This particular client was always yelling at me. He was sure the mistakes in the work were mine and though I continually explained that I was simply using the date he had written on the little scrap of paper he included with the dictation, we couldn't see eye to eye. He was unhappy with the medical reports I was typing for him because...well...that dang date was always wrong.
But his reprimands, his angry, crooked, brown finger shaking in my face, his veiled wife pacing back and forth behind him, occasionally stopping to fold her arms across her chest and scowl at me in agreement didn't even phase me today.
All I could think was, "I'm getting married in a few hours." They had no idea. Not that it would have changed anything. He was always right and I was always wrong and we just had to agree to disagree.
"I'm very sorry, Dr. _______. I guess I misunderstood. I thought you wanted me to use the date you had written on the piece of paper you included with the tape. I will call your office next time and double check that." This conversation was becoming tired. It was the same thing every time. I guess I just didn't know what he wanted.
And to be honest, at that moment, I just plain didn't care anymore. "Just fire me", was what I really wanted to say. I shook his hand, it was his usual dead fish grip. Ugh. And with that, I gathered up the work and scurried from the office, throwing a quick wave and plastic smile to his staff before escaping.
As I drove the short distance home, I wondered if the package I was expecting had arrived yet. It wasn't absolutely necessary for the day's events, but I thought it would be fun and this was the only time I felt it would be appropriate, really. Within minutes I was screeching into my garage, throwing the door open and jogging to my mail box. I fumbled wildly with my keys, dropping them a couple of times before I managed to open the box.
But alas, my heart sank and I heaved a sigh as I discovered only a few regular letter-sized envelopes. "Oh well. It would have been cute, but..." My words trailed off and I moped back to my condo.
I entered my kitchen, took note of the time and realized I had only one hour to prepare and then the moment I had been waiting one month for would finally arrive - the moment I was to meet my fiance in person and decide if I should really marry him.
I ran to my bedroom, threw open the closet doors and frantically rummaged through my clothing, trying to find something else to wear since my original plan had apparently fallen through. I ripped my blouse off and began pulling shirt after shirt over my head and checking my appearance in the mirror, briefly playing with my hair, fluffing it out, pulling it on top of my head and turning to view my appearance from different angles.
I heaved a frustrated sigh and ripped my shirt off again.
"DING DONG!" I jumped and gasped at the sound of my doorbell. Who could that be? Not now! I didn't have time for interruptions. I quickly scanned the room for something to throw on quick to answer the door. I pulled my bathrobe on quick and ran to the door just as the doorbell rang again.
"Coming!" I called out. I threw the door open and there stood my neighbor from across the way. He was a tall, gaunt man, usually seen pacing in front of his door, taking drags off his cigarette, looking for someone to visit with. He lived alone. And he knew I lived alone and was home all day - just like him, which usually prompted him to stop in for a visit. I ignored his persistent knocking most of the time, excusing myself later when our paths crossed by telling a tale of how I must have been showering or napping or something.
"Hey. I can't visit right now. I've got to be somewhere in like thirty minutes," I spit out before he had a chance to speak.
"Oh", he stepped back. "Well, I don't mean to bother you..."
"It's OK." I cut him off impatiently. "No problem. I'll talk to you later, K?"
Just as I reached for my door to shut it in his face he pulled a package out from behind his back. "I believe this is yours."
I gasped. "Oh! This is it! It came!" I squealed in delight.
A huge grin spread across his face. "Oh good. I like seeing you happy."
I immediately stopped jumping up and down like a school girl and smiling weakly, calmly took the package from his hands. "Thanks. I really appreciate you dropping this by. But I've really got to go."
"Got a date?" He asked, looking me up and down.
"Kind of", I chuckled. "OK. Well, see ya' later."
In my effort to be courteous in the midst of my anxiety, I let him take a couple of steps away from my door before I gently closed it and slowly locked it. And then bolted like a mad woman toward my room, ripping the package to shreds to get to it.
The shirt.
My extremely conventional courtship and marriage at the age of 19, which ended in an ugly divorce at the age of 21, opened my eyes to a whole new, unconventional way of doing things. And so I gently lifted the shirt from its shredded package and held it up in the light, admiring the sparkly lettering, which read, "Mrs. Coppee." Perhaps a bit premature, but after weeks of prayer and meditation, I was pretty confident in my decision to marry Bertrand Coppee. I only hoped he was as confident.
Soon it was time to go. My stomach back-flipped and my heart began pounding wildly out of my chest. This was it - the moment of truth.
Though Bertrand and I had spoken of marriage and had mutually decided it was the right thing to do, we still left the absolutely final decision open. "If we see each other and we don't feel right suddenly, even if it's just one of us, we won't go through with it. I'll put you up at my parents' home and we'll just spend the weekend together, hanging out and talking and go from there." Those were the words of reassurance I gave us both at the close of our final conversation before the meeting.
I drove to the airport, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles were white. So many thoughts were flooding my mind. I was excited and nervous and just couldn't wait to finally see him in person and see how I felt. I suddenly worried that we might not feel the same way and I'd either be hurt or have to do the hurting. I silently prayed in my head that we'd at least have the same feeling either way.
I finally arrived and found a parking space as close to the doors as I could. I turned off my car and laid my head back, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself a little. I grabbed the paper from my purse, noting Bertrand's flight information and made my way into the airport terminal.
As I made my trek to the gate number for his flight, my legs became a little wobbly. I pushed through the crowd and walked close to the wall in case I needed a little help steadying myself. I found the gate number and fumbled with the paper in my hands, double checking the number, already second-guessing myself.
