Chapter 58: Symbols and Other Things

On a whim, we checked how cold it was outside. It was cold, but not too chilly, and it felt fresh, so we decided to take a short walk. I went back to the room, grabbed our coats, and we went out. It was empty outside. Where the restaurant terraces lined up along the shore it was like a ghost town, so unlike how it would be in the summer, when the tables and chairs spilled over from the terrace to the wide promenade, filled with people, laughter, music, and the general humdrum of humanity.

The sky was still overcast, but slowly clearing up with the wind pushing the clouds. I had forgotten to check the weather forecast on TV in the dining room, but I hoped it would be clear skies tomorrow. Already a few bright stars could be seen between patches of clouds. We walked along the promenade until we reached the end. Then I steered us toward the shore where the cement pavement gave way to sand and gravel. The sea was lapping at the shore gently with a soft, soothing sound. The smell of decaying seaweed mixed with salt and iodine was strong.

I sat down on the sand, and pulled Dana to my lap. She sat sideways, and I put my arm around her so she could rest against my chest and arm comfortably. I lit up, but she declined, stealing a drag from mine every now and then. We sat there silently as we watched the few stars and the gentle waves that washed the shoreline. I felt at peace and content, maybe for the first time in a very long time despite the heavy talk we had had.

When I finished my cigarette, I flicked it out to the water, and then I pulled her in tighter, enclosing my arms around her. There was a cold breeze, and her hands were getting cold. She rested her head on my shoulder, and when her ice-cold nose made contact with my neck, I almost flinched, before pulling her back in to keep her warm.

"You're cold. We better get back," I said.

"No, I'm OK. I love this. Let's stay a bit longer."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

I was glad that she wanted to stay. I loved having her in my arms like that. In the back of my mind, something was already starting to stir. I knew what it was... remembrance of other times... I didn't want to go there. I didn't want to compare the past experiences with what I had now, right this moment. Yes, I did have similar nights with Rei, but they had been different, the times had been different, I had been a different person then. I knew that instinctively.

Why spoil it with comparisons when you know everything is different, every moment, every experience is different?

On the other hand, I wished it were summer, warm, and I had Dana on my lap, in my arms like she was now.

If wishes were horses...

Oh, God! Just shut up, will you!

I steered my thoughts to tomorrow, and made a preliminary plan, subject to revision, of course. Before leaving the island, visit the old church a few blocks away, then move to the other hotel in the town, and finally a short visit to the summer flat. I also wanted to put in an hour of Tai Chi practice, suddenly realizing how much I missed it, especially now that I was here. It was as if my beach was calling out to me, almost like the Siren's Song! I hoped I would have the opportunity.

Maybe early morning, here, by the shore, when it is quiet, and everybody is still asleep.

The short time I spent on making the plan helped me to avoid dwelling on other thoughts, recriminations. There was, however one question that kept repeating itself, but I didn't want to return to the subject.

Why did she tell me what she did? If she hadn't, I wouldn't have known...

Is it important? Let bygones be bygones!

And yet, the question kept me busy. Despite all the warning from my inner voice to put that question aside, I kept analyzing the situation. She could have easily hidden what she had done, and I wouldn't have been any wiser. I suspect it was because I wanted to avoid what we went through: the fight at the hill, the tension, and then the talk. Perhaps, the relative newness of our relationship was another factor. This early conflict worried me despite Dana's helping words.

"Mitch?" Dana broke the silence.

That took me out of my musings.

"What's on your mind?" she asked.

It was an opening, but suddenly, I had cold feet when I was just given the opportunity. I decided to avoid the matter. "Nothing. Why?"

That turned out to be a mistake!

"Mitch, please. Something seems to be bothering you..." she trailed off.

"Nope."

But she wasn't convinced easily. "Honey, you seem to be pre-occupied with something. What is it?" she insisted.

