Days Beyond Compare

By TOM E. WEIGHTMAN

A reunion between a father and a son intended to heal the wounds of their past paints a picture of the possibilites and potential pitfalls that lie ahead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TUX PUBLISHING
• Release date: Oct 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386062042

TOM E. WEIGHTMAN

Tom E. Weightman has been writing since he was a teenager, off and on, working a variety of other jobs in the process.  

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated to all my friends and supporters who support me in my work.  Thanks for the plug.

1

Misery laid its heavy hand upon the face of the city like a wet glove over an unsuspecting victim's face.  Appearing in the guise of a drab cloud front, it had taken up residence in the sky above the city yesterday afternoon and grew unpretentiously in strength and petulance as the hours ticked on. 

Like a policeman from the local precinct, the meteorologist on last night’s news downplayed its potential and predicted it would pass over in a day or two.  All eyes were fixed on it.  It skulked in the atmosphere through the course of the night and into the morning, threatening to unleash its fretful power, but refrained in brooding form.

Come mid-morning, however, the turbulent cloud formations burst down from the sky with tyrannical force and rampaged across the city with unmitigated fury, inflicting massive damage over a wide swath of real estate and mucking up the lives of ordinary people everywhere.  Roads became snarled, streetlights went on the blink, and vehicular accidents piled up mile after mile. 

At the airport, the malicious outpouring of sleet and snow pressed down upon the sprawling steel and concrete complex with crippling severity.  Taxis, vans and buses mixed in stop-and-go fashion with the glut of automobiles that were traversing the tangle of transportation corridors that crisscrossed the facility. 

The red zone in front of the main terminal was jammed with people getting in and out of an assortment of vehicles, grappling with luggage, and scampering for the comfort and protection of the climate-controlled interior.  From the parking lot, hordes of pedestrians tramped in huddled formation along ice-covered walkways, shielding one another from the whack of the wind and the slap of snow and ice that descended from the sky, collars up, heads down, struggling for safe footing with each step they took.

Upon entering the protection of the terminal, visitors met with a tide of complaint and confusion mixed with an undercurrent of fun and frolic.  The noise, quadraphonic and pulsing, echoed from the high ceiling of the superstructure like one would expect to hear in the great hall in the sky where the souls of men yet unjudged pose tentatively between reward and punishment. 

Long lines of travelers had formed in front of ticket counters and boarding booths, where a cadre of trained professionals flipped through ticket packs, tapped on keyboards and clicked through computer screens in a valiant effort to avert disaster and maintain a semblance of order.  A steady stream of announcements poured out from the public address system, bespeaking the large and growing number of flight delays and cancellations that had suddenly accumulated on account of the rapid deterioration in the weather, directing the stranded masses on where to go and what to do for specific problems or concerns.

Amidst the hubbub and hoopla, one stalwart traveler with a duffel bag strapped to his shoulder trudged through the accumulating crowds with a deportment that did not mask the seriousness of his pursuit.  He slipped between people and around long lines with nary a letup in pace until reaching one of the large electronic flight boards that were set at strategic locations throughout the terminal. 

Retrieving a ticket packet from the inside of his coat, he cross-checked the information therein with what was on the flight board until it confirmed what he had already suspected.  His outgoing flight had been delayed and he was now at the mercy of the weather on when he would depart. 

Accepting his plight with sober resignation, the young man tucked his ticket pack back inside his coat pocket and resumed his trek down the crowded concourse at a less lively pace.  The place was turning into a veritable madhouse.  The number of travelers hit with flight delays or cancellations was swelling the ranks of people within the terminal like water behind a dam.  Folks who hadn't taken up refuge in one of the seating areas at one of the many gates tramped the concourse in fazed fashion, ducking in and out of shops or crowding into one or another of the eateries that marked the path.  Long lines stretched everywhere.  A cacophony of noise and confusion echoed through the cavernous confines.

Upon reaching his designated gate of departure, the young man surveyed the scene in front of him with casual flair.  People from one side of the crowded space to the other were girded in different mind sets and engaged in different activities.  Many participated in light conversation.  A large number read through paperback books.  Others flipped through newspapers or thumbed through magazines.  A fair number scanned the Net on electronic devices tuned to the airport Wi-Fi.  A quiet few just sat and stared out the huge safety glass windows at the unfolding storm like they were watching a big screen television. 

