Taglit the Birthright by Kenneth Ngwa

Taglit the Birthright

by Kenneth Ngwa

Never having left home, Matias was excited to be seeing the world. From the moment he had landed, his levelheadedness had been affected. The thriving metropolitan center of Buenos Aires was a far cry from the golden land of Israel. The warmth of complete strangers was a staunch contrast to what he knew from back home. Traveling through the country in his Taglit group he felt constrained. He desperately wanted to explore but was routinely wrangled back to the group. Annoyed with being babied, he vented out at any opportunity. Purposely he would drag his feet at sites or try to delay others around him. A people person at heart, Matias found himself clashing with individuals he normally might have liked. This infuriated him, fueling his alienation further.

His group leader was a 23-year-old Israeli soldier from Australia named Alon. Alon was a dictator head strong in every sense of the word. Backtalk would not be tolerated; disobedience would not be accepted. When he commanded, it was the Taglit group’s job to obey. Reading road call as he secured them on a bus his eyes barely left the paper. His personality was inescapably non-apparent. His only kind words were to several of the fairer girls on the bus. Not to say that he wasn’t a miser but he was in a stressful position. He had the difficult job of handling a group of nineteen people as they toured up and down the country. His job was made much harder by the fact he was the same age as most of the people he found himself guiding. He was in a role which if not handled correctly could lead to a volatile situation.

When Matias and Alon first met there was no tension. The meeting was rather uneventful. Problems soon arose however when Matias began to take longer then the others to stir up in the morning. When confronted by Alon, Matias reacted swiftly and without thought: letting loose a blur of insults which immediately filled the room. Just when it looked like they were going to fight, a passing cleaner interrupted. Her appearance on the scene had defused the situation. Avoiding eye contact they then went their separate ways. The seeds of a brawl had been planted, overly active authority versus unbridled independence. Later that day amongst the people on the bus, talk of an impending showdown between the two began to spread.

Speeding along the rustic tarmac the bus rocked gently; working its way to Eilat. With the beauty of the desert also came the heat. Inside their coach bus the temperature was boiling. The air conditioner on the bus had stopped working halfway through their journey. Riding through the Negev the early effects of heat exhaustion began to be felt by many on the bus.

With Eilat still far on the horizon everyone was left to suffer through it. Complaints for rest stops were frequent. The noise of chatter was deafening. While most of the people on the bus talked with one another, Matias stared out the window. He watched the heat dance off the parched desert earth. He thought of how the mountains appeared misleadingly close. Good, he thought.

Across flat red stone they towered: giant heaps of earth flying high into the heavens.

Matias longed to escape the bus. Perhaps he could run out far enough to get a true glimpse of the mountains. The more he saw them the more he wanted a better view. Rising from his seat in a fit of sheer excitement he neared Alon's seat.

Leaning in he found Alon half awake, eyes buried in his palm. In a tone screaming of amnesia, he asked Alon whether the bus could be stopped. His question was bold; you could see he was serious. People lifted their heads to see if Alon would grant such a request, especially since they had argued earlier. Silence fell upon everyone but Alon and Matias. Rising to his feet Alon turned to face Matias. Standing so close together on the moving bus at that point suggested anything could have happened. With a puzzled look Alon stared at him, almost unsure of how to tell him no. The bus only stopped at official rest locations along the way.

Most stops had gift shops and small food stands. Matias wanted a different experience. He wanted to walk into the desert like the Hebrews of long ago. The touristy sites outside Massada repelled him. The meaningless gift shops along the Negev were not meant for his kind. He was an adventurer. When his audacious request was denied rather then fume, he turned with his head high and returned to his seat. With no fuss and no grand display all seemed right once more.

No one spoke to him but all had witnessed his peculiar question. As soon as Matias was back in his seat the bus without hesitation was in an uproar once again. In Eilat, one of their tour stops was the Eilat underwater aquarium. The aquarium was renowned as a marvel for studying aquatic life. Creatures uncommon to this region were put on display for all to see. When the bus emptied everyone headed through the aquarium’s clear glass revolving doors.

