White Out

The airport was snowed in. That’s why I didn’t get to her house in time.

Keep in mind that my plane had landed four hours earlier, and there was now only one shuttle going to the city. It was the only bus that could tough out the miserable cold, but even it hadn’t come back in over an hour. Nobody had heard from it either way; this was long before cell phones. And even still, I tried calling a few times from a payphone. Nothing. I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have called her before I left.

Jason asked me where I was going. The truth sounded stupid, so I lied. A half-truth.

“Family reunion,” I told him.

He laughed, said I was better off not going at all. I doubted that very much. Some people see their families every day, some don’t.

The snow came down even harder.

Jason said it wouldn’t be a problem to drive me to the city, but that he wanted to wait for his wife’s plane first. I tell you, not a single thing had come down that runway since my flight; but he wanted to wait. Two trips through that storm would be a waste, he said. I only met him that one time, so I can’t fault him for not taking me. It’s not like I could have paid him back. Everything I owned paid for my ticket here.

In my wallet was a picture that I’d managed to find of her. It was from about ten years ago, so I tried to imagine what her hair might look like now, if she still had those glasses. I wondered about the man standing next to her.

An announcement came over the intercom. “Flight 320 from Seattle now delayed until further notice,” it said, and then repeated.

“That’s your wife’s flight,” I said, with a slight nudge to my voice.

“Sure is,” Jason said. “Hell of a storm, huh? Hell of a storm.”

I looked out the large glass windows into the endless blanket of white.

Somewhere out there was a woman that I’d never met but wanted nothing more than to see for perhaps the only time.