It was certainly a monster to behold.  Blankets of snow fell from the sky and piled up on the ground in ever-thickening layers.  Tarps that covered equipment and baggage carts whipped wildly in the wind.  Visibility was dwindling rapidly. 

The number of incoming and outgoing flights diminished as the minutes ticked by and the storm plied its torrential handiwork.  A lagging jet straggled in from the clouds every now and again in these waning minutes of opportunity, plunking down between the strips of glowing safety lights and roaring down the runaway in a billow of sleet and snow until slowing to taxi speed.  The terminal grew thicker and rowdier as each late-arriving jet expunged its passengers and sent them into the crowds of folk already waiting, adding to the blather and bitching that bespoke the consequences and inconveniences that the storm was creating. 

Sighting a suitable spot to sit, the young man navigated a route through the sprawl of legs and bags to a place near the center of the room, dropped his travel bag to the floor, and sank into the seat.  Breathing a sigh of relief, he did nothing for the first couple of minutes save watch the storm beyond the windows and the people surrounding him who were handling in their own unique styles the excitement of life and the doldrums of time. 

Fine day to be traveling, he finally breathed to the person man in the seat next to him.

The weather is simply atrocious, the older man grumped.  I’d been better off staying home. 

I suppose home would be the next best thing to being on a plane, the young man concurred.  

My sentiments exactly, the older man harrumphed.  There are a lot of folk who need to get somewhere with no way to do it. 

Obliging the older man’s telling desire to remain unbothered, the young man reached down and began digging through the pockets of his travel bag.  It was packed with an assortment of odds and ends he had crammed in at the last minute to ease the rigors of traveling and add to its memories.

He ended up pulling out a small camera purchased especially for this trip and began monkeying around with it, ensuring it was ready for action.  While toying with the controls, he accidentally pressed the picture button and sent a flash of white light into the face of the older man seated next to him. 

Sorry! the young man yelped, offering an apologetic smile, I didn’t mean to do that. 

Careful where you point that thing, the older man ruffed like he had just been sprayed with mace.  You might end up blinding someone with it.

My apologies, the young man reiterated as he stuffed the camera back into his strapped bag, embarrassed by the inappropriate and accidental action.  After searching through it some more, he pulled out a crossword puzzle and began working on it.  It proved to be a tough one, with several long words and hazy definitions, complicated by the fact that he did not have a dictionary.  Culling through the list, up and down and then across, he came up with some of the shorter and easier answers, but remained far from completion by the time he reached the end.  He went through it again, racking his brain for additional answers, only to discover by the time he finished that he was no closer to finishing it than the first time around. 

He fiddled with it some more, spot-checking questions and answers, scratching in what he could, trying to make things work, but it proved to be a tough nut to crack.  By the time he stopped to stretch and yawn, it felt like days had passed since he first sat down, only to discover much to his surprise when he checked the time that nary an hour had ticked off.  Sheesh!  He thought.  Time had slowed to a crawl.  He wondered what he could do to speed things up. 

It made no sense sitting here the rest of the morning, fidgety and friendless, waiting for the weather to clear and the delay to end.  There was no telling when that would be.  Stuffing everything back into his bag, he decided to take a walk and check out some of the shops.  Who knew what he would find? 

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he maneuvered through the clutter of legs and luggage, smiling modestly and offering apologies, making his way back to the concourse.  With no clear-cut destination in mind, he commenced a slow gait that took him wherever his legs would carry him. 

The weather all along the concourse continued to be the talk of the terminal.  No one knew how many people were affected or how many flights had been delayed or canceled, but judging from the sights and sounds that surrounded him, it was more than just a few. 

Beyond the windows, the wind blew in massive gusts and snow fluttered down in ever-thickening layers.  Activities across the city had come to a virtual standstill and all across the landscape a spectacular bleakness had settled in.  No one knew how long the conditions would last or when flight operations would resume, but all accepted their fate and were prepared better or worse to wait it out until it was over. 

The storm, with a mind of its own, held them in its clutches.

2

Moving in unhurried fashion, his feet soon brought him to the airport food court.  The aroma of assorted cuisine that wafted through the open air and the myriad of happy faces huddled around the splurge of stylish tables quickly lured him into its lair.  A bite to eat would no doubt be just the cure for the lingering blahs.