Inside, the building was an oasis from the heat. The dark blue rooms were nearly all damp. The central air chilled all it touched. The first available chance he got, Matias left the group in favor of walking the aquarium alone. The cooled rooms seemed like heaven compared to the bus he had just left. The rooms were painted with the colors of Arctic ice which added to the effect. Walking the halls he stopped to stare at a wading sea turtle. Through the light blue glass the creature shined marvelously. It hovered alone hardly moving. Barnacles covered the top lair of its tatty shell. Matias had stood there for a while when he realized he wasn’t alone. He could feel someone else was near by. Turning he saw a red-haired Israeli girl standing next to him. Although they stood side by side neither of them spoke to one another. Good, he thought joyfully.

When it finally became uncomfortable he glanced in her direction. Instead of talking to her, he was just about to leave when the turtle in the tank snapped at the glass. The slow turtle’s burst of speed had come as such a shock the redhead let out a miniature shriek before giggling. Turning towards her slightly, Matias asked if she was okay. Nodding she pointed at the turtle. Soon they were engaged in a full fledge conversation. Matias learned her name was Anna, and she was a soldier in the IDF who happened to live in Eilat. When she was home from the army she often visited the aquarium. She loved animals and found the view into their world breathtaking. Her freckled cheeks served as heralds to her hazel eyes. Her long hair was clutched together by a green scrunchy.

Matias may not have shown it but his stomach churned. His heart danced about his chest. He could feel his blood racing. With every glance into her eyes the feeling grew worse.

His palms were sweaty and he stood nearly motionless as he spoke. They talked of many things but nothing sparked their combined interest like the desert. Anna had gone to the desert many times at night and Matias wanted to experience it. Time was passing and neither of them had made a move. Matias stood by unsure of what to say. Taking the lead Anna asked Matias if he wanted to see the desert at night with her and her friends. Excitement beyond his subtle smile began to peak through. While looking at Anna he casually replied, “sure.” He should have thought before he answered. It hadn’t occurred to him until that second that he was still on a Birthright trip. He had forgotten about the group entirely. There was no way for him to leave the group. The rules of the trip were nearly inscribed in stone. Taking Anna’s number he mentioned covertly that he was on a Taglit trip. What he didn’t explain was that he couldn’t leave the group. Instead, he assured her he would call her later that evening.

As they said their goodbyes, Alon yelled from down the hall to Matias telling him it was time to go. Over her shoulder he stared coldly towards Alon. When she questioned him about his grimace Matias quickly returned to his old self.

That night the Birthright group checked into the Binyamin Hotel in downtown Eilat. Forever the loner, Alon had spent the remainder of the day trying to devise a plan of escape. If he were caught, he would be kicked off of Birthright and possibly be deported back to Argentina. What ever his decision he vowed to avoid the disgrace. Headstrong and adventurous he mulled over taking the risk.

Around 10 PM he called Anna. As if waiting by the phone she picked up on the first ring. Something was wrong, as she spoke she sounded distant. She told him she had bad news. Immediately fearing the worst Matias braced himself. Anna informed him that her friends could no longer go with them. If he still wanted to see the desert they would have to go alone. As soon as she uttered those words his mind was made. Come hell or high water he was escaping that hotel. Giving her his address he told her to come to the hotel. After he hung up the phone, he went to work plotting his exit. Nothing else mattered at that point. He studied the outline of the hotel like an engineer. He couldn’t leave through the lobby, because other Birthright people were there. To compound matters even further his room for the night was only four doors down from Alon’s. Growing desperate, he became reckless. At one point he thought about scaling the side of the building. As he was about to climb out onto the ledge he made one cardinal mistake. He looked down. Fear over took him and he froze. Shutting the window he went back inside. Running out of options he walked down the stairs to the hotel lobby.

When he got to the bottom floor he mulled over a mad dash through the lobby outside to the entrance. Surely he would be gone before anyone would notice. Just then he spotted a corner door. Unsure of where it led he decided to investigate. Sliding the heavy iron door open he looked from side to side. There was no one in sight.

