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Only Good Things

Liam Spencer

    The weeklong visit had flown by, and it was time to go back. A very early flight. Erie International Airport, stop at Chicago, and on home to Seattle.
    For some reason, it had been a little easier to disappear into the airport this time. Maybe it was the possibility that my sister might visit sometime soon, to get away from her abusive husband. Maybe it was just the thought of the trip ahead, and getting home. Maybe it was the misery of going back to work at that hell. Who knows.
    Security lines are not as long at smaller airports. I was through quickly, with plenty of time. There were older people waiting around for boarding. They seemed downtrodden, with make shift clothing surrounding their plumpnesses. My belly didn’t seem as noticeable.
    “Here I go,” I thought, shuddering to the long day ahead. Chicago is a great city, but their airport sucks. Every time I go through there. Every time. Every. Ugh.
    I thought about my flight going from Chicago to Erie, just a week earlier. The big guy beside me talking to his girlfriend on the cell phone even as we were taking off;
    “But....ok. I’ll be stuck in Erie Airport then. I mean, what? Why did he take Muffin again? Can’t you go get her and then come to the airport? But... Oh ok. Ok. Just go back home then, ok? No, just go back home. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out, ok?”
    On and on. The poor guy.
    When waiting for luggage at Erie, she was there. They cried together. Very touching.

