My friend will meet me

February 2003

Maggie called me, as the airport express left Central station. ‘Honey, I love you, I miss you’
‘I miss you too’
‘Honey, I don’t want you to go. Don’t say I get rid of you’
‘I was just feeling upset’
‘I know; I feel upset too. This is hard for us, too much parting’

The flight left on time. As I found my seat, I saw the girl I had sat next to on the outward flight. She smiled. ‘Hi’ I said.

Later, after the meal, she came and spoke to me. ‘What a coincidence’ she said, ‘that we sit close together again’.

As we disembarked the plane the following morning, she walked by my side. We talked about London. As we neared baggage reclaim her mood seemed to change, she seemed less happy, had I aggravated her I wondered. Or maybe I wasn’t very good company. I asked about her onward journey. ‘My friend will meet me’.

I wanted to ask her if we might meet again, but my perception of her changed mood, deterred me, and we parted with a curt ‘good bye’.

And so any hope of alleviating the pain I felt at parting from Maggie was lost.

I collected the car and drove home. I was due to go to the London office, but I called in to say I wasn’t so well and would work in the local office for the next couple of days.

In my inbox, three messages from Maggie, one said:

‘Honey, I miss you already. Never have this feeling before. I told my mother how well you look after me when we are in China. I am so impressed, you are so gentleman, always holding my hand, always make sure I am safe. I am always so secure with you. My mother impressed too. So you see I cannot live without you’