He had a clear path to an emergency exit side door. The red glowing light above the door was no deterrent. Regardless of the alarm sounding he was going through that exit. Taking one last breath he made his move. He rushed to the door and closed his eyes as he grabbed the handle. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cold air of the night. Scurrying down the walkway he was free. An exhilarating sense of accomplishment overtook him. His night seemed destined for perfection. He was mere moments away from raising his hands in victory when Alon, smoking a cigarette, walked up to him. With no other option, all out of ideas, with Anna surely moments away, Matias did the unthinkable, he told the truth. Despite their earlier clashes he was counting on one thing alone - the fact that Alon was a guy. It was his only chance at escape. In a sincere tone he explained to Alon who he was going with and insisted he would be back within a few hours. His eyes widened with every word. His voice was gentle and persuasive.

Alon stood listening with very little signs of sympathy. His arms were crossed and nothing could be guessed from his facial expression. When he did speak, as expected he vehemently denied Matias’s request to leave. Rather then argue they stood on the sidewalk trying to come to an understanding. It was clear Matias was not going to back down. Alon finally let up when it became clear that no matter what he said Matias was going to leave. Viewing the situation as no-win, he let Matias go on one condition. One odd request which he demanded fulfilled. Since Matias was leaving the area he would have to bring back an order of a hamburger and fries for Alon. If he did that then Alon would keep his secret and pretend nothing happened. Overjoyed Matias agreed. At that point he would have agreed to mostly anything if Alon had asked. Sparing no time he darted across the parking lot to the front of the hotel in search of Anna. Just as he arrived a green jeep pulled up. Sitting in the car Anna looked more beautiful then she had that afternoon.

Her hair was free flowing in the wind. She wore a pink dress with light brown boots. Covered in the darkness of the night she glistened in brilliance. Her hair was dressed in the scent of auburn leaves. Her cinnamon freckles sat caressing her sweet smile. Alon stood catching his breath trying hard not to appear too apprehensive. Getting into the passenger seat he froze somewhere between a handshake and a hug. Despite that maneuver everything else was moving along wonderfully. They sped down the road leaving a trail of dust in their wake. The engine on her jeep hummed as they accelerated. Even though it was dark Anna knew every one of the roads. She sped past yellow traffic lights without hesitation. The air swooshed by through the thin frame of her jeep. Staring over at her Matias hardly noticed the world passing all around him.

Soon the city of Eilat was but a twinkle in the distance far behind them. It had been replaced with the cold emptiness of the desert. The air became animated in a fanciful display. Stars shined from every corner of the sky. The jeep’s engine now sang in a low baritone rumble. All the while Matias sat amidst the excitement he had so craved days earlier. With the dark as his shield he smiled a jubilant smile. Suddenly the car veered off the road. Clearing a ditch Anna took the car through a field of small cactus shrubs. The crackling from beneath rang out against the silence of the desert. When the car was stopped the absence of noise was frightening. For miles around nothing but blue darkness could be seen. There were no other cars. No other people. They were alone in the emptiness. The subtle caress of the wind brushed against them. Milky stars shown on the endless night.

Grabbing Matias’s arm, Anna pointed his hand in the direction of Jordan. Caressing his finger her warm touch left his heart pounding. He couldn’t see much but was fascinated none the less. They sat immersed in the tranquility surrounding them. Searching for something, anything to say to her his mind drew a blank. Just when he turned to face her Anna placed her head on his shoulder. Her gentle breathing shook is brawny shoulders. Nervously, Matias leaned in to kiss her.

It was so dark that he couldn’t see well and ended up kissing her nose. Realizing his mistake, Anna started to laugh. Recoiling he was embarrassed. Before he could beat himself up too badly, Anna kissed him. When they began, there was no end in site. They were entrapped in excitement; victims of the beauty and isolation of their surroundings. They laid in the shade of night. The song of desert locusts filled the air.

Only when the charging glimmer of the sun was apparent did they stir. Waking Matias up, Anna started the car. The early morning of the desert was glorious but also very cold. Shivering they headed back towards Eilat. Cruising into the city they passed McDonald’s. Still halfway asleep Matias remembered his agreement to Alon and barely spoke. Out of no where he called “reverse, reverse.” With a jerk the car stopped. After a bit of insisting Anna granted his request and headed back. Shortly after, they found themselves pulling back into the hotel parking lot with burger and fries. The Taglit bus was running. The driver was sitting near by sipping a cup of coffee. Both Matias and Anna knew in those final fleeting moments that this was to be the end of their time together. That one night together was most assuredly all they would have.

