The Voice

By Stacy Svendor

 

 

Janet dragged her bag through the crowded airport, wondering, once again, just what the hell she was doing.  You are about to get on a plane, a voice inside her said lightly, to meet a complete stranger.

 

 “She could be the love of my life,” she told herself.  

 

Or the worst mistake of your life, came the wry reply.

 

 “I must be insane,” she muttered as she handed her ticket to the attendant at the baggage check in counter.

 

“Miss?” asked the attendant.

 

“Oh, sorry,” replied Janet, blushing slightly. “Just talking to myself.”

 

After assuring the attendant that she had indeed packed her own bags and kept them with her at all times, eschewing all attempts by others to get her to carry packages, she began her trek to the gate, armed with only her boarding pass and carry-on bag.

 

Looking down at the boarding pass in her hand, she noted that her gate could not possibly be any farther away.  *Well, I have time,* she remembered.  *I can stop and get something to drink, and perhaps a bite.  It will just not do to have my stomach growl when I meet her.*

 

With that thought, Janet froze. Heart pounding the voice inside her screamed, What are you DOING??? 

 

“Calm yourself,” Janet whispered.  “You have been talking to this woman for months.  What is the problem?”

 

The problem is…  You don’t really know her.  How could you?  You have not met.  She could be an axe murderer.

 

“Oh come on,” Janet remarked to herself.  “There are remarkably few female axe murderers out there.”

 

Lizzie Borden.

 

“That was never proven, and you know it!” 

 

People around her turned to look at Janet worriedly at the outburst.  The expressions became confused as bystanders noted that there was no one with the woman.

 

Turning red, Janet hurried on toward her gate.

 

Something caught her attention, causing her to stop in her tracks.  “A flower vending machine!” she exclaimed.  “What a great idea.  It even takes credit cards.” 

 

Fumbling with her wallet, she slid her credit card and selected a small bouquet of roses with some fern and baby’s breath. “I just know she will love these,” she said with a small smile.

 

Such a romantic.

“Shut up, you got me in trouble earlier,” Janet chastised the voice.

Hey, it wasn’t my fault that you felt the need to yell.

 

Scowling, Janet reshouldered her carry-on, took her roses and began to again move toward the gate.  She made one more stop to grab a snack, and then sat in the waiting area by her gate to eat it.

 

Suddenly the loudspeaker announced, “Flight 1845 to Boston is now boarding.”

 

Settling into her seat on the plane, Janet’s voice started in on her again.  What if she is grotesquely fat and ugly?

 

“I have her picture,” Janet mumbled exasperatedly.

 

Pictures can be faked.

 

”She did not fake her picture.  She is cute, and she is not fat!” 

 

The flight attendant looked at her with confusion, then continued down the aisle.

 

It could be an old picture.

 

“Cut it out,” Janet whispered, “you are going to get me locked up.”

 

You should be, came the reply, not only do you talk to yourself, you are flying halfway across country to meet someone you know nothing about.

 

“But I do know something about her.  I know a lot about her,” Janet replied.  “She’s cute and funny.  She is sweet and sexy.  She is the most amazing woman that I have ever known, and I am in love with her.”

 

Janet looked up in surprise.  *I’m in love with her,* she thought with amazement.  *I really am.*

 

Now what?

 

“Now, see her.  And tell her,” Janet replied.

 

“Tell me what?” asked the flight attendant, who was at that point pushing the beverage cart past the row where Janet was seated.

 

“Uh… V8 juice, please,” Janet replied, blushing again.

 

The rest of the flight was uneventful.  Even the voice had quieted for the moment.

 

As the flight attendants prepared for landing, Janet’s heart began to pound again.

 

*Just a few more minutes.  Then I will know.  Then we will meet.*

 

And a few hours after that, they will be looking for your body parts.

 

“They will not!”  Again, the people around her turned to look at her.

 

The plane taxied for a few minutes and then pulled up to the gate.  Janet hesitated a bit before grabbing the roses and her carry-on and prepared to exit the plane.  Her stomach erupted into frantic butterflies.

 

She’s probably not even here.

 

“She’s here,” Janet muttered under her breath. 

 

Slowly she made her way down the aisle, out of the plane, and through the jetway.   She stepped into the Boston airport and looked around.  She watched with growing apprehension as joyful reunions took place around her. 

 

Told you.

 

“She’s probably had traffic,” Janet looked around the quickly emptying gate.

 

She’s not coming.  She was probably arrested on the way here.  She probably had a body in the car. 

 

“She was not arrested and there was no body.  She is coming,” Janet replied, but she was beginning to worry.  *She should be here.  What should I do?  Should I wait here?  Or go get my bag?*

 

Get the bag.  Go exchange that other ticket and get on the next plane home.

 

“Fine, you were right.  I shouldn’t have come here.  Does that make you happy?”  She began walking toward baggage claim.

 

Before she could get too far along with that train of thought, there was a commotion farther down the concourse.  A woman had run into someone and bags had gone flying. 

 

“Sorry,” she heard the woman call out, as she grabbed the bags and thrust them into the hands of the startled man she had run into.  The woman started running again, and then skidded to a stop in front of the empty gate.

 

Keep going, it’s not her.

 

“NO!”

 

At the shout, the woman turned to look at her.

 

Their eyes met across the room.  Time seemed to slow around them, as the two woman walked toward each other.

 

She’s the one.

 

“Yes, she is.”

 

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