Chapter 3: William, and Mary

THREE

William and Mary

         At long last, I am home again … to the place where my life began--my native land, the Philippines—the country I have renounced to pledge my allegiance to another: the United States of America.  Yes, the prodigal child goes back home again, wondering what life-altering events await her this time around.

         I feel the belly of the 747 aircraft taxiing to a slow stop and I suddenly feel two conflicting emotions.  Part of me feels rushing out of the plane and getting home as quickly as possible, while another part of me wants to delay everything to prolong my time with William.  Ahh…William—the man who has captured my fascination and infatuated me like a schoolgirl in such a short time. 

         The plane rumbles and convulses slightly as its engines wheeze their last inflated breath.  After a long whistling sound it sighs into silence, as if grateful the long, arduous flight is finally over.  As a frequent traveler, I always appreciate a great and uneventful landing.  The aircraft and the crew deserve a standing ovation for a job well done.  From my window I watch the accordion pleats of the jet way ease forward to mold its mouth against the curve of the aircraft.  The sound of metals clanking and clicking fills the cabin as passengers unbuckle in unison.  To my delight, William stays put, not showing any sign to race the crowd to the finish line.

          “It’s going to be awhile before we start getting off,” he says.  “I’d rather stay seated till the cabin clears up.  What do you think?”

         Can he read my thoughts? “I’m usually one of the last to leave the plane,” I say with a partial lie.  “I hate tripping over legs and bags and suitcases.”

         He smiles, nodding in agreement.  Ah, that smile… gosh, how I miss him already. I can’t believe I’m missing a stranger when there is a husband I left behind and should be missing instead.  I used to.  There was a time when I would miss him terribly even if we were just separated for just a day.  One time at the airport, a woman next to me asked how long Rob was going to be away.  She’d been watching the tearful send-off as if Rob was going to war.  She laughed when I said he was coming back the following day.  “Oh, that’s so sweet,” she exclaimed.  What happened to Rob and me?  Why did we change?  How did he become so unjustly jealous and possessive?  I’ve been nothing but a faithful wife to him in all the years we’ve been married.  Sure, there had been men who tried to change that, but I never succumbed to the lure of any extra-marital affair.  I didn’t want to be any part of my father’s shameful legacy.  I believe in the sanctity of marriage and our “Till-death-do-us-part” vow, but more and more Rob has been making this promise difficult to fulfill.  I understand he’s been under a lot of pressure since his retail business started to suffer, but why take it out on me, especially when I’ve been helping him stay afloat in every way I can?

         William’s voice brings my mind back to the present.  “Do you have a ride home?” he asks.  “A colleague is picking me up.  It’s an Army truck so there’ll be plenty of room for us, and your luggage.

          “Thanks, but my brother lost a coin toss to my sisters, so he’s picking me up,” I say jokingly.  Too bad; how wonderful it would have been if William and I were to ride together all the way to Pampanga.  Another two to three hours in his company would just be fantastic.

          “Just one person? I thought maybe a whole tribe was coming to welcome you.”

          “It used to be that way, but after several homecomings, it became such an ordinary event.  Remember when the Space Shuttle launching used to be such a big deal and everyone watched? Today, most people don’t even know when the shuttles are being launched till they see it on the news.”

          “You’re right.  Unfortunately, I’m one of those people.  I bet I know something that never changes for you though.”

          “Oh yeah? What?”

          “I bet you always know which volcanoes are erupting or will be erupting.””

         I smile coyly, knowing exactly what he means.  “Ah, now you think I’m a psychic?  How can I possibly know?  I’m not a volcanologist like you, and I don’t have the equipment to track seismic activities.”

          ‘You do: the Internet. I’m pretty sure you’re on the subscribers list of the USGS website as well as every major volcano site there is.  And I bet, too, that you get their newsletters on a regular basis.”

          “You’re amazing.  How could you know me so well already?"

          “Simple.  It takes one to know one.  I’ve done it all my life; at least, since the Internet was invented.”

          “Like two peas in a pod?"

         "Like two peas in a pod. . .yes."  He laughs a pleasant rumble like tiny pebbles softly rolling down a smooth mountainside.

