reporting it might be days before airplanes can cross the Atlantic to Europe.” Virginia said, holding up her bloody Mary toward the TV set in the corner of the lounge.
Kelly was aware the words were spoken behind him. Not intended, he thought, for his ears. An odd thing to speak aloud, he considered, and hardly possible because his own flight was due to leave as soon as the damn light is fixed or he could watch Butch Cassidy for the fiftieth time. Still, he turned his head in the direction of the voice in what he hoped did not appear too nosy a fashion.
“The only flights leaving this terminal are those crossing the Pacific.” She said, positively speaking to him. He smiled, politely, still uncertain that the information being spoken aloud was indeed correct.
“Some volcano has erupted on Iceland, Kelly.” She continued.
“I know you…don’t I….please forgive…”
“Virginia…Virginia Lassiter.”
“Oh my word, Virginia…what a fool. Hello. Good heavens, you look so different!”
“Better, I hope, Kelly.”
“Yes…but yes, of course. My goodness and here is me without my Jenny. She will be so mad. So…so I’ll assume we’re heading in the same direction, yes?”
“You heard?”
“Yes, you know I’m deeply sorry, Virginia…about everything.”
“You and Frank always hit it off together. Not so much us women, right?”
“Marlene told me how hard you tried. We keep in touch. She came to my wedding. Frank couldn’t make it, naturally enough, if I recall you had just left him.”
“Yes, Kelly, I heard…and thanks for including me on photo sharing.”
“And thank you for the card. It was beautiful.”
“She’s a beautiful woman, Kelly.”
“Yes…yes, Virginia, she is. But tell me, how are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, had ten years to get over him…”
“But you never quite did…did you?”
“I’ve not re-married, if that’s what you mean.” She said, glancing at the TV.
“Marlene called me a week ago. He died instantly, she said. Never touched the food in front of him. How old was he…sixty four?”
“Sixty-six on April 16th.”
“You were good to him, Virginia. Frank was not easy to understand. A man’s man I guess. Loved Rugby, booze, his smokes…”
“And when he wasn’t doing any of that, he worked twenty hours a day. Married five years, with him one of those I reckon.”
“Yep, that’s him down pat!”
“He was never bad to me, Kelly. He wasn’t bad to anyone, just difficult to get close to. I thought I could change him, you know, where other’s had failed. Instead he changed me. I’m a virtual chain smoker now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Well, that said, we’ll be lucky to be at his funeral.”
Ten hours later Virginia and Kelly walked back to his car. There would be no flights out of SFO for two days at least, and possibly three. Frank was buried at Northwood cemetery.
Virginia, Kelly and Jenny stood by the headstone a week after his burial.
Virginia held flowers in her hands, she was weeping.
_________________________
For me writing is a national park of underdone thoughts and ideas.
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