"Nothing. Nothing important," I replied. However, when she arched her eyebrow, reminding me we needed to communicate, I knew I couldn't avoid it. Not after all we talked about, not if I wanted us to get past our difficulties and continue. As she had said, we needed to talk and communicate, and I needed to learn to open up.

"I... I was..." I started but couldn't continue.

Shit! I don't want to talk—

Take a deep breath, and calm down. This is important!

My inner voice was right, so I took a moment to calm myself down, before I tackled the job of asking her 'why'.

"I don't want to return to the subject, but... but I was wondering why you told me what you did. I mean... I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me." I hastily added, "You don't have to explain if you don't want to. It's not important."

She sat quietly for a while, mulling over how she wanted to answer my question.

"I had to," she replied, at length. "I couldn't hide it... once I closed and locked your suitcase."

"Why?" I asked, before I realized how I sounded. "I mean... I'm not saying that you should have tried to hide it... I'm not trying to judge you one way or the other. But if it was only a matter of closing my suitcase, you could have left it open and—"

"I couldn't," she interjected. "Oh, I could have lied about it... something about not leaving things unlocked or unsecured in a hotel room..." She gave a soft sigh, before she continued. "I don't remember what I was thinking at the time. I just knew I couldn't leave your suitcase lying open when I discovered your diary. So I closed it."

"I see..."

She must have heard something in my tone, because the next thing she said was, "Mitch. Would you rather have not known what I did?"

"I... I don't know," I said. "Once, I heard Kathy say 'men aren't supposed to know everything, especially something that would hurt their feelings.' I couldn't let that go, so I returned the favor, but... but there's some truth to that I guess, even though it's a very patronizing, presumptuous thing to say." I gave her a rueful smile. "I know I'm guilty of doing that. A lot! Well, I mean being protective! But I really don't know how I feel about what she said. It's a gray area. There are so many things that factor in. There's trying to protect a person, of course, by keeping certain things to oneself, but I also don't like lies or telling them... another huge gray area, and a minefield. Yet, I do have my fair share—more than fair share—of telling lies. It's—"

She cut me off with, "But as you said life is full of gray areas. In fact, it's Cinevision color, not black and white, Mitch."

I smiled at her humorous attempt. "Yeah, I know, but I don't like it. Unfortunately, it is what it is, and I have to accept it as such. You know, I tried very hard to conform the world to my own sense of black and white, and it's a futile attempt, but that never stopped me from trying. It still doesn't... even right now, when I think and talk about it! Talk about Don Quixote! Anyway. I just don't know. What I mean is this: I wouldn't necessarily tell you whether I wanted to hear something or not. It's not fair to you because you had to make the decision to tell, or not to tell something, or how much to tell."

I tightened my arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. "Based on what I think I know about you, I would venture that you don't like secrets, and didn't want to keep it a secret," I concluded.

After a lengthy silence, she said, "I think I might have been trying not to chicken out."

"Huh? Chicken out?" I didn't understand what she was getting at.

"When I did spin the wheels on the lock, I knew I had to explain... explain why I locked your suitcase. I didn't want to tell you a lie. Once I found your diary, I was at a crossroads. And when I decided to look inside, I already passed the turning point. I would have to tell you what I did. But when I locked your suitcase, I knew I had to tell you," she explained hesitantly.

I listened to what she told me, but it took me several seconds before I finally made the connection to "chickening out." Then, everything she told me made perfect sense. As the realization set in, I gasped in surprise—

She cut off her safety line to—

Oh, God, Dana! You are... you're so much like me!

She had eliminated almost all the possibilities of avoiding the matter. Oh, yes, she could have lied, and hid what she had done, but first, she wasn't the kind to tell lies—at least that was what I thought she was like—and second, there was the off chance that she couldn't lie succes—

Wouldn't have worked. Not when you're indecisive or unsure about lying about something. Successful lying requires skill and decisiveness... and creativity.