The establishment he chose to patronize sported a glass display case filled with pies, cakes and pastries that captured his eyes from a distance.  He stepped to the end of a line and, inch by laborious inch, began the slow march forward.  As he was minding his own business, someone stepped in front of him in order to reach the packets of sugar and other condiments spread out on the counter beyond, forcing him to step backward and bump into the person behind.  He turned to offer an apology, meeting the flustered face of a woman who almost dropped her smartphone when she was bumped, fretting over what had almost happened and thankful she'd had the dexterity to keep herself under control and grab the blessed thing before it plunged to the floor. 

I’m very sorry about that, the young man uttered, offering a red-faced apology.  I hope I didn’t damage anything.

I'm fine, the woman squeaked, collecting her emotions and returning his sorry smile with a curt one of her own.  My phone's fine.  Thank God I didn't drop it.  It's an expensive piece of equipment I cannot afford to do without.

I was forced to make room for someone who wanted to pass in front of me, the young man explained, trying to appease her peevishness with what he hoped would pass for a perfectly logical excuse.  I should have looked before I moved.

It's all right, the woman replied, past the point of wrath and allowing her erstwhile calm to return.  Nothing's broken.  I'm just a little shaken.  I'd be lost without my phone.  It's an absolute requirement for my job.

What kind of work do you do? the man blithely inquired.

I’m a sales rep for a consumer products company, the woman answered, soothed by his interest.  I was just checking my calendar to see which appointments needed rescheduling on account of this weather delay.  I hope we're back in the air soon.  Otherwise my whole trip may be spoiled.

The storm has thrown everyone a curve ball, the young man asserted with an easy smile. 

It’s enough to give me split ends, the woman retorted, shaking her head and showing her bob. 

The man on closer inspection saw that the woman was not as old as she first appeared.  She had auburn hair trimmed just above the shoulders, olive eyes outlined in black and full round lips painted pink and evincing a strong hint of seduction.  Her profile was attractive and her outfit, though conservative, was suitable for business as well as non-business entertainment.

My name is Jim, the young man introduced with boyish aplomb, offering his hand.

I’m Sharon, the woman replied, reciprocal in her politeness, returning her hand.

I hope your clients take the delay as well as you, Jim said amicably as they shook to their new found friendship.  At least they can’t knock your excuse.

That’s true, Sharon responded with a charitable smile. I was hoping to squeeze in a couple more appointments, but that doesn’t look possible now that I'm stranded here.  I may have to add an extra day or two to my trip to accomplish everything I had planned.

What's your destination? Jim inquired in debonair fashion.

I’m heading to the Bay Area, Sharon rejoined with a casual style that bespoke her intrepid business outlook.  My office does all my booking.  I just go where I'm sent.  How about you?  What’s your destination?

I’m off to the Columbia Gorge, Jim answered confidentially.

That’s such a pretty place this time of year, Sharon retorted.

You've been there, then? Jim inferred.

Yes I have, Sharon replied with confidence, and I hope to make it there again one of these days.

It’s my first time, Jim explained. My father lives there.  He paid the airfare, so I was reluctant to pass up on the opportunity to visit.

That sounds like fun, Sharon chirruped, You’re father must be a pretty nice man.  Immediately she wished she hadn’t made the statement after she saw the look on Jim’s face.

We have our issues, Jim answered with a ponderous expression. Things said and done in the past have left us at odds with each other.  This will be an opportunity to sort things out and clear the air.

True to her better business sense, Sharon sought to repair the damage with a touch of diplomacy.  It sounds like the ideal time to leave the past where it lies and move into the future.  She hoped she wasn’t overstepping her bounds offering such encouragement.  Issues in a relationship are sometimes best expressed when things are left unsaid, she bolstered.  An apt word will appear at the proper time and making up will be easier than first imagined.

Jim smiled at the thought.  So much time has passed since we last saw each other, he said, that I'm not sure what to expect.  I guess we owe each other this visit if there is any hope left in making a future of our relationship.

That’s the attitude, Sharon said supportively. I wish you the very best and hope you and him have many happy years to come.

That's so nice of you, Jim responded modestly. 

They chatted in nonchalant fashion for a few more minutes as they inched their way forward.  Pretty soon, they were at the front of the line, waiting to place their orders.

How may I help you? the uniformed server asked as they stepped up to the counter. 