    Now there was none of that. Family was in rural Pa., settled in and snoozing. Five AM. The small jet filled quickly. It was announced that we were leaving early, and would arrive early. One could only hope.
    The small jet roared through liftoff. Clouds were none. Lake Erie was dead. Not a light. The cabin was pitch dark. I realized I had forgotten to put on my nicotine patch. There, in the dark, my shirt half off, I placed it on my right shoulder, pressing it hard for good luck.
    Looking out the window, I wondered what city was underneath. After the Lake, everything was lit as far as the eye in the sky could see. Cleveland? Nah. Detroit? No. hmm. On it went. Lights. Everywhere. Soon it was announced we were landing in Chicago. I rolled my eyes. Here we go. Bullshit time.
    It was shuttles quickly, for once, whisking us away. A29. Where is A29? I rushed past all kinds of gates, looking for signs. I needed to find the boards that showed flights departing. None could be found. Shit. Put one up here and there, would you?
    Finally one was seen. My flight was on schedule. Really. Wow. For once. I still didn’t believe it. We’ll see.
    Anyway, I had nearly three hours, and was hungry. I walked to find my gate first, but eyed for places to eat along the way. Even McDonalds was busy as all hell. The line was a quarter mile long. There was no way I would wait in that line for that food. Onward, there was a wine bar with stools right along the corridor. The rest of it was closed. There was one woman with long blond hair sitting there eating somethings out of plastic. No food served. It looked pricy.
    Onward. There was my gate. Across from it was a restaurant and bar (separate). It would have been perfect except for the quarter mile long line. Shit.
    Ok. Do I wait in line forever, or go have an overpriced beer at the wine bar? Hmm. Wine bar.
    The blond was still there sipping wine and eating Lunchables. Her legs were crossed with her right high heel slightly bouncing. She was not heavy, but full bodied. Made for hard ridings. It crossed my mind what she could do.
    She very briefly looked up as I bellied up, then looked away. Completely uninterested. Fine. The bartender walked over, sleep still in her face. I looked at the taps. All pricy. The cheapest was Sam Adams. I ordered a glass.
    “$9.27.”
    Ouch, I thought. I just wanted a cheap beer to sip on. Oh well, everywhere else was filled. I placed a ten and two ones down. I always try to tip well.
    My eyes opened wide as she placed the beer in front of me. It was huge! Like forty plus ounces! Ouch! Was she trying to kill me? I only wanted a twelve or sixteen ounce beer to sip. It’d take forever to pee that much beer out.
    “Welcome to Chicago.” She smiled.
    I sipped heavily. Wow. Empty stomach, under two hours of sleep, and the first thing in my system is strongish beer. Not exactly the best decision, but I have hours to go. It’s not like I will be flying the plane.
    I went to my new iPhone. It was my first. My sister had to show me how to use the thing. I sipped beer and messed around on my phone, trying to figure it out. I accidently took a picture of the bartenders butt. She hadn’t seen. I laughed to myself.
    I took a picture of myself in front of the giant beer and figured out how to text it to Melinda.
    “Beer for breakfast. Why am I not surprised?!”
    “Well, everywhere else here is too busy. I can’t get in.”
    “Yeah, uh huh. Lol. Where are you?”
    “In the same city as you, for the first time. At the airport, though.”
    There was silence for a while. I continued sipping.
    “Liam, we are not in the same city. Rosemont.”
    “Huh? We’re both in Chicagoland, so I get to pick on you a bit.”
    “Yes we are.”
    The texting went back and forth for an hour or so. It was good to talk with Melinda. She and I had been very close in the past, like a year prior, but she had taken her hubby back, and they were again living in their hometown of Chicagoland. She and I had faded since, but still had great conversations whenever we did talk. Even as it had been love lost, we still committed to being friends, at least keeping up with each other to see how we each turned out.
    I had finally finished my giant beer, and was hungry. I got in line at the restaurant across from my gate. The line was not quite as long. I strained my eyes to see prices, while continuing to text with Melinda.
    A Spanish omelet, four eggs, for $7. With toast. Ok. Ordered. Melinda had to go to work. I got the food and went to the bar to sit down. Only two seats were available. The food went down fast. A bottle of Bud sat in front of me. I still had time.
    As I finished the food, a blond woman with medium curly hair plopped beside me. Her voice held force.
    “Hell, the line here is so long! All I could do was grab a damn Lunchable! Shit.”
    “Yeah, I lucked out a little. The line had shortened when I got in.”
    I sipped my beer as the bartender came for her order. She ordered a Bloody Mary, and dictated all the booze to be used, down to perfection. I noticed the rock on her left hand. It was worth more than many people earn in two years. Her hands were manicured. Makeup was perfect. Hair was precise. Heavenly smells filled.
    She piled cheap lunch meats and fake cheeses into her mouth, pausing to sip her perfect drink.
    “So, where are you going?’
    “Seattle....”
    “So you live there?” She asked impatiently.
    “Yes. It’s a great city. I love that city.”
    “Yes, I’ve been there many times. I really want to move there.”
    “You’ll love it. Some complain about the rain, but the rain shovels easier than snow.”
    “Uh...uh huh.”
    “Where are you heading?”
    “Vegas. A girlfriend is getting married soon, and we’re having a girl’s retreat. Going to be wild. I can’t wait. Gotta cut lose when you’re still young enough.”
    “Indeed. I’ll drink to that.” We clanged glasses. She sipped very heavily, then eyed me over.
    “Damn, I meant to get here early, get an early start!” She grabbed and squeezed my hand. “Now I won’t even have time for a second drink!”
    “Well, you can drink on the plane, right?”
    She ordered two shots of the best whiskey, and slid one in front of me.
    “Cheers!” the whiskey went down, landing hard. “Two more, please hurry!”
    “Mirage? Bel.....”
    “No no, she...my girlfriend, she doesn’t have money, so she just rented a villa, off strip. I know, I know, but it’ll still be so much fun!”
    “Wow! That’s great!”
    Her phone rang. It was her girlfriend. They began talking. The blond complained about Lunchables, then mentioned meeting a cute guy at the airport. Her hand gripped mine again. I began thinking about airport sex. It might not exactly be the mile high club, but still.
    “Oh shit! Julia, if I don’t go now, I’ll miss my flight! Talk with you in Vegas. Bye!”
    She grabbed me by the hand, and took off, nearly ripping my arm off. We got outside the bar, and hugged as she kissed my cheek. We briefly stood there looking at each other longingly before she rushed off, disappearing forever.
    If only.
    Time is such a bitch.
    “Well...” I sighed. My highlight is over. To the plane, for a long flight with my back murdering me.