I knew that. I should know it. After all, the successful telling of a lie is mostly accomplished by using part of the truth and a sense of conviction. I stopped my musings. I guess I was shaken! I knew that if I was giving into musings then I must have been more shaken than I wanted to admit. To tell the truth, discovering how alike we were had been a shock, because I would have done the same thing when facing a situation I didn't want to face, and yet, I knew I had to or felt obliged to face. There comes a time when you know you have to do something for one reason or another. Yet, you don't want to, and feel you might chicken out at the last moment, or suspect that your resolve might waver when the moment arrives. So what I did, when I found myself in such situations, was to cut off my safety lines, burn my bridges, buy a one-way ticket... leaving me only one course of action... to continue on the path I had started on—and face the music, of course! (Nope, I'm not chuckling, as it ain't funny!) When tenacity, resolve, decisiveness, or strong headedness hadn't been enough, when I thought I might have given in to temptation or a moment of weakness, that had been my solution, my savior—

And at times, my failure too. Regrettably!

I said before—and I still do sometimes—that I'm all for options. The more, the better. In general that's something I strive for, but not every single time. There are also times when having limited options are—were—a welcome change, and something of a relief—as in the situation I've just described.

It was also a part of me that I saw as a character weakness, and I hated it! It's one thing to do something despite being aware of its dire consequences, and still go ahead and do it. It's another thing to force yourself to do something, because you don't have any alternatives... because you've set in motion certain things that leave you no other alternatives but to follow through on the road you've started—a self-inflicted duress, if you will. The point is, it doesn't make your actions honorable, especially when you know that what you should do is morally the right thing to do. In fact, it lessens the value of what you did when you finally did what you should have done—but under duress of your own creation!

And she just admitted to chickening—

And I've never admitted to myself... not even when I knew what I was doing!

I didn't know what came over me, but suddenly I found myself pulling Dana into a tight embrace, as if to make her a part of me.

Then, I started kissing her hard, hungrily, before I managed to get a hold of myself, and softened my attentions to her. She managed to break free for a short moment, and blurted out a "what are you doing?" but I quieted her question with another kiss. If she had more questions in her mind, or wanted to pursue an answer to what I was doing to her, and why, she didn't express them. Instead, she gave in to my kisses, and for several minutes we kept kissing. Afterwards, when we settled down, she didn't say anything, and was content to sit in my lap, resting against my chest with my arms around her—almost like a cat, but she didn't purr... although I must say I imagined she was purring, quietly!

Eventually, I indicated we should return to the motel. Without a word, she stood up, and pulled me to my feet. I dusted off the sand from my pants, and we walked back to the motel.

When we walked in, we saw the owner's wife behind the reception desk. Dana stopped and asked for two glasses and a bottle of water to take to our room.

"I'll bring it to your room," she said.

"No need to go to the trouble. Is there anybody at the restaurant? I can pick them up," I said.

"That's all right," she replied, but when she saw me waiting expectantly, she left her station.

As we walked into the restaurant, I said, "I try to be an easy customer. I don't want to trouble anyone when I can do it myself."

She responded with a small smile. Pointing at one of the tables, she said, "The glasses are there. Let me get you a bottle of water from the fridge," and she headed to the kitchen.

She returned with a cold bottle of water, and we went back to the reception. Dana inquired about breakfast time and we learned it was from seven to nine. Wishing her a goodnight, Dana and I climbed the stairs.

"Why don't you serve us some brandy? It will warm us," Dana said.

While I filled our glasses, she took the cover off the bed, folded it neatly, and placed it on an empty chair. Then, she pulled back the blanket and the sheets to air the bed, before she went to the heater and put it on a higher setting. As before, she took off her shoes, and sat on the bed with a pillow at her back. I gave her one of the glasses, and she waited for me to take my seat next to the bed. Then we both raised our glasses before taking a sip of the brandy. I saw her close her eyes, and savor the taste. Although it was relatively cheap brandy, it was surprisingly smooth tasting.

We sat quietly for a few minutes, warming up with the brandy and settling in comfortably. Eventually, Dana broke the silence.

"I guess it's my turn, now, right?"