Jim, after examining the menu and glimpsing the selections, replied with a friendly face, I'd like a slice of your Pecan Pie and a large cup of coffee.

It’s been one of our best sellers, the server noted.

That's what I like to hear, Jim returned happily.  If it tastes as good as it looks, I'll be a happy man!

All we sell is par excellent, the server with resounding pride, and guaranteed to please.

Cheers to quality, Jim declared, smiling big and breathing in the aroma and basking in the atmosphere that permeated the place.

And for you, ma'am? the server asked, nodding to Sharon, who had stepped up to the counter when Jim did. 

I’ll have an apple strudel, Sharon said cheerily, and a large cup of coffee. 

She and Jim jabbered all the while the server fetched their orders.  The line behind them was still pretty long.  The food court was still fairly full.  The weather outside was rough and the wind continued to huff and puff in unrestrained bursts.

It might be a problem finding a place to sit, Jim ventured as he gazed about the area.

It’s quite the packed house, Sharon said, checking things out.  It would do me good to get off my feet for awhile.

I feel the same, Jim said, then without hesitation, asked, Do you want to share a table?

That’d be swell, if we can find one, Sharon rejoined.

I’ll keep my eyes open, Jim replied. 

The server quickly returned with their full complement of orders.  She told Jim the price and he peeled off a couple of bills to pay the bill.  They took their orders and walked to the edge of the food court,  searching for an open table.  The place was jammed with nearly every seat taken.  After a bit, they saw a table on the far side being vacated and quickly scooted over to claim the empty seats.

Once situated, they resumed the conversation where they had left off.  None of it was too heavy or off the deep end.  It was just stuff to pass the time and make it through their bite to eat.  They laughed and joked about the situation they were in, stranded at the airport, waiting for the weather to clear, neither having any idea how long it would be before they would depart, but glad to have found someone to share some of the down-time.  By the time they finished their fare, they seemed to have a pretty tight relationship going and those around who had not seen them meet considered them good friends if not intimate companions when they rose to leave. 

The weather by now had gone from miserable to downright treacherous.  Conditions outside had turned into a total white-out.  The wind was whipping like a cat-of-nine tails and driving snow at an angle that was more horizontal than vertical.  It splattered against the safety glass windows like someone throwing handfuls of snow against the windshield of a car. 

Flight operations at the airport, for all intents and purposes, had come to a standstill.  Groups of jets huddled around the boarding ramps that lined the main terminal and its assorted branches.  There was no detection of working equipment or active personnel. 

Teems of people roamed the long-stretch of concourse while uncounted others languished in the numerous waiting areas that dotted the path.  Outbound travelers who lived in the immediate vicinity had long since traded in their tickets for a better day to come and gone back home.  A fortunate few had made alternate connections and managed to depart before the worst of the storm had hit.  What was left were those who were in for the long haul, waiting it out until the worst was over and the jets could take to the skies again.  No one knew how long that would be. 

After disposing their trash, they merged back into the flow of foot traffic on the concourse and commenced a waltzing gait to nowhere in particular.  Here we are, roaming the great indoors of this magnificent terminal, awaiting our escape, Jim noted with an easy smile.  It looks like we’ll be here for a while.

It appears that way, Sharon concurred with friendly ease.

It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Jim uttered with the utmost in savoir faire, preparing to part company and proceed with whatever the rest of the afternoon had in store.  I appreciate these brief moments we've had to chit chat.

The feeling is mutual, Sharon returned with a charitable smile. It was nice not to have to eat alone.  I've appreciated the company and wish you well on your visit to your father.

Thanks for the sympathy, Jim said, taken back by her simple concern.  My very best wishes extend to you on your upcoming business ventures.

Thank you very much, Sharon responded with an amiable smile.

As they stood and stared at each other for a few stretched out seconds, Jim suddenly blurted, before the moment passed, Would you care to join me in browsing the newsstand and gift shops? 

It would be fun, Sharon replied remorsefully, but I have work to do,  I need to call my boss and shuffle some appointments.  Maybe we can do it later."

That'd be neat, Jim voiced a tad high-pitched. 

Admiring her swank and charm, he watched her walk away and disappear into the creeping crowds of pedestrians, thinking wistfully how serendipitous it had been to run into her and how nice it would be if they were to meet again.