Unsure of what to say, or if anything needed to be said, Matias gave her a hug. An embrace which conveyed all the things he longed to say. Getting out of the car with one final nod, he entered the hotel. The lobby felt lonely. Looking around he saw Alon alone in a chair fast asleep.

Rather then wake him Matias placed the bag of food gently at his feet. Smiling he walked into the elevator then pressed the button for the sixth floor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kenneth Ngwa was born to a United Nations Attaché and a social worker on July 30, 1983 in Bangui, Central African Republic. Spending his earlier years in Cameroun West Africa his family relocated to the United States when he was seven. Completing his bachelors in Radio at Columbia College he turned to writing. He spent several years cultivating his craft while traveling the slums of the world. From the seedy corridors of Buenos Aires to the dust covered bricks of the West Bank. Currently he is an active participant in the literary community, contributing several articles to Chicago based papers, from the Onion to the Zevers Review. Kenneth currently resides with his family in the suburbs of Chicago.

View blog authority

Christmas In Paris by C. Joseph Smith

Christmas In Paris
by C. Joseph Smith

It began Thanksgiving night, while they were cleaning up the dishes. It was 11 PM, a late hour for Judy.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“Sure,” said Ted. “As good as usual.”

“It could have been better?”

“Let’s face it,” said Ted. “Thanksgiving is a chore. We spend all day preparing for the feast. The guests arrive at three o’clock and after words of welcome we are back in the kitchen. We float in and out while they enjoy themselves in the living room. Then we announce dinner and have to hustle to get it all on the table still hot. We eat, bring more food, eat some more and then, if we’re lucky, they sit for an hour or so after the pie. Then, they’re gone and we’re left with the dishes. I feel like a servant.”

Judy nodded. “And, every year we say next year will be different. We’ll eat at a restaurant or go to someone else’s house, but we never do.”

“It wouldn’t be as good at a restaurant,” argued Ted. “We’d avoid the work, but the guests wouldn’t feel like they had been to Thanksgiving. It would just be another dinner out.”

“Maybe it’s the tradition that’s important,” said Judy. “We’ve hosted dinner for the same group of people for thirteen years.”

“Yes, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s boring. Uncle Fred always shows up late. Tommy arrives early. The chitchat is about the last election and the weather and what we’re doing for Christmas.”

“What are we doing for Christmas?” asked Judy.

“Presumably what we always do. Christmas Eve at your folks and Christmas Day at my brother’s.”

Judy sighed as she fished the last spoon from the greasy dishwater. Ted lifted two of the cut crystal glasses from the row on the counter and poured the last of the merlot into them.

“Tell you what,” he said brightly, offering one of the glasses. “Let’s do something different this year.”

“Like what?” asked Judy.

“We could stay home,” said Ted. “Just the two of us. A romantic Christmas alone.”

“That would last about three minutes,” said Judy. “The phone would ring off the hook. ‘Where are you?’ ‘Why aren’t you coming?’” She sipped the wine.

“Then let’s go somewhere,” said Ted.

“Like where?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere. We could drive to Omaha.”

“Great,” said Judy. “I can just see us at the Holiday Inn in Omaha. And the phone would still ring off the hook.”

“I guess we’re stuck,” admitted Ted.

“No,” said Judy, brightening. “We just have to go far enough away that we’re beyond reach. And it has to be someplace special. A destination. A place people go for a once-in-a-lifetime holiday. A place not even your mother could object to.”

“You mean, like Hawaii?”

“Maybe,” said Judy. “But, I was thinking Paris? How about Christmas in Paris?”

“Paris?” cried Ted. “We’ve never even been to London.”

“Exactly my point,” said Judy. “We’ve never been anywhere. We host Thanksgiving, spend Christmas with the relatives, and never do anything romantic. Just once, wouldn’t you like to have a real adventure?”

“Christmas in Paris,” said Ted, rolling the idea around. “We’d have to leave a few days before, because of the time zones.”