"If you feel like it, love."

"Mmmm... this is good. Hit the spot," she said, and took another sip from her glass. She closed her eyes, seemingly savoring the brandy.

I suspected she was collecting her thoughts. A momentary feeling of deja vu permeated, and made me wonder how she was feeling. For a while, I was busy with my glass, swirling the amber liquid with deft little movements, watching the patterns and thinking about how my life took on a different turn, not so long ago; another hotel room, another late night, another talk. Before I could follow the thoughts further Dana broke the silence.

"I want to tell you something I haven't told you before," she said softly, and I turned my attention to her. When our eyes met, she gave a strained smile. "I didn't want to, before, because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I was concerned... I'm still concerned that it would put undue pressure on you. On the other hand, after what we discussed, I believe you may understand..."

"What kind of pressure?"

"I didn't—don't—want you to think that I have certain expectations... like a promise or commitment... I don't want you to misunderstand it for what it is not. But I want you to understand what it is. It's about need and sharing," she replied softly, trailing off.

"OK. I'm warned, and I'll keep that in mind. Please, tell me."

"When we met each other, you remember we had talked about a lot of things, and you asked me why I approached you at the airport. I told you some things, but that wasn't all of it. Well, it wasn't the complete story. I told you what happened: seeing Rei and you in the plane, seeing her red-eyed in the lounge, the cancellation of my flight, then the chance encounter with you when I was leaving the airport. They all happened as I told you. I put two and two together, but that had been rather easy, once I saw you standing there. That chance encounter was... well, it was a trigger, and I took a chance... although it wasn't planned. But..."

When she paused, trying to assess how I was taking what she said, I asked, "If it wasn't planned, then what was it?"

"It wasn't planned at all. I might have passed by where you were standing, earlier or later, missing you entirely, or my flight might not have been cancelled. It was pure chance. But at the time, I thought it was fate or something." Her eyes locked with mine. "You see I wanted to meet you. When the opportunity presented itself, so unexpectedly, I took advantage of it. There you were, standing so lost, and I knew something bad happened; it wasn't difficult to connect the dots. I watched you for a while debating if I should or shouldn't, and minutes passed... I knew I had to make a decision. I decided to meet you."

She tilted her head, giving me a questioning look—and perhaps trying to assess how I was taking her revelation—but I wanted to hear more, so I indicated her to continue.

"I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the very beginning. I don't know if you remember, but I was in the galley, right across the stairs as you boarded the plane. You were a sight. Then you took off your sunglasses, and it got worse. I mean I haven't seen anybody look so bad. It was obvious you were tired and hadn't slept, or rested for a long time: bloodshot, sunken eyes, lines of worry and weariness. They were easy to see, but you also carried yourself with... I don't know... a sense of purpose? You looked weary, and tired, but your eyes were alive; you were calm, but tense at the same time. We see people overworked, stressed, and tired, but you looked... different. My first impression was 'from what kind of hell did he emerge?' because you reminded me of some of the military personnel or police I've seen. As you turned into the passenger cabin and stood there, I realized you were looking for someone, a passenger. But then... imagine my surprise when it turned out who you were looking for!"

"I think I'm getting the picture," I said. "Weren't you concerned if I might be a criminal or something? I remember the way I looked..."

"No, not really. It might have crossed my mind and perhaps that was one reason I kept watching you, but you didn't fit into a neat profile. I didn't get the impression of someone on the run or with a harmful intent. As I said, I came across military personnel before on that route, and some of them had a weary, haunted look in their eyes mixed with relief, as if... as if they were glad to be away. You had something similar, but also different. It's difficult to explain. We see a lot of things, you know? Besides, the security is very tight in the airport."

"Yes, it's very secure. After all, it's a military airport," I said. "You know something, this is very disconcerting! I mean what you're telling me. I wouldn't want to look like a soldier or law enforcement, especially there. That could make me a target."