3

After Sharon disappeared into the crowd, Jim peered around and considered his options.  His mind was numbed by the thought of being alone again.  He began moping down the long stretch of concourse like a little kid whose best friend had just moved to the other side of town.  Maybe they'd see each other again, maybe they wouldn't. 

Harrumph!  What a tough way to step into the future.

Sorting through his thoughts, he traipsed along with lackadaisical interest until he came across an eye-catching exhibit that recounted the history of air travel, beginning with the Wright Brothers at Kitty Hawk right up to the latest endeavors of commercial flights into outer space, whereby ordinary people could fly to new heights. 

The exhibit sent his interest soaring and, with nothing better to do, he proceeded to browse through it bit by bit in order to gain fresh knowledge of his current, albeit temporarily delayed, mode of transportation.  It proved to be an illuminating course on the ups and downs of flight. 

Viewed upon the template of history, the speed of travel in today’s world was simply amazing.  What was commonplace in transportation when a new breed of settler set foot on the shores of this land was worlds apart from what was now common in this age of scientific and technological advancement.  A certain awe coupled with a sense of profound humility accompanied him as he studied the depictions and diagrams, reflecting on all he saw.

Ever since he was kid, Jim possessed a romantic idea of what life was like back in those bygone days of yesteryear.  Time back then had a different meaning, when the sun and seasons were the primary clocks by which people organized their days and pursued their activities, and travel was much more painstaking than it was today.

It was a jaw-dropping consideration to think how far mankind had advanced in such a short period of time. 

Despite his romanticism with the past, Jim most heartily appreciated the accouterments and contrivances of the modern era.  Running water, electricity, central heating, air conditioning, and the various modes of transportation and communication were all part of the modern scheme that made life more comfortable than ever before. 

Despite the multitude of advances, however, he had a gnawing feeling in the pit of his gut whether or not man could keep up and adjust to the changes he had wrought in the world.  This was not only in terms of the physical planet, vis a vis, its environment and resources, but also in terms of man himself, vis a vis, his internal dynamics and mental acuity.  He wondered if mankind's inventions would save him from ultimate peril or only drive him into the dirt?  Perhaps a view from space could adjust some of the modern perceptions, if only enough people could see the planet from an astronaut’s point-of-view.  Maybe it would give them a deeper respect for what was here and a better understanding on how to take care of it. 

By the time he reached the end of the exhibit, he bore a new appreciation for his aisle seat in economy and realized the utter nonsense of getting too uptight over a little airport delay.  An hour or two was like the tick of a watch.  A half day merely a few drops in the bucket.  Making camp in the corner of an airport seating area was a small price to pay for being temporarily stranded this far from home. 

After finishing his inspection of the flight exhibit, he continued his tour of the far-reaching terminal in a relaxed manner, stopping at other exhibits along the way as well as a intimate perusal of the various shops and commercial stands that marked the way.  He finally returned to his departure gate nearly two hours later  toting a handful of shopping bags filled with merchandise garnered from an assortment of local merchants, feeling a little bedraggled as he stopped at the edge of the concourse to search the seating area for a suitable spot to sit.  It was nice to see that the place had quieted considerably from the madhouse it was before.  The children were reasonably settled and silent while the grown-ups were busy reading, writing or talking to one another in hushed tones. 

Quite to his surprise, his eyes came across the olive-eyed woman he had met earlier at the food court.  Was that karma or mere coincidence?  As if on cue, she looked up precisely the same moment he scanned her area and their eyes met in perfect unison.  She gave him a sweet smile and he returned it with a cordial `Hi’ on his lips.  She indicated with a sweep of her hand that the seat next to her was available and welcomed him to join her if he so desired. 

I didn't mean for us to meet like this a second time around, Jim said affably when he had reached her.  After all, you have your business to tend to and I'm merely on vacation.

We all need a place to sit, Sharon rejoined, making no effort to mask her delight. Besides, I enjoy your company.  Your ability to carry on a conversation without becoming overly political or prejudicial is a feature I find attractive.

That was my mom’s doing, Jim explained with a humble flush of his face. She instilled the virtue of friendliness.

Kudos to her, Sharon complimented.  Please sit.

Jim shoved his travel bag under the seat next to her and sat down.  Once comfortable, he lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise and noted, I didn’t realize we shared the same seating area.

