She sat in the
airport staring at her hands, picking non-existent dirt from under her
fingernails, pushing back her cuticles with the tip of her thumb. She had no
cuticles left; she had done this so many times – a cover that she had perfected
long ago – looking like she wasn’t interested in what was going on around her,
pretending that she didn’t have a care in the world. To the others, she was so
bored, in fact, that the only thing keeping her awake was how imperfect her
nail beds were.
A young Army
Specialist was sitting next to his girlfriend that he hadn’t seen in over 6
months. He had done his basic at Fort
Knox and the ticket sticking out of his bag suggested that they were going back
to his hometown in Kentucky. His body language said that he believed in love.
The way she ate her Subway, rather than look at him, said she was trying to
decide if all this was worth it. A Persian aunt and niece were talking loudly,
a conversation that would have looked and sounded like an argument to most. She
knew that they were only talking about the niece’s father (the aunt’s brother)
and the fact that he absolutely hated Philadelphia. It was funny, really. A lady
in her 90s, requiring a wheelchair, snapped at the gentleman trying to assist
her, then realizing she was being unfair, even for someone her age, quickly
recovered with an, “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for your help, dear.” The
father and son that were waiting for the Rochester flight at gate 17 had an
unfortunate and dysfunctional relationship. “Pick your shit up and move,” is
hardly the way to talk to an 11 year old.
She was one
of a kind, yet appeared to be just another sheep in the flock. She walked alone,
under the guise of a business traveler without a companion. She would make all the required phone calls
while surrounded by those heading for vacation or those returning from their
board meetings; calling her mother to catch up on the week’s news, calling her
boyfriend to let him know she had landed, emailing her coworkers that their
days would have to be delayed because she wasn’t going to be able to review the
report until after 11. Sending and receiving texts from a friend with
relationship troubles and her sister who was looking to invest in a new
start-up. From the periphery and to the average outsider, she was busy,
content, maybe even lucky. But these were all covers, too. She didn’t want to
look lonely. She didn’t want her neighbor that was sharing an elbow rest to
think of her as someone wanting or willing to partake in small talk. She
actually didn’t want anyone to think of her, period. She didn’t want them to
know anything about her and she didn’t want them to be able to remember a
detail after she was gone. She’d turn her phone on when the plane landed,
because that’s what is normal. She’d make a groan when her phone chirped upon
receiving signal, indicating that she had yet another email. She’d call her
hotel, asking if they could allow her an early check-in because she’d arrived
ahead of schedule. That would be the first time the gentleman in seat 12C would
hear her voice, and then her name as she confirmed her reservation. She was
pleasant. She would smile, help the older lady with her bag, maybe even her
seatbelt, but she would not engage in small talk. If she did, they would retain
some fragmented memory of her and probably pass it on eventually to a friend or
another airport stranger. It was her job to never be recognized, never leave a
mark.
The world is
a pretty small place. She’s seen thousands of repeaters – strangers that she’s
seen before – from one place and then another. Had they noticed her, spoken to
her, been able to place having sat, drank, or eaten with her, she would have to
remember, too.
The
conversation with her mother was real. There was no office job, however, nor
reports to read. Her boyfriend believed she was an executive with clients all
over the world and was forced to travel, often. The text messages were mostly
encrypted instructions for where she was to head next. When she called the hotel, that was her boss.
When she gave her name, that was her new alias, which she was only repeating
for confirmation. They said she could only make it 5 years at this; that was when everyone maxed out, they insisted. She was well into year 6…
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