"I don't know, Mitch. I don't think so. I know I'm contradicting myself, but you don't come across as military or police. I think it was an unusual situation. Now, I know that you were tired from work, and Reina must have put you off balance." She gave me a curious look. "By the way, how did you know she was on the flight?"

"I didn't."

That earned me a very puzzled look. "Then, how... why were you looking for her?"

"I wasn't," I replied remembering the episode, seeing it all happen again, like a filmstrip fast forwarding. I let out a tired sigh, and tried to shake off the uneasiness the memory brought. "Well, I was and I wasn't. It's... it's hard to explain. I... I felt she might be on the flight. I don't know how, considering the odds, but I had a sense of... maybe in my subconscious I was hoping to come across her... maybe I had that expectation each time I boarded a plane... who knows? I knew she was a flight attendant, but the strange thing is, I hadn't thought about her for a very long time. I mean over the last few years, I kind of buried myself in my work, and kept the thoughts of her at bay. So, I don't know how I can explain it. That's why I was agitated at the time. I was wondering if she really was on the flight..."

"Maybe you had a premonition?"

I laughed at her suggestion, but it was a strained laugh, and quickly I said, "Sorry. I wasn't laughing at you. I... I don't want to dismiss it, but I don't believe in that kind of thing. At least, I don't believe I have that kind of ability. Maybe other people have that. I've heard stories, but I'm a skeptic when it comes to things like that. On the other hand..." I shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't think I have that—"

"But you have good instincts," Dana objected quickly.

"Maybe... sometimes..." I replied. "Sometimes, I can sense danger, or when something is out of tune. In that respect, my instincts are good. I guess it comes from my training in the Arts. But then again, I was caught unaware at the parking lot with the three assailants. Hard to say really... what is, and what is not." Giving her an apologetic smile, I reminded her we were moving away from the subject of our talk. "Shall we..."

"Sorry, honey. It just came as a surprise. Maybe we could talk about it later?"

Automatically, I made a little face.

"All right," she said, giving me an indulging smile, acquiescing to my wish. "Where was I? Oh, yes, Reina. I realized you knew each other, especially when she gave you the preferential treatment. I'm not usually a nosy person, but my curiosity was getting the better of me, so I continued to watch you two. For one thing, I knew Reina and I've seen some of her friends. You didn't fit in to any of those. Your interaction was also puzzling. It was very intimate, but there was an underlying feeling of reservation, distance; I suspected you were a former friend. That was surprising, because Reina never showed preferential treatment to former friends, strictly staying professional, unless some situations dictated she be a bit more diplomatic, a bit friendlier. But she always remained within bounds of professionalism, and she was never intimate with them at all. Yet, here you were, and she was acting the way she did. As we were getting ready for the take off, I made sure I was situated close to you to observe."

She stopped, mulling something in her mind, and I waited patiently until she resumed. "When Rei left your side, I saw how you looked at her. Wistful, longing... mixed with hurt, or pain... and yet. I don't know what it was, but I thought it was," she paused again, gave me a soft look, and with a very tender tone she said, "I thought it was a look of love. How a man should look at a woman. That was what my mind conjured up, first. I remember thinking, 'what a lucky woman Rei is!'"

Her voice cracked at that last bit, her emotions getting the better of her.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I don't—"

"Please, don't... it's all right... it's all right, Mitch. It really is. Please let me finish, then you'll understand. OK?"

Leaving my seat, I went to Dana. Kneeling in front of her, I took her hand in mine, and she didn't resist. I kissed her palm, and then we embraced, sharing a long kiss, and ending it with several small kisses. When I felt she was feeling all right—well, as good as she could feel under the circumstances—I returned to my seat.

She took a long sip from her glass and cleared her throat, before she resumed her tale. "Then Rei's response to you... the interaction. It was a strange dance. Nothing I had witnessed before, especially from Rei, and I didn't know anything about you except how awful you looked. All my speculations were shot to hell, and I didn't know what to make of you two, or your interaction. And that look you gave her... I hadn't had much luck with men, as you know. It reminded me... well, it reminded me what I was missing. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but I wanted to get to know you. Just to confirm that I was dreaming things up... that the reality would hardly hold up to the dream. You understand? And I was curious. It's like... you see a person that catches your attention, arouses your curiosity, and then you begin to wonder who they are, what they are like, and... you know?"

