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At First Sight

Posted on February 24, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

It was the rattling that got his attention. There was an irregularity to the sound that allowed it to stand out over all the similar sounds that occupied a space like the one they were in. He still had trouble adjusting to the idea. He was at Charles de Gaulle airport. On his way out. Paris, Europe, it all seemed so unreal and yet there he was doing his thing in a city that didn’t speak any of the languages he knew. His reverie about Paris and his being in the city was interrupted by the rattling, simply because it was not like all the other rattling that wove its way around him around the busy airport. He followed the source of the rattling with a frown that quickly turned into an expression of avid interest as his eyes rose from the bag with the irregular wheel to the girl with the incredible legs who was dragging the bag behind her. This much he could tell, the legs were long, the skirt was short, the boots took no prisoners and the sleeves of her deep green sweater were pulled up to her elbows. He saw the brown hair and the hoop earrings but he couldn’t tell what her face looked like. And he was all about the face.

He had met enough women who had the requisite fantastic body parts but it was when he met the women with the beautiful faces that he really, truly fell in love. Which is not to say that he had a history of dating incredibly beautiful women but it was definitely to say that he was more likely to nurse a crush for an unhealthy amount of time for a girl with weird posture and a beautiful face than he was to waste dream time on someone with a stunning body and an unremarkable visage. He could tell at a thousand yards if a girl’s face was her own or the product of a visit to a nice plastic surgeon named Dr. Michaels or Dr. Roberts or something as generic as the rows of perfectly white teeth and smooth skin they put on each and every one their clients. When he considered a girl beautiful it wasn’t because her eyes were perfectly aligned on either side of her nose that was as straight as a Catholic minister. No, he defined his beauty on individual terms and was a firm believer that the inside was reflected on the outside when it came to beautiful women. It could go either way with the plain ones and it was definitely not true about the ugly ones.

So he stood there for a moment and wondered about what the girl with the legs and the luggage with a faulty wheel looked like and then he dismissed the thought because he was certain he would never find out. As far as he was concerned, his luck was not due for holding up any more for a while. He’d been to Paris, he’d eaten fantastic food, seen so many interesting sights, female and architectural, that there was no way he was getting anything more out of life that was good for a long time. The announcement was made for the boarding of his plane so he picked up his jacket, put on his travel smile and held out his passport and boarding pass for the woman checking to ensure that the correct passengers were climbing aboard the right plane. He flickered his eyes over the airport one last time and of course the woman was nowhere in sight.

He had managed to acquire an aisle seat on the side so he would only have to deal with one co-passenger for the duration of the flight. He intended to sleep, eat whatever was on offer, drink moderately and arrive in LA without too much of a resemblance to a garment that had been left in the tumble drier for too long. He wasn’t surprised that his co-passenger hadn’t already occupied the seat by the window. He was always one of the first to get on a plane so he expected a large man with wheezing breath and the tendency to snore to arrive sometime before the plane took off but definitely after most passengers had settled in. So imagine his surprise when an attractive woman with an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips shoved her bag into the overhead compartment and looked at him with eyes that looked like they possessed knowledge far beyond any he had yet acquired, specifically about the opposite sex. He met her gaze with one of his own but his was neither confident nor nonchalant and his eyes registered irritation when a stewardess reminded her that theirs was a non-smoking flight. She nodded at the stewardess and to him she said, “this is 12G?” He wanted very much to agree so that he could spend the entire flight rejecting ways he could speak with her. But it wasn’t, so he managed to organize the words, “sorry, 12A and B” in the correct order. He wanted to say ‘you don’t know how sorry’ but he managed to stop himself. So she looked across the plane and said, “oh shit” and leaned in on the man who had occupied 12C and asked if it would be okay if she went past.

What was he going to say? He was sixty-five at least, a beautiful young woman was talking to him, all he could do is nod. Now this is beauty of the situation, she did this with each of the four men sitting in that middle row so that while she was crossing the first three men they were favoured with a beautiful smile when she spoke to them and then favoured by her equally attractive ass when she spoke to the guy next to them. By the time she got to her seat there were four very happy men who seemed to think it had finally paid of for them to be stuck in the uncomfortable middle of a plane.

He was so intent on the girl crossing the plane that he didn’t notice the girl staring at the full overhead storage with a look of dismay. He noticed because he heard a small sound originating from the space by his feet. It was the sound of a misaligned wheel squeaking on the carpeted floor. He noticed the turtleneck and before he missed the chance again he checked her face. It was stunning. She must have heard his sharp intake of breath because she looked at him while he was entranced by the length of her eyelashes. So entranced that he forgot to be nervous about the beautiful woman who was looking at him. She smiled and he was out of his seat like someone had finally reminded him of the burning coal that was placed in every seat before take off. They were toe-to-toe for a moment and then he reached for his bag in the overhead storage and pulled it out, dropped it on his seat and looked at her with unusually wide open eyes. She didn’t seem surprised, “are you sure?”

He nodded, “I’ll manage.”

“Thank you.”

She needed help with the bag but they were able to get it into the storage with minimal synchronized grunting. He knew what they sounded like and it excited him. He was certain she had no idea what he was thinking of. With the bag in storage she took her seat and he needed a moment to marvel at the fact that a beautiful woman was going to be seated next to him for the duration of the flight. Then he sat down, on his bag and jumped up again, shoved the bag under the seat in front of him and settled down with embarrassing red flushing his neck and face. She didn’t seem to have noticed because she seemed to be more interested in the world outside. She looked sad and without the aid of his usual insecurity he asked, “Everything okay? You look sad.”

She turned to him and nodded, “I don’t know when I will be back.”

He sighed, looking past her at the buildings and activity beyond, “I know exactly what you mean. It’s Paris.”

“Were you here long?”

“Long enough to fall in love…”

“I lived here two years.”

“That’s long enough to be married.”

“You know I think you are exactly right. I may find and lose men but I think I will always be married to Paris.”

“I think Paris is very lucky to have you.”

“I’m Angela.”

“I’m Gabriel.”

“Did you ever go to Place d’Italie Gabriel?”

“I lived in Place d’Italie!”

“So we probably crossed paths every single day.”

“I think I would have remembered you.”

“Well I suppose not at the same time but we probably took the same metro trains and bought similar pastries…if we had met in Paris I would have been able to show you around.”

“That would have been something.”

“Wow. Strange hunh? How you can live in the same place for a certain period of time and not meet everybody else who lived there?”

“For what it’s worth I’m glad you’re not the bad tempered old man with the only ugly dog I saw in all my days in Paris.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He also lived around Place d’Italie. If he was in your seat just now I think his dog would have pissed on my leg by now.”

“You know they don’t allow pets in the main cabin of the plane right?”

“Of course. But with my usual luck…that would have happened.”

“Thank you.”

The plane began to move and she closed her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate to fly. I was actually supposed to be in Paris for a month. That was two years ago.”

“And this is how long you took to muster up the courage to get on a plane again?”

“Oh no. This is how long it took for me to meet a man and then have my heart broken. Still doesn’t mean I’m over my fear of flying. It’s just nothing compared to my fear of walking the streets of a city I love and meeting the man who knows everything about me in the arms of another woman.”

“Oh wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t hate all men. Yet.”

“Would you like me to hold your hand?”

She linked fingers with him and smiled. As the plane gathered speed he closed his eyes and smiled as the thought crossed his mind, “only in Paris.”

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