    I turned to my gate. It was just in time. I looked at my ticket 14B. Shit. A middle seat. I imagined myself stuck between two fat guys, all of us in little cramped seats, my back murdering me.
    A woman was sitting in the window seat. She was talking to a guy who was sitting in my seat.
    “Sorry, excuse me, but I think you’re in my seat.”
    “Oh, we’re together. Would you mind taking that seat?”
    “That’s perfect. I prefer isle seats.”
    Yes! What a score. I sat down and put my laptop bag between my feet. I always pay the baggage so as to travel light. A really bad back will do that to you. I fastened my seat belt.
    Something was off. My seat was actually kind of comfy. I had an amazing amount of leg room. I stretched out. This is not right. I rechecked my ticket. It was right. Totally. Business Plus. Wait, what? A free upgrade?! Me?
    I quickly counted. Under twenty people ahead of me when getting off the plane. YES! My smile made the muscles in my face hurt. The doors shut. The pilot announced we’d be leaving early, and thus arriving early. YES!
    I could still feel the good whiskey burn as the plane launched into the sky. Five hundred and fifty miles an hour, and yet, still slow somehow. Soon came the drink cart. “Coffee.” “Orange juice.” “Coffee.” “Coffee.”
    My turn; “Vodka and orange juice, please.”
    “Yes sir.”
    The married couple beside me changed their order. “Vodka.” People who had already ordered requested booze.
    There, surrounded by those of means, I was setting trends. We all sipped our booze, hurling through the sky at over five hundred miles an hour. And yet, somehow, it just wasn’t fast enough.
    At some point, a little girl one row back from first class began playing in the curtains that separated first class from the rest of us. I braced for a loud child. Instead a tall guy built like a teddy bear got up and began walking her back to the bathroom. I couldn’t help but look at him, as he looked somewhat familiar. He had a bowl haircut, like Moe from the Stooges, and a piggish face. I knew him from somewhere....
    It was my ex wife’s husband!
    Fuck! So much for a good trip. I wished I had escaped it all to go on an adventure with the rich blond from the bar. Yeah, Vegas. No more USPS. No more....ummm...rent money. Umm. Never mind. I just had to lay low.
    Besides, I couldn’t be sure it was them.
    Ten minutes later, she got up and marched back to the bathroom. It certainly was them. I laid low. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to have to talk with them, but still.
    Upon landing, I jumped up, as usual. Enough sitting. My back wouldn’t take anymore. I knew it was a risk of being seen, but fuck it. What are the chances? They’ll be eager to get off the plane too, especially with a young child. They left. I made sure not to catch up.
    It didn’t take long. I was outside smoking at one end of Seatac Airport. Soon I noticed two cute Asian women acting strangely toward a pink piece of luggage. They clearly needed to go catch their plane, but couldn’t go near the wheeled suitcase. What on earth?
    As I walked around the thing, I saw it. Yellowjackets had discovered something on the bag. There was eight or so, aggressive. It was that time of year.
    They looked at me funny as I stepped up.
    “It’s ok. I’ll get them.”
    My hat swung sharply. Direct hit. Bug guts sprayed. Two flew off alive. The girls grabbed their bag and hurried inside. Four yellowjackets moved in on me. My hat was on target. No more yellow jackets.
    Back inside, my bag was fifth off the belt. YES! I rushed to the other end of the airport, and had a last smoke before going to the train. Attractive women were everywhere. The train was packed. I stood with my luggage in front, stuck in the area reserved for bicycles.
    A few stops later, an amazingly attractive woman walked on.
    It’s hard to describe, but she had a face that screamed sexuality. Those eyes, those lips...just in every way. It was as if she was close to climax.
    Unlike most, she did not bury herself into her phone. We exchanged glances, then each looked out the same window at the houses flying past. It was Tukwila. Not a good neighborhood.
    I couldn’t help but glance from time to time. Damn. There was something there. I could somehow sense smarts, but couldn’t know. If only there were an ice breaker.
    It crossed my mind. How odd. Melinda and I, with all our talks, and how close we had been, might not have chemistry in person. She nearly gave up Colorado, Chicago, and a hubby to move all the way out to Seattle for a roll of the dice. She was wise to choose Chicago. As she had said, “I have a much better offer in Seattle, but love is love.”
    And yet, here was a woman I’ve never talked to.....
    I stopped myself, realizing how silly I was being. I smiled broadly. Just how tired was I?
    She looked over and smiled. I smiled and blushed, then began racking my brain for an ice breaker.
    An intoxicated guy meandered over and tried to converse with her. She was not interested, but was polite. He got more forward, swaying back and forth with the train. She looked at me. I walked over, ready to bullshit through it.
    “Dude, read the sign.” I pointed up. It was a map of the train stops. I knew he couldn’t read it.
    “Oh, ok. Sorry.” He slurred, and stumbled away.
    She smiled slightly, sexily, the point of her tongue licking the left side of her upper lip as if she wanted to say something.
    The train made it’s stop, and she walked off. We watched each other for as long as we could.