"Yes," I said slowly. "I do know. We all do that at one time or another. When we have difficult times, and see people, couples around us, or a complete stranger..."

"Precisely. So you see, I was wondering. But of course, I knew I didn't have a chance to make contact with you. We don't do things like that. It was just a thought. We wonder, but put it aside..." she said.

I concluded what she left unsaid. "Unless... unless an opportunity presents itself... but even then we put it aside, walk away..."

She nodded with a small smile. "Yes. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. Later, when I saw Reina in the lounge, and knew she had cried, I thought that you hurt her, like her other men did. But I didn't want to believe that, and I kept telling myself there should be more to it than that. Oh, yes, with the way you looked, I was inclined to assign all the blame to you, but I just couldn't reconcile your look of love to her and you hurting her on purpose. I also knew Reina had broken up with many men, but she hardly gave a thought to any one of them. So why did she take whatever happened so hard? Then she left for her flight, and sometime later I learned my flight was cancelled. I was on my way out to get a taxi when I saw you. At first, I thought I was mistaken, and was going to leave, but something—maybe curiosity—stopped me. I just wanted to make sure." She flashed a quick and rueful smile. "You know how it is. If I had left without making sure, it would have kept me awake the whole night..."

"I know the feeling," I responded.

"When I got closer I realized it was really you... and suddenly pieces started to fall into place. The way you were standing there... something touched me. I realized you really cared for her and something bad happened that hurt both of you... and I felt drawn to you. Partly, I recognized the hurt and pain. I also wanted to know what happened. So it was a mixture of a lot of things..." she trailed off. "You know the rest."

"And you didn't tell me then, because?"

"I didn't want you to draw the wrong conclusions, especially after we got involved. I didn't want to get in between the two of you. I still don't. You need some kind of closure. Whether we continue or break up."

"Yes, but..." I sighed in frustration. "What I'm getting at is Rei is between us. You're looking at it as you being between Rei and I, but that's not the only way to look at it."

"I know. Maybe neither of us is correct," she suggested. "Maybe I'm trying to protect you, and you're trying to protect me."

"Are we? Because I'm not sure what I feel for Rei. She's changed in some ways, and I don't know what she became. Sure, I was in love with that girl, but I don't know if I'm in love with this girl, because I don't know her. May—"

"But you love her," Dana interjected.

"Correction, if you please. I loved her." I cleared my throat, feeling tense. "Look, Dana, I love you, and this is really difficult for me, because... because I thought Rei was in the past. I wanted to leave her in the past, and I really don't want to think about Rei or talk about—"

"But, Mitch, you still feel something for her," she interjected.

"I don't know what or how I feel about her, but I do know what or how I feel about you. That's one thing I'm certain about, perhaps the only thing in this mess! Already, I have a full plate. And here's something else. I hate to bring this up, but there's Sarah, too. I love her too, but it's different from what I feel for you."

I stopped and took a deep, cleansing breath, but it didn't help to calm my growing anxiety. "It's... it's an impossible situation. Sometimes... sometimes I wish she wasn't on that plane... it would have been so much easier..." I trailed off.

After a long silence, Dana responded, "No, Mitch. You know that." Then, her expression changed into one of mischief, and she added, "I would have reported you to the authorities, and you would have been taken into custody."

I laughed at her quip, and she joined in. I guess we both needed it at that moment. It felt good to laugh again. When I managed to catch my breath, I retorted, "God, you're impossible sometimes."

"I know."

I chuckled. Unsaid but ever present between us was the knowledge that we loved each other. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her reply, and I knew she could see it on my face. As I made a move to stand up, she waved me back. Our eyes locked, and I knew she knew how I felt.