Just then the passengers from the plane began to emerge through the double doors. I scanned the first crowd coming through. One man in particular kind of looked like Bertrand, so I fixed my eyes on him, studying his face. Though I had seen his pictures many times on-line, he looked so different in all of them that I once asked him, "So, which one of these do you really look like? You're so different in all of them." He laughed and said, "They're all me. They're all recent. I don't know what you mean. I think YOU look different in all of YOUR pictures."
The man I was fixated on made eye contact with me and looked away. I sighed and looked back at the double doors. I nervously chewed on my bottom lip as I continued to scan the people, looking for his face. Person after person filed through the doors. Several minutes passed and the number of passengers began to diminish. Still I had not found him. I heaved a frustrated sigh then and leaned against a pole, folding my arms across my chest and furrowing my brow. The situation was looking grim. A few seconds passed now before one or two people would come through, but nobody resembling my fiance.
And then the people around me cleared and all became silent. I cocked my head to the side and sighed again, looking around to see if any man was standing off to the side, looking for me. There was no one. One of the airport personnel shut the doors then and locked them. My expression turned to one of disbelief. Suddenly I felt so alone. So sad. I felt my shoulders slump. I fell back against the pole again and stared at the ground. My mind began to race with so many thoughts.
"Maybe he decided he didn't want to come after all."
"But he sounded so happy and excited on the phone last night. He didn't indicate any second thoughts."
"Now what?"
"I wonder if he's left a message at home for me or something."
"I don't know that I want to talk to him anymore."
"I feel so stupid."
"I bet he never had any intention of marrying me."
I pulled my cell phone from my purse and checked it. No messages. No missed calls. My head was spinning. I felt so lost.
"Oh well", I sighed aloud. I slowly turned and began walking back toward the elevators to the parking garage. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I looked heavenward and took a deep breath, fighting them back. I glanced around and saw a few people staring at me. I felt even more stupid. I just wanted to run home, climb into bed and never come out again.
Just as I reached the elevator lobby, an announcement came over the loud speakers. I could hear a voice speaking, but I tuned it out.
And then suddenly I heard my name. I jerked my head up and began turning around, looking toward the ceiling for the speakers. There was so much noise. I staggered out to the middle of the main hall, still turning about, searching the ceiling for the sound.
"This message is for Kristin Poulsen. Please pick up a white paging phone. Kristin Poulsen please pick up a white paging phone."
"What's going on?" I mumbled, snapping out of my fog-like state. I looked both ways and chose to go to the left, searching for a white paging phone. I picked it up and looked at it for a second, trying to figure out how it worked.
"Hello. How can I help you?" I heard a voice say through the receiver.
"H-hi. Umm...I think you - I think you called my name." I stammered.
"Kristin Poulsen?" The voice asked.
"Yeah?" I responded.
"There's a Bert-i-nand Co-PEE (his name is pronounced Ber-TRON Co-PAY) looking for you." The woman stumbled over his name.
I gasped. "He's here? Where is he?"
"He's waiting for you at the west end information desk", the voice replied.
"I don't know where that is", I panted in desperation. "I don't even know where I am right now. I mean, I know I'm in the airport, but I don't even know what part. I have no idea which end is east and which end is west and..."
The woman interrupted, "OK, ma'am, just calm down. I can talk you through it."
I heaved a sigh of relief and listened intently to her instructions. Then I slammed the phone down and began walking as fast as I could toward the location. "He's here! He's really here!" I repeated over and over in my head. My pace increased and I panted, trying to hold back my elation. There were people sitting and standing all along the walls of the long hallway. I felt like they were all staring at me. Like they all knew what was about to happen and they wanted to see the outcome. I was excited, but a bit anxious too. Of course, these people were all complete strangers and had no idea why I was there or where I was going. I looked away from their stares and squinted my eyes as I approached the west end of the terminal, trying to see if I could spot Bertrand.
As I closed in on the information desk, I spotted the back of a man in a dark suit. He seemed to fit the description, so I continued to scan him up and down, hoping he would turn a bit, so I could see part of his face. Just then he slowly turned, caught sight of me and grinned. The anxiety in my expression melted into a relieved smile. Though I was very close to him at this point, my pace didn't slow and I ran right into him, our hands clasping together. We gazed into each other's eyes and both said, "Hi" in a dreamy voice. Then we grabbed each other in a hug and held each other a few minutes.
Though this was our first meeting, it felt like I had known him forever - that I had already met him before. After a few minutes, we pulled away from each other and looked into each other's eyes again, giggling now like a couple of children.
"I'm so glad you're here," he said, studying my face.
"I'm so glad YOU'RE here." I responded with a giggle. "I went to your gate and watched everyone get off the plane and I never saw you. I thought maybe you had changed your mind."
"Well, I'm here," he teased.
"I know," I panted in an exasperated tone. "I'm glad I heard the speaker paging me. I almost left because I thought you weren't here. Your flight must have come in early."
"It did. But I thought you would be here already. I've been walking the airport looking for you. I thought maybe YOU had changed your mind." He chuckled.
"Oh my gosh!" I said, grabbing him in a hug again.
When I pulled away again, he was gazing into my eyes and smiling. And then he slowly leaned in and kissed me. As I kissed him back, I noticed we fit together perfectly. I loved the way he kissed. It just confirmed what I had already felt - that this was meant to be.
I backed away and gazed up at him with a questioning look. "So...."
"So....." he mimicked.
"Are we getting married, then, or what?" I felt my cheeks burn and I laughed nervously.
"I don't know. Are we?" He teased.
"I feel good about it." I responded.
"Good. Me too." He hugged me again for a few moments and then grabbed my hand and said, "Well, lead the way."
And so I did, to the parking garage, to my car, and to my home - soon to be our home.
...to be continued...