    Finally it was my stop. I made my way through bullshit crowds to my bus. Before long I was home again, to my messy apartment. It was always a combination of injury and exhaustion that kept my place from being what I wanted it to be. There was my mail, saved for a week.
    Suddenly, I had to shit. It was a bad one.
    In with me came our union newsletter. NALC Branch 79, called the 79r. I sat there, gagging on the smell of my own shit. It had been brewing for a long time. I read the newsletter end to end. Then, as I often do, I looked at the welcome to new members section. Sometimes, I recognize names. I did this time too.
    Song Ming. Stephanie’s boyfriend. Yep. The one that called me “white trash” for “having” to work a labor job, was about to try to do the very job that was so beneath him. I need to stress the word “try.” Few can do it.
    I have never, to my knowledge, laughed while taking a long shit. This was a first. It was a long, deep laugh from the belly, from the soul. It made me fart and shit harder, which somehow made me laugh more.
    That little shit? Really? He’s going to try a job that chews everyone up and spits them out? HAHAHA!

    Having spent a week and more surrounded by people, I was suddenly alone again. I didn’t want to be. I headed out to the bar down the street. I didn’t want vacation to end. I got a beer and went to smoke. There was Min. We hadn’t seen each other in forever. The last I heard was that Min had cancer. The bad kind. No hair. Exhausted.
    Yet, there she was, drinking and beaming. We had always hit it off. She was an amazing person. We talked and laughed like old times. Her face still lit up the night.
    Soon, Carrie came over. She was a breast cancer survivor, still getting treatment. Carrie was a loud and loving person. Min was more quiet and reserved. Carrie started.
    “You know, when you’re there in the doctor’s office, and he gives you that news....you realize how alone you are. Really. Everyone dies alone.”
    Silence.
    “Sorry Min, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, but everyone loves you, but no one can save you. Know what I mean? I mean, what can they do?”
    “Yeah.”
    They hugged. I didn’t know what to say, so said nothing.
    Carrie had to go home to her hubby. Min got tired, and left. I realized how tired I was.
    I bought smokes and beer on the way home. I put beer in the fridge, then collapsed on the couch.

    My mistake was a calculated one. It didn’t make sense to buy food before my trip. Why put fresh food in the fridge to rot while I’m away? I had coffee, after all.
    So, there I was, hungry. Needing groceries. Hells awaiting at work the next day. There was the plan. Buy smokes at the smoke shop, stop at Pagliacci’s for a $4 slice, then to Safeway for groceries.
    I got to thinking as I sipped my coffee. I saw, heard from, or at least heard of all these people from my past, all within days of each other, but what did it mean? I mean, the only one I hadn’t seen or heard from was Samantha. It just seemed so odd. And yet, life marches on and on, and I had hells to pay at work coming the next day.
    The one thing I wanted to be over with was waiting to chew me up. Great.
    I got my smokes, and got a slice. Pagliacci has great pizza, but the crust is tough. I prefer a fork and knife. It’s pricy, and so a rare treat. I dug in, devouring it quickly.
    The last bite. Crust. Chew chew chew. Past the window walked four women. The first I recognized was Linda. She had always hated me. Severely. At five one, the weight gain was pronounced. It had been roughly five years.
    Then there were two women I didn’t know. A bit older, chunkier, looking conservative.
    And there was Samantha. The Her of poetry fame, looking as great as ever. Her prized ass still amazing. All smiles. Pointing and talking. Excitement. They paused at the intersection.
    It felt like I should and could walk out there and hold Samantha’s hand, picking up right where we left off, as though it was right somehow. I knew it would not be welcome. I stood there, smiling like an idiot.
    Their light turned green, and off they went. I followed well behind. I dared not approach, even to just say hi. In the state I was in, injured and embarrassed, it would not have looked good. Yet, there was something about seeing her there, in what was once our neighborhood, our terf, that made me need to watch her walk through those streets. Our streets.
    I watched as she disappeared yet again, as I stood there as a jilted lover from memories, mourning love unclaimed, and left for dead.