"Technically, you are in my seating area, if you will take note of the respective gate signs.

That’s a fine line to be drawing, Jim responded with a snicker, but I guess you’re right.  Thanks for the invite.

I’m happy you accepted, Sharon shrugged.  I needed a good reason to take a break from my work load.  Happily, I’ve managed to reschedule most of my appointments and, thankfully, all my clients were cooperative.  How was your little jaunt?

After a short sightseeing tour and a small buying spree, Jim replied, lifting his shopping bags off the floor and showing her some of what he had bought, I now have all the news fit to read, plenty of food and drink, a small gift for my father, and a newfound respect for air travel, with all its attachments and accommodations.

You saw the flight exhibit, then? Sharon asked with a bloom of recognition. 

That I did, Jim replied with an air of import.

I saw it when I first arrived, Sharon informed nonchalantly, twisting her hair with her finger, but I didn't spend much time on it.  I was in a rush.

I took it all in, start to finish, Jim said with peculiar relish.  It made me appreciate all the more the many conveniences modern society has to offer.

Considering the alternatives, there's no reason to complain about a little flight delay, then, is there? Sharon proposed with aplomb.  Life goes on.

That's an attitude every traveler should take, Jim acknowledged.

I have to confess that the opportunity to meet someone like you on a trip like this makes the layover so much easier to take, Sharon offered coyly, batting her long eyelashes.  I've always enjoyed the company of interesting people.  If the truth be told, one of my best accounts arose from a situation similar to this this when I first began in business.  It provided the lift I needed at a time when I was debating if I had what it took to make it as a sales rep.  After all the techniques they taught in training, my first big sale came from a random run-in with someone bored enough to lend me an ear.

You have a nice way of conducting yourself, Jim complimented, admiring her verve.  You make what you have to say appealing.  People want to listen.

Company first, Sharon injected.  Sales second.  That is my long-standing credo.

That’s good advice, Jim concurred with a soft nod.

It is our firm's philosophy in a nutshell, Sharon said amicably. 

I like a company with principle, Jim replied supportively. 

It’s what our reputation is based on, Sharon emphasized with light-hearted seriousness. 

The conversation meandered in this fashion for quite some time, one talking while the other listened, each respecting what the other had to say, responding when appropriate.  It was a matter of feeling each other out, cluing into one another's underlying attitudes, and enhancing what had begun as a casual run-in into something more meaningful.  They eventually edged into topics of a more personal nature, discussing their families and upbringing.  Neither hid their sentimentality. 

Jim was an only child whose early years were not unusual for a kid whose parents got married not too long after they learned his mother was pregnant.  The first few years of the marriage went all right, and it seemed they never had a problem between them that couldn't be resolved. 

When he was in the fifth grade, however, his parents had a fight to end all fights and his father shortly thereafter moved out of the house.  Following a trial separation and a spate of failed counseling, a divorce ensued, and the terms of their settlement placed Jim in the custody of his mother, where he grew up enjoying the full benefits and implicit costs of being an only child.  He led a pretty normal life save for not seeing his father very often, but his mother did a pretty good job of filling in the details and providing a reasonably happy home. 

In terms of schooling, he was an above-average student who kept a low-profile and blended in well with the rest of the student body.  He graduated from high school with honors and began college with high expectations.  Now, having just completed his junior year at a state college, he was on his way to visit his father, whom he not seen since high school, and was not shy in expressing his ambivalence toward the entire ordeal. 

I just hope everything goes okay, he said gingerly, the the look on his face indicating his lingering doubts.

Are you looking forward to seeing him again?  Sharon plied gently.

Considering our past interactions, Jim responded in a measured tone, I am a little nervous about it.  He hasn’t had much to do with me over the past few years and frankly I'm not sure he wants anything more between us than what little we already have.

Only time will tell, Sharon said with sympathy.  I hope it works out for the both of you.

Thanks for the encouragement, Jim replied with resignation.  He was somber for a moment as he pondered the possibility of a fresh relationship with his up-to-now neglectful father before brightening up and returning his attention back to Sharon.  How about you? he asked.  What’s your story?"

Mine is not quite so turbulent, Sharon replied with a hint of diplomacy, but in many respects it has made me the person I am today.

I’d like to hear it, Jim countenanced, giving her his full attention. 

