Page 5 of Aron
Jesse
I look down at my wrist. This time the expensive gold watch my father gave me when I graduated medical school is there. It’s nearly two o’clock. I’m standing at the side of the stage. A man I’ve never met is introducing me to a crowd of other doctors like we’ve been friends since birth. Lamenting my achievements. Making me out to be the second coming of Jesus Christ. But, even though this is the whole reason I flew out here in the first place, I can’t seem to focus on the task at hand.
I walk out onto the stage with my hand in the air, graciously accepting the unearned applause. I smile dutifully. I ruffle the papers before me. Hearing the first words of the first line of the first paragraph in my head before I speak them. Paying attention to my heart rate. Breathing in deep through my nose, and calming myself down, so I can give the best possible speech. But, instead of that first line coming out my mouth, instead of those words I’ve said out loud in the mirror at least a hundred times since I wrote them, I say, “I’m sorry.”
Just that. Nothing else. No explanation. No thank you for having me. Just a quick I’m-sorry and a nod of my head and then I’m jumping off of the podium and running towards the exit.
People shout after me. Some of them laughing. Other’s angry. But none of that matters.
Bursting through the door to the hotel, I sprint towards the nearest taxi. There’s a middle-aged couple still in Hawaiian shirts about to step forward and take it, but I push in front of them. “It’s an emergency,” I say, opening the door and leaping into the back seat.
“The airport,” I say to the driver, “and put your foot down.’
He turns his head slowly and looks at me. I swear, his eyes literally roll. He’s a thick-set man with heavy stubble. The kind of person that wakes up and shaves and needs to shave again an hour or two later. “This ain’t the movies,” he says. “We’ll get there when we get there.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out all the money I have. It’s a few hundred dollars. Not much, but enough to light up his eyes and make him interested.
“Here.” I pass them through the glass. “Now come on, we’re wasting time.”
5
Willa
I close my eyes and think back to this morning. Laying in bed with Aron. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.
Now, I’m standing in line to board a plane back home. There’s a family of five in front of me. The little boy is pulling at the mother’s skirt asking to go to the toilet. The father has his five-year-old daughter on his hip. He’s pointing off somewhere in the distance and talking to her in a low, conspiratorial whisper. Every now and then she bursts into adorable little giggles and happy squeals. The baby is in the stroller. Her mother gently rocking it back and forth as she tells her son that he’s just going to have to wait until they get on the plane because they can’t go back now otherwise they’ll miss their flight and he should have said something half an hour ago when they asked him if he needed the pee-pee.
“But I didn’t need to go then,” he says, drawing his words out in long, whingey cadences. Hopping from foot to foot like he’s about to have an accident.
“I’m sorry, Jason, there’s nothing I can do. Try thinking of something else.”
Normally, I might not notice a scene like this. But, now it’s different. I can’t help but imagine I’m the mother and Aron’s the father. I start wondering what our children would look like. What their personalities would be like. What it would feel like to wake up every morning with him beside me. The warm glow of love I feel in my heart right now, there all day, every day, for the rest of my life.
The people in front of the family get their tickets ripped in half and start walking towards the plane. We all half shuffle forward. Our hand luggage on the ground by our feet.
The artist part of my brain thinks back to the long, sharp lines of Aron’s body. It’s a gift and a curse, having such a visual mind. All I have to do is close my eyes and it’s like I can reach out and touch him.
“Willa!”
I hear my name being shouted out behind me, but I don’t bother to turn around. I must be mistaken. It’s not a particularly common name, but that doesn’t mean anything. I probably misheard. Someone shouting, “see ya,” or “will ya” or “kill her!”
“Willaaaaaaaa!”
This time, it really does sound like my name… and it’s getting closer.
I turn around, still half expecting to find out it’s nothing to do with me, and see Aron rushing across the airport. Running towards me.
He’s wearing a dark, perfectly fitting suit, and my heart jumps into my throat at the sight of him. I realize this is the first time I’ve seen him dressed, and boy does he clean up nice.
“Aron?” I say, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be giving your speech?”
He stops right in front of me. Barely out of breath, even though he was just sprinting. “Yes,” he says, “no… I don’t know.” he takes my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. “All I know, is that… I got up there, and I realized I was in the wrong place. That, you were here, about to fly out of my life forever. And that I couldn’t let that happen.”
“What are you talking about?”
The family have been checked in and the flight attendants are beckoning me forward. A busy-looking man in a business suit beside me clucks loudly. His face scrunched up like a wrinkled scrotum.
I step out of the line. I don’t even care if I miss my plane. Whatever Aron has to say is more important.