“We’ll arrive early on Christmas Eve,” said Judy. “Stay at the Place de la Something-Or-Other Hotel.”

“Supper in a small café,” said Ted.

“Yes, and midnight mass at Notre Dame. Ted, let’s do it! It will be wonderful!”

“What about your parents?” asked Ted.

“They can plan their own trip,” declared Judy. She raised her glass. “To Paris!”

“To Paris!” agreed Ted, and they sealed the bargain with wine.

On the day before Christmas Eve, around noon, they stood in line at JFK Airport, Gate 36A, to check in for the Paris flight. When they reached the desk, Judy noticed a change in the electronic sign on the wall.

“What does that mean?” she asked the clerk, pointing to the sign. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Delayed. Let me call to find out.” He reached under the counter for a phone.

“Just our luck,” said Ted quietly. “We fly all the way from Omaha only to be stranded at JFK.”

“It says delayed, not canceled,” said Judy. “I can see the plane through the window. Stop worrying.”

“The airplane needs a part replaced,” said the clerk. “It will only hold you up about an hour.”

Ted and Judy found an empty bench near the window and settled down to wait.

“What’s the delay?” asked a young woman nearby.

“They have to replace a part,” said Judy. “It will take an hour.”

“I hope they don’t cancel the flight,” said the woman.

“Is this your first trip to Paris?” asked Judy.

“Yes, and I don’t even have a seat on the plane. I’m number one on the standby list.”

“It’s a last minute trip?”

The woman nodded. “I’m meeting my husband. He’s in the Navy and his ship is somewhere along the coast of France. He got leave to meet me for Christmas . . . if I can get there.”

“How long has he been away?” asked Judy.

“Eight months. He’s on a submarine.”

“I hope you make it,” said Ted.

At 2 PM the announcement came.

“Ladies and gentleman in the boarding area for Air France flight 8736 to Paris, we are sorry to keep you waiting. Unfortunately, the repair crew has not been able to locate the part they need for the plane at this airport. They are calling over to La Guardia and Newark to see if any other airline has the part. This flight has been rescheduled as a special flight to leave at 7 PM this evening. That assumes the part is found in the next two hours. If the part cannot be located by 4 PM, this flight will be canceled. You may leave the boarding area, but please check back with us no later than 5 PM. Thank you.”

“Doesn’t look good,” said Ted. “If we leave at seven o’clock, we won’t get in until late tomorrow.”

“We’ll still be in time for Christmas, sweetie.”

“Unless the flight is canceled,” said Ted.

They were not used to the airport waiting game and time dragged. They walked to the gift shop and perused the paperbacks, side by side.

After a while, Judy said, “Honey, I’ve been thinking about that poor woman whose husband is waiting for her in Paris.”

“What about her?” asked Ted.

“Maybe we should do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. It just seems tragic somehow. What if this is her last chance to see him? What if something happens to him and she never sees him again. I would feel awful.”

“Why would you feel awful? In the first place, you’ll never know about it. In the second place, the man’s on a submarine and we are not at war. If he dies in the near future it’ll be from boredom.”

“Fine,” snipped Judy.

“You’re not suggesting, I hope, that we give up our tickets so she can get on the plane.”

“Of course not,” she fired back. “But, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t see Paris. In fact, I’m trying to remember what was so terrible about Christmas at home.”

They were facing each other now and their discussion was attracting some attention from other gift shop customers.

“As I recall, Honey, this trip was your idea.”

“Sure it was, but you agreed readily enough, didn’t you. Admit it. You never want to spend Christmas Eve with my folks.”

“Oh, God,” said Ted turning away. “I’ll see you at the gate.”

He was trapped now, he knew. If the plane left without the Navy wife he might as well write off the trip.

“Yes,” said the clerk, “That young woman, Mrs. Staples, is still number one on the standby list.”

“Do you think she’ll get on?” asked Ted.

“Unlikely,” he replied. “Everyone has checked in and the flight is completely filled. Except for one seat in first class.”

“There’s a seat in first class? Why don’t you give her that?”

“I offered it to her,” he said, “but she didn’t want to pay the fare upgrade.”

“How much is it?”

“Six hundred dollars.”