         The line has thinned out considerably with just a few more passengers standing behind us.  It’s time to prepare and collect our carryall bags from the compartment bin.  He gets up and retrieves his duffel bag first then sets it down on the empty seat in front of ours.  He reacts vehemently when he tries to pull my bag. “Whoa!  What in the world did you pack in this little bag? Your dresser?” He brings the bag down in one over-dramatic motion as if it were too heavy even for one as muscular as he is.  Yes, I’ve been admiring his forearms since he rolled up his shirtsleeves hours ago.  They look pretty strong—all muscles and sinew.  I’m sure he could carry me in one sweeping movement; and I’m not a skinny girl.

          “And my library,” I say laughing.  “And my art and photography room.”

          “I believe you,” he says, and carefully drops the bag down on the other empty seat. 

         I get up, too quickly I’m afraid, because I immediately feel a jolt in my right knee.  It does that sometimes; hopefully nothing of the arthritic variety.  I hope I don’t start limping.  I want to be able to keep up with him…in case…in case he’d want to stay in contact with me and show me Pinatubo’s devastations himself.  Yeah…dream on, Mary.  Dream on.  This is going to be it.  He’s not going to mess with a married woman.  He’s not that kind.  I’m not either, so, oh, well…it’s been great while it lasted. I hold onto the back of the seat in front of me for balance as I stretch the leg muscles for a moment. 

          “Have you ever been in any seismology center before?” he asks.  His question takes me by surprise.  I wonder how long he’s been thinking about asking me this question. I like it.

          “Yes, in Hawaii and at the Visitors’ Center at Mount St. Helens.”  Please invite me, please, I pray silently.  It would be a total shame if we don’t see each other again, but I would never ask a man first. We start to walk down the narrow aisle without a break in the conversation. 

          “I was thinking… since we share the same obsession, maybe you’d like to come and experience how volcanologists work.

          “Oh, my God, are you serious?”  His invitation is better than anything I’d imagined would happen.  Well, maybe for now.”

          “Of course, I am.  Is that a yes?”

          “Of course, it is.”

          “I could pick you up, if you wish.”

          “Oh, that would be great.  I love it when somebody else does the driving for me.  I still haven’t gotten used to the way people here drive.  Nobody follows traffic rules.”

          “There are traffic rules here?  Just kidding.  I thought foreigners are the only ones scared of driving here.”

          “I’ve been gone for so long, I sometimes feel like a foreigner myself.”

          “I feel that way when I visit my birthplace.  It’s hard for me to comprehend how I could feel like a stranger in a place where I spent the first eighteen years of my life.”  Oh, before I forget—“ He pulls out a tiny pocketbook from his shirt pocket and hands it to me with a pen. “I need your address and phone number, please.”

         I write my sister’s address and phone number where I will be staying then we exchange our normal business cards.  Now that the date is settled, I can relax and look forward to our date.  Relax?  No way!  We still have at least an hour or so before we get through Customs.

         It seems that for the first time in my jet-setting life, the disembarkation is going too fast.  As we say goodbye to the crew on the way out, I wonder if their smiles signify an understanding that there is something brewing between William and me.  I’ve noticed throughout the flight how some of the flight attendants glanced at us with suspicious smiles.

         The sound of our footsteps and wheeled luggage join those of the other passengers’ as the mass of humanity rushes down toward the baggage section.  The wait is long, as usual, but not long enough for me.  Usually I’d be sitting down somewhere, reading while waiting.  Not this time.  I was glad the weak knee has recovered fast so I am able to stay standing up next to William.  It seems that our luggage came too quickly.  His one bag is dwarfed by the two huge boxes I have.  All around the place you can see similar Balikbayan boxes, which characterize returning U.S. expatriates to the Philippines who love to bring gifts.

          “You think you brought enough baggage with you?” he joked.  “It always tickles me when I see all you Balikbayans hauling so many of these boxes when you come back here.”

          “I know.  Actually, I prefer to travel light; but Christmas is coming.  How about you…just one bag?”

          “I was only in Hawaii for two days; and I have most of my stuff in the house.”

          “You’re renting a house here?”

          “USGS does.  There are five of us in the house.  The first one in Zambales was destroyed by Pinatubo.”

         A scandalous thought unbecoming of a married woman seizes my mind.  No privacy at all?  What if we-- Oh, this is just awful what I’m thinking.  God, strike me with your fiercest lightning, right now!

         William signals a porter for service and the guy with the name tag Manuel Royo comes rushing toward us with a big smile.  They love it when an American calls them because they usually give huge tips, and in dollars instead of pesos.  The porter is half William’s size, but the way he handles the boxes, you’d think they’re empty.  William tries to assist, but he refuses.  More work, more dollars that way.