In broad brush strokes, Sharon painted a picture of her life from her early years to the present.  She came from a fairly stable family, one girl among four boys, plus mom and dad.  Two brothers were now married with children, presenting her with three nephews and a baby niece.  Another was still unmarried, working overseas, and the youngest was living at home, just out of high school. 

Her parents were average folk who taught their children the importance of getting along and urged the resolution of minor issues before they expanded into major problems.  In terms of marriage, they emphasized their philosophy by example, defining the union of a man and a woman as a walk together and not just a series of haphazard run-ins.  Parents and children needed to work together to make the family a cohesive unit.  Sharon’s family as a result was a fairly tight-knit clan and made every effort to keep it that way even now despite all but one of the children had moved out of the house. 

Sharon cherished the thought of returning to the family house now and again.  She liked to sleep in her old bedroom, help her mother prepare a meal or do an odd chore, and visit old friends and neighbors.  It made the step into adulthood that less traumatic and provided a stable continuum into her future. 

It's nice to watch parents age together, she said with a touch of glee.  Glimpsing the look in Jim’s eyes, she wished she would have been more refined in her comment.  Sorry.  That was kind of cold, she muttered, touching his forearm and offering an apology.  I didn't mean to sound so discourteous in light of what you just told me about your family background.

There's no need to apologize, Jim answered, brushing off her concern.  I've learned to cope with the pain of the truth over the intervening years.  Divorce was my parent’s idea and it is a choice they have had to live with for better or worse ever since they did the deed.  The topic was old fodder for him.  He had long ago accepted the fact that he had to live life on his own terms and let his parents live according to theirs.  A certain part of me wishes they were still married, he said solemnly, "but the fact remains that I have to live according to the dictates of reality.  Their marriage and subsequent divorce has allowed me to take the hard-earned lessons of their past and apply them to my life as it is and the future that unfolds.  Done astutely, it can only make my own little world a better place to live."

That is a mature approach to take, Sharon said supportively.

If the truth be known, my mother would probably scold me if she heard me talking like this, Jim sniggered.  She detests viewing life in such humdrum terms.  She is not remiss in reminding me where my first nine months were spent before I was introduced to the world.

It's nice to hear the bond between mother and child put in such elegant terms, Sharon replied with a chuckle.  Your first breath must’ve been quite the draw.

It was one my finest moments, Jim intoned with a sense of grandeur.  Whenever I close my eyes and think about that first glimmer of light that welcomed me into this world, I get the same sappy feeling all over again. 

Your mother must be proud to have a son like you, Sharon retorted   

She is, Jim responded with a grin.  He was on a roll now, reciting the manual on birth and childhood even as he was composing it.  "She has a way of letting me know that she knows exactly how the process works.  She’s got the look, she's got the know-how, she's got the experience, and that's something no kid can balk at."

Well stated, Sharon articulated, pleased with the analysis.  I admire a man who understands the basics of womanhood.  I owe you a drink for such an inspired compliment.  It's sharp insight into why children should respect their mothers.

My mother is the main reason why I am able to do what I do, Jim stated smartly.

You are so sweet, Sharon cooed. I'll have to tell my mom what you said.  You'd have her eating out of your hand with talk like that.

Mothers have my utmost respect, Jim voiced with an air of gentility.

Sharing a variety of interests and beliefs, this remarkable couple continued to pass the slow-moving afternoon with delicate observations about life and experience.  Considering the mass of people surrounding them, it was quite the coincidence to have met in the first place. 

Sharon could have been just as easily stuck ruminating on the complexities of life and the complications it involved with someone completely different.  Instead she made the acquaintance of this delightful young man who was so willing to offer his hand in friendship and help her pass this awkward time in fairly sophisticated fashion.  She loved every minute they spent together.

Jim feelings were mutual.  In the presence of less lively company, the passage of time would have been like watching a bug crawl across the floor.  His muscles would have turned numb and his mind put into a deep-freeze.  He would be responding like an automaton, seeking to fill the void with a laugh, a look or a gesture.  His mind would have from time to time ventured off into random orbits of thought, drawn away by some other idea or spectacle, losing momentary interest in the person he was with and the subject being discussed.  His attention would have most certainly veered to the magnificent storm that was blowing beyond the window, wondering when it would end and how many more minutes, hours or days he would be stuck in these most uncomfortable of circumstances. 