Ted was incredulous. “Six hundred!”

The clerk nodded.

That was a lot of money to Ted, but he thought of all the other money that would be wasted if his wife didn’t calm down.

“Suppose I pay it. Would she have to know?”

“No, but I already told her that Air France doesn’t make free upgrades.”

Ted thought about putting his wife in first class. That was probably a mistake, leaving her alone. And that would leave him sitting with the Navy wife. Nor would it be a good idea for him to sit in first class and let the two of them chat for seven hours.

“How about upgrading someone else?” proposed Ted.

“Pardon me?” asked the clerk.

“Upgrade someone else. Pick another single passenger and upgrade him to first class. Then give the coach seat to the lady.”

“You want to pay $600 to upgrade a total stranger to first class so Mrs. Staples can ride along in coach?”

“Right.”

“Who are you?” he asked. “Santa Claus?” Not expecting a reply, he started clicking away on his keyboard.

All had been accomplished by four o’clock, when Judy returned quietly to the gate.

“Sorry,” said Ted.

“It’s okay,” she replied.

“Listen, I talked to the gate agent and they found a seat for the Navy wife.”

“That’s great,” said Judy, but with no enthusiasm. Ted felt the loss of his six hundred bucks.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Air France announces the further delay of Flight 8736 to Paris, which will now depart at 9 PM I have been advised that the maintenance crew has located a part in Washington, D.C., which is being flown up at this very moment. Flight 8736 will leave at 9 PM tonight and will not be canceled.”

A few people applauded. Ted turned to Judy hopefully.

“Shall we get some dinner?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said quietly.

A full hour later, Judy perked up.

“Let’s go into New York City,” she proposed.

“Go into New York? We’ve only got four hours until the plane leaves.”

“What if we didn’t go to Paris? What if we spent Christmas in New York?”

Ted closed his eyes. Please God, he thought.

Then, with a sigh, he opened them again and twisted in his seat to face his wife.

“Judy,” he began, “Why don’t we just get a flight home. We can easily be there for Christmas Eve.”

“No, no,” said Judy. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to New York City. It will be great.” She thought of all the places she had read about. “We can see the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. Supper at Sardi’s. Midnight Mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.”

Ted felt helpless. “You don’t want to go to Paris?”

Judy turned cold. “Why can’t you ever accept what I say without grilling me about it?”

“Okay, okay,” said Ted. He turned away and said softly, mostly to himself, “Our suitcases are probably already on the plane. I’ll have to see if they will send them to our hotel . . . if I can find a hotel that will take us.”

Incredibly, an hour later they had completed a cab journey through the maze of highways and traffic and were standing at the desk of the Fountainbleu Royale Hotel, on Central Park South.

“It even sounds French,” muttered Ted to himself.

“Excuse me, Sir?” said the desk clerk.

“I called from the airport,” said Ted. “Simmons. You said you had a room available.”

“Yes, Sir. I have only one suite left. It has two queen beds and a fireplace and it faces Central Park. It is $675 per night.”

Ted winced. Even the hotel in Paris was only $375. “May we see it?” he asked.

“Of course,” said the clerk. He reached for a key card and ran it through a device on the counter and handed it to Ted. “Room 2632. Take the elevators on your left to the 26^th floor. Slide the card in the slot on the door.”

“Thank you,” said Ted. He turned to Judy, but she had wandered across the lobby to look at the fountain. Three tiers of water cascaded into a pool with various sizes of huge blue Christmas tree ornaments afloat.

“Are you ready, Honey?” he asked.

She followed him to the elevator without a word. When they entered the room, her face brightened.

“Oh, Ted! It’s fabulous.” There were three rooms, including a small living room. She walked quickly through them, exclaiming at each new wonder. “There’s a Jacuzzi in the bathroom!” she called out. “And it’s not a tub! It’s just a Jacuzzi!”

She joined Ted by the window to see the view. It was dark, now, and below them, in the corner of the park, they saw a large kidney-shaped puddle of light, with tiny dots of people swarming over it.

“It’s a skating rink!” exclaimed Judy. “She turned to Ted. Her eyes were glowing as he had not seen them glow in years - her anger vanished. “Oh, Ted, let’s!” She bubbled. “I haven’t skated since college. Do you remember? Potters Pond?”

