New Horizons

Finding Sarah again, after losing touch forty years ago was wonderful for Paul. Saying goodbye after seven months of loving bliss felt terrible.

The weather had turned cooler. Dark clouds hovered above like ghosts. Even the flowers in his garden had dropped their heads, as if they sensed today was going to be different.

Paul re-packed her suitcases for the umpteenth time, trying to squeeze three loads into two, beads of perspiration on his brow. He had planned to do so much this morning. Walk by the river, laughing and talking. Frustrated, he bounced on the suitcase in a desperate attempt to try and engage its stubborn retaining lock.

The wall clock looked on, unsympathetically, its hands racing along without a care.

Outside, birds were strangely absent.

Sixty minutes disappeared in the blink of an eye, and before Paul knew it, it was time for them to leave for the airport.

He drove slowly, trying to slow down time. But the journey was just a blur through his heavy eyes, and was like most things today, happening too quickly. Even the traffic lights were stuck on green.

The airport parking lot loomed up ahead like a graveyard, its boom gate waiting restlessly as they approached. Its arm rose the instant Paul pressed the button. The parking lot was full, but amazingly, a space near the building’s entrance beckoned him.

A line of trolleys stood to attention close by. He walked towards them, put three meaningless dollars in the slot, listened to the annoying clank of the release mechanism, returned to his car, put the heavy suitcases on the trolley, and pushed the trolley towards the airport building.

The airport’s entry doors shuddered and sprang open. A blast of cold air hit him full in the face like an Arctic gale, but it couldn’t budge his lethargy.

The ticket queue moved quickly. Everything seemed to be moving quicker than usual today. Soon, the queue was empty, apart from Sarah, the trolley, the suitcases and Paul.

Within seconds the woman at the counter called “Next.

The scales bounced and trembled under the weight, as Paul let go of the first suitcase, and then the second.

“Too much weight,” the young attractive blond haired woman said in a Scandinavian accent, confirming his previous fear that the cases might be too heavy.

“This case is full of souvenirs,” Paul pleaded, trying desperately to change her mind.

“I’ve been here seven months, and had to bring a lot of clothes for the various weather conditions,” explained Sarah.

“Wait,” the young woman relented. “I will consult with my supervisor.”

After a brief conversation with her supervisor, the young woman returned. “I can give you an extra five kilograms.”

“That makes thirty five?” queried Paul.

Her mumbled reply confirmed it did. “You need to remove seven kilograms. There are some scales over there,” the young woman explained, pointing towards the corner of the building.

Paul and Sarah hastily returned to the car, ignoring the scales, and in full view of puzzled onlookers in the parking lot, started to remove clothes, and other items less likely to be used from Sarah’s suitcases, until, Paul thought they should make the target weight. He roughly compared the weight of the removed items, with the weight of a carry on bag he had weighed previously, and decided the suitcases should now be light enough.

They returned to the ticket queues, which were still quiet.

The same young woman was free, and once again, beckoned them over to the counter, where she greeted them with a smile as they approached.

Paul placed the suitcases on the scales once more and it registered - thirty-six point five kilograms. Surely, she won’t send us away again, just to remove one-point six kilograms, he thought, fidgeting, and blaming himself for trying to put too much in the suitcases in the first place.

The young woman proceeded to push buttons on her computer, suggesting to him, she was going to allow it. The appearance of boarding tickets told him she was, the weight would be allowed.

“You will be boarding via gate two,” she concluded, and passed the tickets to Sarah.

They thanked her, and proceeded to the lift, which was already waiting.

They took the lift to the upper floor, where shops, cafes and the departure gates were.

At one of the cafes, Paul ordered two coffees, soup for him and a cake for Sarah.

The café was extremely busy, and the time was still racing.

Twenty minutes later, nothing had appeared and Paul was getting more and more agitated. We are running out of time, he thought. All he wanted to do was enjoy what precious time was left.

When it seemed all was lost, the waiter arrived with coffees and cake, but no soup.

Another ten minutes passed. It was half past two, and there was still no sign of his soup. “If it doesn’t arrive soon, I might cancel it,” he said, getting more anxious by the minute. He flicked his pained gaze around and checked his watch.