Yet it hadn’t been like that.  At just the right moment, he got up when he did, walked where he walked, and met whom he had met.  He was honestly enjoying these precious moments with his new found friend like a gift sent from beyond the clouds.  In her company, the storm and the hubbub that encompassed them were not nearly as difficult to bear.  Instead of two ships passing in the night, they were now docked side-by-side, wiling away the hours in one another’s company, sharing their stories of pain, triumph, and joy. 

You've been perfect company on a not so perfect day, Sharon mouthed with a sense of gratitude, looking beyond the windows to the weather outside.  It was plain to see that misery had taken hold of the city and there seemed to be no let-up in its stranglehold. 

The feeling is mutual on my part, Jim replied with a touch of graciousness.  You have made the time pass so much more enjoyably than it otherwise would have. 

May I offer to buy you a refreshment? Sharon asked. I owe you at least a drink.

Permit me to share a table for dinner? Jim inquired with all the polish of a seasoned gentleman. 

That sounds like a date, Sharon responded gleefully.  Give me time to freshen up and I'll meet you at the food court in half-an-hour.

A half-hour it is.

Sharon threw her bag over her shoulder and smiled.  Ta, ta, she said with a flick of her fingers.

See you in a bit, Jim responded, watching her walk away like a trophy he wanted to win.

4

Now that Sharon had made the move to freshen up, Jim figured he ought to do the same. 

First, he needed to make a phone call. 

He retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and dialed his mother’s home number.  He walked along slowly while the phone sought to make a connection, but came up empty.  Call cannot be completed was the message.  Apparently the lines were down somewhere along the way.  Perhaps the towers had been knocked out out-of-service or a piece of key equipment had frozen up. 

The next option had him trooping to the phone bank opposite the luggage lockers, where he used his debit card to make the call, punching in his mother’s home phone number, then that of his card while a digital operator ran him through the necessary steps.  He huddled inside the cubicle and pressed the receiver to his ear as the line began to ring.

The clamor of the crowd maintained a steady hum within the confines of the concourse.  Most of those stranded by the storm accepted their plight with somber resignation.  A minority few, seeking to alleviate their plight, stood at counters talking to airline personal, hoping that something could be done to get them out or at least move them up on the flight list so they could depart at the first break in the weather.  Others yakked into telephones, explaining their situation to someone on the other end of the line, trying to garner help of some sort, most often in the form of a sympathetic ear that could only wish them well and encourage them to sit tight until the worst was over. 

Every so often, a tormented traveler, usually a kid, would emit cry of frustration that echoed from one end of the concourse to the other.  Folks up and down the way, after collecting their composure, usually extended their condolences and wished quick relief to the grief-stricken wayfarer.  Pity was with the parents as they tried to comfort their restless offspring.  It was apparent the stress of the layover was playing havoc on everyone's nerves. 

With a finger pressed to his ear, Jim strove to reduce the noise and keep the interference at bay.  On the fourth ring, the telephone on the other end of the line was answered with a cheerful Hello.

Mom, it's me, Jim, he uttered buoyantly.  I'm calling from the airport.

Jim?  Oh my God!  How are you doing? his mother squealed.  Is everything okay? 

I’m smack dab in the middle of the biggest storm this section of the country has seen in years, Jim reported, glancing to the windows to watch the weather outside. It's as if the sky is falling.  All the jets are stranded and the airport is packed one end to the other with laid over travelers.

I heard it on the news, his mother stated fretfully.  From what the weather people are saying, you may be grounded for quite a while.  Are you holding up all right?

Yeah, I'm doing okay, Jim replied sturdily.  I have a good book to read and there's plenty of food available.  Moreover, I've made a friend.  A girl.  Someone to keep me company until the storm blows over.

Wonderful! his mother bellowed.  You've always been so good at meeting people.  It's one of your best qualities.  I hope you have a fun time together.

So far, so good, Jim said, satisfied how things had thus far fared.  In fact, I'm meeting her for lunch in just a few minutes. 

Make it one for the record books, his mother voiced with pizzazz, then asked in a trail of secondary thought, Are you doing okay on money?

I’ve got enough, Mom, Jim answered pluckily.  "Thanks for your concern.  We've been told by the Big Speaker in the Sky to sit tight and be patient.  The airlines will fly us out just