Page 3 of Two Chances With You

The woman sighs. “Thank God!”

“Maybe we’ll fly together again someday.”

“Oh, I hope so. It was a real pleasure to speak with you. But are all those stories you told me really true?”

“As true as the fact that you held my hand.” I hold up my right hand and show her the fingernail marks she left.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t think twice.”

The occasional cell phone starts ringing. Nearly everyone stands up to open the overhead bins, pulling down shopping bags full of gifts brought back from America, collections of items that are all more-or-less useless, ready to file up the aisle and reach the exit as quickly as possible. After the hours of sitting, immobilized, in the airplane, where you’re forced to consider the balance of all the years of your life that have passed thus far, we return to the hasty rush ofnotthinking, fake thinking, the race to the last finish line.

“Arrivederci.”

“Thanks, buonasera.”

Flight attendants say goodbye at the airplane door. Then I head down the steps.

Warm wind. September. Sunset, it’s just eight thirty in the evening. Right on time. It’s nice to walk again after an eight-hour flight. We all climb aboard the shuttle bus. I look around at the other passengers aboard. A few Chinese travelers, a big, heavyset American, a young man who hasn’t once stopped listening to one of those Samsung digital audio players that I’d seen all over New York. Two girlfriends on holiday together who are no longer speaking, perhaps thoroughly sick of their extended cohabitation. A happy, loving couple. They laugh, constantly chatting about matters of only minor interest. I envy them or, really, I just enjoy watching them.

My traveling companion, the woman who now knows everything about my life, walks over to me. She smiles as if to say,Well, we made it, didn’t we?

I nod. I almost regret having told her so much. Then I relax as I realize that I’ll never see her again.

Passport check. Here and there German shepherds on short leashes pace nervously back and forth, in search of a modicum of cocaine or grass. Frustrated dogs on endless rounds look up at us with kind eyes, probably exhausted from the relentless training to which they’re subjected.

An immigration officer distractedly glances at my passport. Then he focuses in. He skips a page. Then he turns back and gazes more carefully. My heartbeat accelerates slightly. But then, nothing. I’m of no interest to him. He hands me back the passport, I shut it, and I put it back in my backpack.

I go to the luggage carousel. And then I walk out of the airport, a free man, back in Rome. I spent two years in New York, and it feels as if I left just yesterday.

I walk briskly toward the exit. I cross paths with people dragging their luggage, a guy running breathless to reach an airplane that he may be about to miss. On the other side of the partitions, relatives await someone who doesn’t seem to be arriving. Beautiful young women, still bronzed from the summer, stand waiting for their sweethearts.

“Taxi, do you need a taxi?” A fake taxi driver comes hurrying toward me, pretending to be the real deal: “I’ll give you a low price to the city.” I say nothing. He realizes I’m not a good prospect and turns away.

I look around. Nothing. No one. How stupid. But of course. What else did I expect? Who am I looking for? Is this why you came back? Then you haven’t understood a thing. I feel like laughing, and I feel like an idiot.

***

“He should have landed by now…”

Concealed behind a pillar, she speaks to herself under her breath. Maybe it’s just to cover the pounding of her heart, which is actually racing at two thousand miles a minute. Then she gathers her nerve. A deep breath, and then she emerges from behind the pillar. “There he is. I knew it, I knew it!” She practically jumps up and down, though both feet remain firmly planted on the floor.

“I can’t believe it…Step. I knew it, I knew it, I was sure he was returning today. I just can’t believe it. Mamma mia, no doubt about it, he’s lost so much weight. Still, he’s smiling. Yes, it seems as if he’s doing well. Can he be happy? Maybe he had a good time living abroad. Too good of a time.

“What’s the matter with me? I let myself get swallowed up by jealousy. After all, what right do I have? None. Well? Look at what a mess I am. Seriously, I’m just a wreck, a complete wreck. I mean, I’m just too happy. Too happy. He’s back, I can’t believe it. Oh my God, he’s looking this way!”

She quickly dodges back around, hiding behind the column. A sigh. She shuts her eyes, squeezing them tight. She leans back, her head resting against the cold white marble, hands splayed against the column. Silence. A deep breath. Exhale. Inhale…Exhale…

She opens her eyes again. At that very instant a tourist walks by, glancing at her in bafflement. She tries to put on a smile in order to reassure him that all is perfectly normal. But it’s not. No doubt about it.

“Oh, crap, he spotted me. I can tell. Oh, God, Step saw me. I’m sure of it.”

She sticks her head out again. No one’s there. Step went by as if he hadn’t seen a thing.

“Oh, of course, what an idiot I am. And after all, what if he had?”

***

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