Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
We planned for Jennilyn to spend a week in Maryland in the middle of the summer. She would fly out to an airport near her Aunt in Virginia. I would pick her up there to spend some time with me and my family, but she’d have her Aunt’s place as a back up in case things didn’t go well at mine.
I was determined that she want to spend as much of her time in the East with me as possible. I actually drove down the day before to be certain I could find my way in and out of the airport without any trouble. I got a parking ticket at the Landover Metro station, took the DC metro to Washington National (before it got renamed) and fully reconnoitered the route in and out. Bought flowers to greet her; I was set to impress!
And despite my best-laid plan, her visit still started with a disastrous, nearly fatal misunderstanding. Do you remember the old days, when everyone could walk down the concourses and actually wait with folks before they caught their flights? Or you could have banners and balloons waiting to greet arriving passengers?
Well, that’s how it mostly was back then. But the summer Jenni flew to Maryland, something, somewhere in the world had security tightened up. When I walked into the airport, I realized that only ticketed passengers were allowed past the check-in area. So I posted myself at the exit, where she would leave the airport concourse, holding my flowers, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I had a clear view of the arrivals board. I knew which flight she would be on, saw its status change to “arriving” and then “at gate”.
It felt like a LONG time. Had she missed the flight? Had she realized what a horrible idea it was to come see me and stayed in Salt Lake? Had she cut her hair and worn glasses, so that I didn’t see her come out? I began to grow anxious. I wanted go and find a payphone and call her house in Utah (isn’t that cute, a payphone? Because it was 1986, dear reader, NOBODY had cell phones), but I didn’t dare leave my spot, in case she came down the hallway.
Finally, I saw her walking in my direction. Her face was closed, unhappy. Later, she told me that she’d been crying. I saw her, she spotted me leaning on the “NO UNTICKETED PASSENGERS PASS THIS SIGN” sign and came to me. We hugged (somewhat awkwardly), and she wanted to know where I had been?
Why wasn’t I there to greet her?
Oh cursed security and your thwarting of young love! This was my first encounter with something that’s been an interesting feature of the whole rest of our relationship; Jenni’s hair-trigger Worst-Case-Scenario reaction. Whenever something happens, Jennilyn will tend to forecast its meaning to be as dark as possible. So when her plane landed, and I wasn’t there, then I must have met someone else and decided I didn’t want to be with her.
Even though we had talked 18 hours ago!
There was a truly forgettable 8-episodes-and-done TV series a few years ago called “The Unusuals”. It’s a good spot to watch a pre-“Hurt Locker” Jeremy Renner running around being police. Anyway, one episode featured a couple who have a conflict because the girl had a dream where her boyfriend made her mad, and then he was perplexed by the fact she was acting mad in the real world because of something that happened in her dream.
This issue is profound and eternal in considering how people relate.
Things go awry all the time. It’s the nature of the mortal world we inhabit. None of us has the right to evaluate how another person reacts to a negative situation. Like Barney taught us all, feelings aren’t good or bad, they just are. So if ever someone is mad at you and you think their reasoning is unfair . . .
So be it. Love them. Listen to them.
And apologize for whatever it was you did in their dream. Their unreasonable sorrow or anger deserves nothing but your love, your understanding and your patience.
I hugged her. We retrieved her luggage and boarded the metro. We had to make a transfer from one line to another, and sat on a bench for several long moments, talking and holding hands. We metroed our way back to my car, and then on home to Aberdeen.
We went to amish country. Got ice cream. Saw the Atlantic Ocean and ate crabs.
Went to Ocean City. Wisely decided that should be just a daytrip and drove home the same day.
Had crabs.
The week passed. I think it was understood between us that Jenni had to spend some of the time with her family, and not just with me. Three days before she was scheduled to fly home, I drove her down to her Uncle’s house.
OK, not exactly. I left to drove her down late, after dinner. The route was simple, down to the temple and then past to I-66. Now, I had been to the Washington DC Temple before, I-95 South to the DC outer loop beltway. But it was late, dark, raining, and I missed the exit for the outer loop.
And it took me . . . about 2 hours to realize I was way off course. I saw the sign for Quantico and I knew I was in trouble. We pulled over, made some long-distance collect calls for directions, and headed back towards her Uncle’s house. By the time we got there, it was ridiculously late at night, and they insisted I stay tonight on their couch in the basement.
Breakfast the next day meant one more meal together. I realized during breakfast that I had actually met her cousin the Fall previously in a Biology class at BYU (she remembered me making a comment about agreeing to shave my beard before going to BYU, and that my agreement to the term ended any right I had to be indignant about the requirement). I was delighted with every second.
I drove her to the Metro so she could ride in and see some art museums. I knew it was time to let her go, but I told myself (another theme that has presented itself often over the years) that a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. I hopped the metro and rode into DC with her. We bid farewell on the platform, I shouted, “I love you!” and then rode back to the car, and then home.
I do not remember what we talked about that morning. I barely remember what we talked about the entire week. So much of the time we spend together just fills up with the mundane, the minutiae. This still happens, though now the time fills with scheduling, driving, cleaning. No matter how drab the passing time might appear to others, time with Jennilyn . . . that’s exactly how I want my time to pass.
I still want to spend every last minute with her. And then the five more minutes after that.
Previously, on Every Epic Love Story
chapter 8, the first of many long-distance-relationship episodes!
Next, on Every Epic Love Story
chapter 9, our first, last, one great science fiction convention story!