Two more precious minutes, and finally, his soup arrived, prompting him to wonder, why he had got so worried over a bowl of soup. He looked at his watch for the umpteenth time, and wiped the beads of perspiration from his brow.

Twenty minutes more and they must part. Why, can’t the clocks stop! He said it begging, in the privacy of his own mind, but he knew he was asking the impossible.

He checked his watch, the time had reached ten minutes to three, and there was only ten more precious minutes left before he had to say goodbye, for who knows how long.

Minutes seemed like seconds to him now, and there was hardly enough time to exchange their last embrace and say, “I love you,” as they both fought the tears in their helpless longing eyes.

A wheelchair appeared to take Sarah away. His spirits slumped, and rose again, as he watched the lady take someone else away.

But, inevitably, the lady returned with the wheelchair. They embraced for the last time, and she was gone in an instant.

Paul stared at the empty door. He stood there, looking at the doorway, hoping she would return. But, he knew she wouldn’t.

He gathered his composure, turned and reluctantly walked towards the escalator, wiping his tears, hoping nobody was watching.

Once downstairs in the arrival’s lounge, he waited for his neighbour and her daughter to appear, who were returning from Japan, or “Japaaaan,” as his neighbour pronounced it.

Twenty minutes to four, his neighbour’s daughter stepped through the doorway into the crowded arrivals lounge.

She saw him and waved.

“Where’s your mother?” he asked giving her a hug.

“She’s waiting in the customs line.”

“Of course,” he realised. “She’s not travelling on an Australian passport.”

Four o’clock arrived, and there was still no sign of his neighbour, and Sarah was due to take off at any moment, and he was desperately hoping to snatch one last precious glimpse of her as she left, even if all he could see was the aeroplane.

Ten more precious minutes passed and there was still no sign of his neighbour. Why is she taking so long? I don’t want to miss seeing Sarah leave he agonised.

He walked outside to see if there was any sign of an aircraft in the sky. It was still cloudy and he doubted whether he would be able to see anything anyway.

He returned inside and waited. Two more minutes and his neighbour walked through the doorway, and looked around at the waiting crowd.

Paul waved and gained her attention and greeted her like a brother greets his sister.

She was so excited and couldn’t stop talking about – “Japaaaan.”

All Paul wanted to do was get moving quickly so he could hopefully see Sarah leave. Somehow, he managed to prise his neighbour’s mind away from “Japaaaan” and towards his immediate need.

They proceeded quickly outside to the pay machine, and then to the car, and there was still no sight or sound of an aircraft, prompting him to think, I must have missed her. Damn Japaaaan.

He wrestled with their suitcases and finally got them into the car boot, whilst his neighbour was still chattering on about her damned “Japaaaan.”

It was twenty-five minutes past four when he put the parking ticket into the boom gate panel, watched the arm rise, and drove away with far more haste than he had arrived with.

He negotiated two roundabouts and came to a sudden stop at the highway traffic lights, annoyed that he was not going to see Sarah.

When suddenly, the car body vibrated, causing him to lower the car’s window. Immediately, he heard the roar of jet engines. The sound increased until out of the corner of his right eye, he saw a blue finned aircraft come into view, and then, felt the back draft of air as it turned and continued to climb.

His frazzled mind clawed at the huge aircraft, in a pathetic attempt to halt its progress.

But it was hopeless; he was powerless to stop it. So he waved hopelessly and held back a tear, as its huge wing dipped at the spot where most international aircraft normally do, as it plodded relentlessly on its way.

The traffic lights changed to green, so he set off and tried to drive with one eye, and watch the aircraft with the other.

The aircraft headed directly towards his house, where the flowers she had planted were smiling now and frolicking with the breeze. Even the birds had returned and were singing in the trees, and on hearing the roar of the jet engines, the flowers and the birds seemed to look towards the sky and watch the huge plane pass by.

An invisible loving hand blew a kiss from the sky, prompting him to remember her promise. I shall come back.

The aircraft was just a speck of light now, as it headed for new horizons. Soon, it was like a tiny-ray of sunshine, in a sky that never shone, and his wet eyes watched that ray of sunshine, long after all hope of light had gone.