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DEPARTURES

The boy grinned nervously and gripped his ticket tightly. The voice from nowhere had called his flight. He edged toward the boarding door with the others. His eyes were wide with the excitement he tried to hide from his parents. After all, he was 18, a man now and no stranger to travel and to new things. So urbane and wise. So foolish to think so.

His head was filled with thoughts of the University...so many things to think about. Classes, a roommate. Would he be able to find his way around? There had been the guided tour with his parents but that had been a year ago. And the girls...college women...so mature-looking. Would there be one for him? So many things to think about that he barely gave a thought to his parents.

Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime...finally at the gate...his mother grabbing him for a final hug and kiss even as the ticket agent was reaching for his boarding pass. He passed off the tears on her cheeks as sadness that he was leaving. He could not have known otherwise. He hitched up his backpack and handed over the boarding pass, received the canceled ticket and stuffed it into the hip pocket of his jeans.

Suddenly, he was gone.

The boy's father looked on with stoic eyes. It was the natural way of things and certainly nothing to cry over. He wasn't sure he remembered how anyway. When he could no longer see the boy down the jetway he wondered if he should have done something...shaken his hand...maybe even hugged him. He felt sudden panic...he should have done something...but he wouldn't have known what to do anyway. He never had.

The boy's mother ruined her fine leather gloves with tears wiped from her cheeks. She felt an overwhelming sense of loss and uncharacteristic self-pity. Her baby...thoughts of his first step and first birthday party flooded her memory with a thousand other images. Jason on stage in fourth grade singing like a soprano angel...Jason hunting Easter eggs on the lawn, crushing them in his excitement...his first "date"...his first heartbreak. And now he was gone. Her little man. Her support in his later teens...after the seclusion and the rebellion. She had lived for him. He was her son...and hers alone. His father had never really been much of a factor.

And now he was gone.

Her husband was saying something she barely heard. Something about Jason sending his laundry home by Fed Ex and appearing on their doorstep whenever money ran out and he had a chance to get away from school for a weekend. He was reassuring her with slightly inappropriate jokes. So unlike him to be supportive in any way. Why now?

They moved to the window to watch as the plane boarded and the food loaded and the engines were warmed up. They stood close without touching. Leonard was impatient. Planes always took off. This one would too. There was really no reason to wait. Everything would be fine. He looked at Miriam and started to say something but the rapt attention on her face as she watched every movement around the plane changed his mind. He drew in his breath and prepared for the wait.

When the plane was muled away from the dock and lined up on the runway Miriam continued to watch and try to imagine which plane was carrying her son as each lept into the sky to come down in some foreign place. It was so like her. Finally satisfied that she had seen the plane depart she looked up at her husband with a wan smile.

"Leonard, I'm not going back with you. I've bought a ticket."

"Not...going back? Why? Where are you going?"

Miriam looked...one last time...out the window at the runway. She moved to a seat and patted the one next to her. This was uncomfortable. Leonard passed the invitation and she couldn't handle him standing over her so she rose again and stood facing him.

"I'm going to my family for a few days. Mom knows I'm coming. When I get back we'll discuss the house and some division of property. I expect us to keep it friendly and civil."

Leonard could find no words. He knew the reasons and had half-expected this. Still, he was stunned. In his massive insecurity he had known that she would leave him someday...had lived with that expectation for many years. When it happened, he was unprepared.

"Are you sure this is what you want? That this is not just some Empty Nest thing? What about all the years together? And all the years left to come? "

"I'm thinking about both, Len...the past years...when you were never there for me or for Jason. You were busy, I know that. You were being a provider...and a very good one. Somehow Jason and I ended up being an afterthought in your life. Jason was all that held us together. And now he's gone. And the future? What future? What will we do in this future of yours? I cannot really see any difference except that I will not have the comfort of my son."

Brief anger flashed through Leonard. Her son. Always like that. The two of them. Not him. He was never included. She raised the boy to be too soft, too gentle. She gave him too much and defeated his discipline. He would have made a man of him.