She slid her hand around his arm at the elbow and faced the picture below, leaning on his shoulder.

“Sure,” he said softly. He lowered his face to her hair and inhaled her fragrance. “Let’s go skating.”

In the park, they quickly rented skates and found a bench to change into them. Soon they were gliding across the ice. Or, at least Judy was gliding. She had been a pretty decent skater in her day, but Ted felt lucky if he didn’t fall down.

“Here,” said Judy, appearing beside him. “Take my hand.” They skated together, a duet on ice. On impulse, Judy rotated until she was skating backwards, in front of Ted.

“Remember our ballroom lessons?” she asked.

Ted tried as best he could to move into dance position. They managed to dance-skate around a quarter of the rink. A young girl noticed them.

“Are you in the Olympics?” the girl asked him, wide-eyed.

Ted was warmed by the compliment, but only smiled.

After a few laps, Ted’s ankles felt wobbly. He steered to an empty stretch of ice along the far rail and they glided to a stop. Judy hugged him and buried her face into his coat.

He thought he heard her say, “I’m sorry Ted.”

Then she lifted her face. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do,” he insisted.

“Look at me,” she said. “I’m forty. My hair is all grey if I don’t dye it. And look at these wrinkles.” She lifted her gloved hand to touch the side of her face.

“I don’t see them,” said Ted.

“Have we done the right thing?” she asked.

“Honey, we can still go home,” said Ted.

“No, I mean we never had any children. And we haven’t really done anything, have we? I mean, people without children usually accomplish something, don’t they?”

“Well, we’ve managed to stay married for twenty years,” said Ted, “which is more than most people. And we’ve been a terrific aunt and uncle, and devoted to our parents.”

“I suppose,” said Judy. “But it still feels like something is missing.”

Ted pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pockets. Then he placed his warm palms on each of Judy’s cold cheeks and put his forehead to hers.

“What’s missing, Sweetheart, is this.” He kissed her as if he hadn’t seen her in years. For a moment, she gave in to him, but then pulled back.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said.

“Honey, it doesn’t matter where we are for Christmas, or any other holiday. For me, at least, I’m happy if you are with me.”

“But, I’m always with you,” said Judy. “It didn’t help at Thanksgiving.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. How can I explain.” Ted bowed his head a moment before continuing. “I need to connect with you. When we are with other people, doing things, especially with family, we seem to almost ignore each other. You get distracted, or I do, catering to everyone’s demands. I feel alone. My fears creep in.”

“What fears?” asked Judy.

Ted held his face next to hers, so that he did not have to look into her eyes as he spoke. He whispered, “That you don’t love me anymore. That you’ll leave me, or I’ll leave you.”

She pushed back to face him. “I will never leave you, Ted.”

She looked at his eyes and smiled. “Don’t do that. You’ll make icicles.”

Ted laughed. Holding her arm, he pushed off and they skated along the railing, slowly.

“I wish we hadn’t given our seats away,” said Judy.

“Let’s just go home,” said Ted. “We can be there in time for Christmas. There’s a red-eye flight to Omaha.”

“What about the hotel room?”

“I never checked in,” said Ted. “It was really too much money.”

Judy laughed. “Where can we get a cab?”

Another hour passed, and they had returned to JFK.

“I suppose our luggage will show up at the hotel,” said Judy.

“It’s okay,” said Ted. “It doesn’t matter.”

They passed through security. Judy followed him down the long corridors, thinking about how surprised everyone at home would be. They arrived at the gate.

Judy was confused. “Ted, this is Air France.”

Ted grinned. “I never turned in the boarding passes.”

“But our luggage?”

“In the belly of the plane.”

Judy melted into his embrace. “I do love you, Sweetheart.”

“I know,” said Ted.

He handed in the passes and they walked through the open door.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

C. Joseph Smith writes short fiction, poetry, and comic plays. He has previously published a series of children’s stories on-line, and his plays have been produced in San Francisco and Hollywood. Mr. Smith lives in San Francisco, where he draws inspiration from his work as an attorney and professional trustee.

View blog authority