         Manuel stays with us throughout the Customs inspection; no doubt already relishing the thought of a big tip.  I hope he doesn’t get disappointed.  While waiting, I catch William sizing me up once in a while and I wonder if he sees me doing the same thing.  I’ve noticed how much taller he is from what I’ve previously estimated during the flight.
 
         We’re running out of time.  William needs to hurry up and set the date.  I hope he wasn’t just being friendly and polite when he invited me.  People do that.  Let’s get together sometime, they often say, but they never do.  I decide to do something about it.  For the first time in my life, I think I am about to ask a man for a date.  Okay, take a deep breath…here we go—.

          “So, Mary…” he says before I could open my mouth.  “You think maybe we should go ahead and set the date?” His voice soft and smooth like a late night whisper. 

          “Next Saturday at 6:00 pm?” I say without any hesitation.  I don’t even know where that came from since I haven’t actually considered the day and time.  Anyway, any day, any time, would be just perfect for me.  I’d drop anything I’m doing to be with him.

         Grinning, he says, “Are you sure you don’t want to think about it for a while?”

          “Now, I’m embarrassed.  I think my Gemini twin said that, not I.”

          “Why should that embarrass you?  I’m very pleased actually, since we don’t really have plenty of time to negotiate a date.  “Saturday at 6:00 pm would work for me very well.  It’s a date.”

         It’s a date?  Really?  A real date?  I feel like a teenager who just made a date with her Prince Charming.   “Great!  I look forward to it.”

         Outside the airport, we step into a sauna-like atmosphere and blinding light from the mercurial sun.  I feel as if a hot, wet blanket has been dropped over me and wrapped it all around me, suffocating me.  I raise a hand to my forehead to shield my eyes so as not to lose sight of William’s face now partly hidden by dark sunglasses.  My eyes rake the area for my brother while my hand digs for my sunglasses in my purse.

          “I see my colleague,” William says, waving to a man who’s approaching us swiftly, his arm up in the air.  He seems to be in a hurry with a concerned expression etched on his face. 

         The men extend their hands to each other in excited greetings.  “Glad you’re back,” the man says.

         I let the men talk while I gaze through the crowd in search of my brother, wondering what’s keeping him.  I notice someone who looks like Johnny shouldering through the crowd of greeters.  I wave my hand vigorously toward him.  He does not wave back.  Then I feel a hand on my shoulder; that familiar tender and subtly sensual touch William had given me earlier, and whose effect still lingers on the other shoulder.  I turn my head and see both he and colleague looking at me.

          “I want you to meet my dear friend and colleague,” William says to me, keeping his hand on my shoulder.  He turns to the man and says, “Simon, may I introduce Mary—the one who might know more about volcanoes than you and I put together”

         I catch a glimpse of Simon’s look of intrigue.  The thoughts he must be entertaining in his head as he grips my hand tightly with a slight bow.

          “I’m pleased to meet you, Mary.”

          “Likewise,” I say.  It’s clear to me that Simon is on a mission, and that is, to snatch William as fast as he can out of here.

          “I’ve invited Mary to come and visit us at the center,” William says to Simon.  Much to my chagrin he retrieves his duffel bag from the mountain of luggage on my cart and slings it over his shoulder.

          “Is that so?”  Well, we’ll be delighted to have you there … you’ll certainly brighten up the place.”

         He speaks fast as if racing through time.  He seems like a very nice man.  I suspect it has something to do with Pinatubo, and the thought makes my heart skip a beat.  I hope nothing serious is happening up there.

         Simon leans over to grab William’s other bag, signaling they should go.  William circles his arm around my shoulders that appears casual enough for me to consider sexual, although I can’t escape the thrill of it.

          “I’ll pick you up on Saturday at 6:00 pm?”

         I raise my eyes to his. “I’ll be waiting,” I reply, sounding nonchalant. What does he see in my eyes? I wonder.  Can he trace the dread of parting etched in them? Can he feel the ache of having to go our separate ways? How wonderful this moment would be if he kissed me now.  I shush the thoughts away as I am sadly reminded once again that I am a married woman. 

          I feel a twinge of loneliness as I watch my Prince Charming walk away.  Where have you been all my life, William?

--o0o--

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