    Reality snapped me back. Really?! After all these years with the USPS, busting my ass into injury and oblivion, I was actually worse off?!
    I shook my head, and walked to get food. I cursed my life’s stupidities. We are all alone, after all. Totally answerable to ourselves. Gagging on the smell of our own shit, and laughing at others who gag even worse.

    Groceries lugged home, the old back was aching. Easy, toaster oven food was needed, along with beers. The evening went fast. Distraction. Avoid truths that showed how far I had fallen. Numbness. Masturbation. Dreaming of better days of long ago. I was settled back to reality. The hells called work. Dramas and insults. Junior high school bullshit. The life I never wanted, but was sucked back into. I grunted and growled before opening another beer.
    I wanted to write, but couldn’t. I cussed at myself for the prison I had found myself in.
    A full belly and three cheap beers made sleep hit. My alarm hit at four. Work at six. Drama. A fight. An early release. Three beers and two sandwiches. An exhausted snooze. Another alarm at four. The usual. Back to the beaten path for a beaten man. More dramas, and more fights. An early day and a bad mood. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to enjoy. The vacation was over. Lifelessness. Again.
    For shits and giggles, I texted Melinda. I didn’t expect a reply for days, but it seemed like a good idea. To my surprise, she texted back;
    “Hey. I’m still at work. Can I call you in like an hour?”
    “Cool! I’ll look forward to it.”
    A rare treat! It was always good to talk with Melinda. I opened a beer and sipped heavily. This will be fun.

    Soon we were talking and laughing. Each had beers to sip and ventings to do. On and on we went. As usual, time flew.
    Then things changed. There was no warning.
    “Liam, how much do you love me?”

    Talk about a deer in headlights. What could I say? What could I know? What brought this on?
    I had to say something, right?
    “Umm...well, the first thing that comes to my mind is that you’re a married woman living with your husband in Chicago.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “Right. I mean, I thought we agreed to be friends and keep up with each other....”
    “Uh huh. And?”
    “And? What do you mean?”
    “Well, you didn’t answer the question.”
    “Ok....Well, there was a time when I would have gone for you, in time, but you did work things out with Chris, and I was very supportive...”
    “Yeah, just never mind, ok never mind.”
    “Umm...ok.... Just, I’m on the spot, and not sure what to”
    “JUST NEVER MIND, ok?”
    “Ok. Ok. You ok?”
    “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s change the subject.”
    “Ok.”

    We did change the subject, and went on to laugh and joke and sip, but now we sighed together too. The talk went on for another half hour or so.
    “Well, Liam, another five minutes, and I gotta let you go.”
    “Ah yes, the standard saying of Melinda....no surprise. And my standard response; all good things must come to an end.”
    
    Small talk swirled for a bit longer than five minutes.
    “Ok, Chris is about to come home, so I gotta let you go, ok?”
    “Ok. Have super super super sweetest of dreams, Melinda. I’ll talk with you soon, I hope.”
    “Yes, you too. We will. Good night, Liam.”
    “Good night, Melinda.”

    I didn’t know what to think of any of it. Did she love me? Did I love her? What was that? Just buyer’s remorse? I paced and sipped, wondering and imagining. Was I in love for the first time in years? Was she in love with me? What the hell?! Eventually I was able to sleep a bit.
    The cruelty of the alarm hit at four, shattering the silence of the empty apartment.
    I gave my standard response for having to go to this job; “Fuck!”
    What a way to live. But I knew I was stuck there.
    Not a way to live, or have any kind of life, really, but it’ll never end.

    That night would be the very last I ever heard from Melinda.

    Only good things must come to an end.

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