"With your son...(he stressed the words)...gone off now I always expected that we would have the freedom to go places and do things that we couldn't before. We always wanted to travel and see things. We put it off for all these years...now you've changed everything...all the plans..."

Another betrayal. Another reason to mistrust. He had made so many plans...

"Len, we never made plans. You made plans. You had expectations. You never shared them with me. We haven't really talked in maybe fifteen years. You have no idea what I want, what I need to be fulfilled. I know...we were busy with careers and raising Jason but...maybe you could have just asked...maybe just once?"

Len stared out the window at absolutely nothing. So this is how it ends. All the work and the struggle...the early years of macaroni and cheese...raising a kid who was never what Len wanted...whom Len never really understood...fighting for acceptance from her family. And it all ends like this. See? He had been right to be mistrustful and wary. He mumbled something about a phone call and hurried away.

He was on the phone for a long time. Miriam stared out the window and wondered if she were handling this right. Maybe this should have been discussed before they put Jason on the plane. No, she wanted to make his departure special. It would have been wrong to spoil it for him. On the other hand, she could not go back home with him. How empty that house would be with only the two of them...strangers for so long. What would they say to each other? Could she share with him how empty and lonely she felt? She never had been able to. Why would it be any different now?

Miriam smiled at Len when he returned from his phone call. "Who is she, Len? Another young one?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business...anymore. But, no...just a friend. Someone I can talk to and maybe make some sense of all this. And if it's a female friend...wouldn't that bother you...just a little maybe?"

"No. Not anymore. Not anymore at all. It's happened too many times. The girls and the lies...too many times. It isn't a matter of forgiving. Just a matter of not caring anymore."

He had never admitted his indiscretions to her. He had denied them to her even as he justified them to himself. When she had stumbled briefly into attraction to someone else he had felt himself justified and had never forgiven her.

With nothing left to say Len stood silently for several minutes. Miriam searched for some comforting words to leave him with. Somehow there were none. She still cared for him as a person and her tender heart did not want to see the sadness in his eyes. Yet, there was no urge to put her arms around him and comfort him.

"Let me know before you come home, okay? Call me at work."

Miriam almost smiled. Yes, so that you can get her out of our house. She thought to make a joke of it...but it didn't even deserve that much. She nodded and watched his retreating back. She glanced at the departure schedule on the overhead screen. Still almost an hour before her flight. Ever the manager, she had planned this hour but had thought that their conversation would take longer. Now there was too much time left.

She bought a Grande Latte, took her time sugaring it to taste, walked awhile and looked at the other people who were coming and going. What were their stories? Were other parents putting their kids on planes for college? Had any of these other women said a final good-bye to their husbands? Had other stunned men called girlfriends? How many stories were here? How many lovers parting or coming together? How many beginnings were there...how many endings?

Eventually, she was once again standing at the window...this time at a different departure gate. Too much time left. Thinking. Len would be fine. He was young enough at forty-five, still good-looking and in fairly good shape...and he had phone numbers to call. He would be fine. No, he wouldn't. Who was she kidding? He had never been fine and this would only exaggerate his paranoia and pessimism. This young thing would find out the truth about him and be gone the way of the others. God help her if she had kids. Now she would have another one to raise. She tried to find some guilt in herself. Sorry for him, yes. And wishing that he did not have the flaws that would decide his alone-ness. But guilt? No. Not that.

As for herself, she would be okay. She knew that. She was strong. She had managed a career and raised a son single-handedly. She was youthful at forty-three...long dark hair and dark eyes full of humor and compassion. Men still looked at her approvingly and even lustfully. She was still slender and firm and walked with assurance of her good-looks. Yes, she would be fine. She still had dreams and expectations and values. There would be nights of loneliness and sometimes of sheer terror. There would be times when she would doubt herself and her ability to make it on her own. She would overcome the fears and the doubts. She would be okay. Len might not find the kind of love he sought; she would.

She had known it once, briefly, a long time ago.

Isnala Mani

April 21, 2001

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