Wind

Wind

Looking down at the courtyard behind my hotel, I see leaves swirling around.  It’s a three-sided courtyard, so when the wind is just right, it creates a small tornado of leaves and debris, twirling around the center.  They turned and rustled, I wondered how the gusts would affect my flight.

Time to head out, so I roll my bags out the door and down the hall to the elevator.  Time to check out and head for the airport.  A week in Madrid.  Sometimes, I love my job.  Madrid is a place where I have customers, and friends.  Occasionally, it winds up being a convenient stop on my way back home from Northern Europe or the Middle East.  I stop in whenever I get the chance.

As I check out, the girls at the desk are glancing behind me, but I don’t catch on.  As I finish, I turn to grab my bags and head for the door.  I stop abruptly as I finally figure out what the girls where glancing at, it was Jazmín, standing right behind me.  “Wha…Hey, what are you doing here?,” I say, clearly surprised to see her.  But she isn’t here for conversation.  She’s upset, she’s been crying.  “What’s the matter”, I drop my voice, into a lower, hopefully reassuring, tone.

“I…” she starts, but hesitates, “I…want to go with you.”   “But, where…what do you mean?” I’m trying to figure out, “…it’s time for me to head to the airport.”  But then, I see beside my suitcase, there is another suit case.  “To Houston.  Can I?,” she asks, in a voice I could never say no to.  “But why, hun, what’s wrong?  Hey, does Juan know you’re here?” I stumble.  Now her emotion rises, she turns so I don’t see her tearing up, but it doesn’t do much good.

“Hey, come on now.  Who takes care of you?,” I ask as I put my arms around her, “¿Quien es tu piedra, miha?”  She sobs and asks if we can talk outside, “sure”, she grabs her suitcase, so I guess she really means it, she wants to go.  We move toward the door as I glance back at the girls behind the desk.  They are all watching, looking like they are trying to figure out the plot of a movie, but now the movie is moving out the door.  Their faces follow us as I shrug my shoulders.  “Hasta luego…next time,” I say, hoping I don’t get both of us, and all our bags, stuck in the revolving door.

“Can I?...go with you?...will your wife be mad?”, she says again outside, in a sad voice that I, and probably most adult male humans, couldn’t refuse.  I say, “no, bay-bee, of course she won’t”, having no idea if that’s true or not, since I still have no idea of what’s going on, or what Jazmín has in mind.  But, Jazi trusts me, or she wouldn’t be here, and she needs something.  I don’t know what it is, and maybe neither does she, but it’s obviously important.  I trust her, and I love her, so whatever she needs, I’ll do.

As always, there are plenty of cabs on the Plaza de Castilla, so I ask for one that takes credit cards, Jazi gets in.  The driver and I load the bags and we’re off to the airport.  “Hey, I didn’t ask you…do you have a ticket?”.  She looks down.  “No”, she says in a crap-I-didn’t-think-of-that tone, “can we get one there?”.  “Hmmm, the flight is sometimes full, but as I checked-in on-line it looked as if there are some seats”, I’m hoping…, “let me call 1-800-Platinum-Elite-Guy, and see if they can take care of us.”

Sure enough there are some seats, and with my fly-way-to-often-Elite-Status-Level, I’m able to hook her up with a ticket, for Miles.  “Hold on a sec,” I say, “Jazi, when do you want to return to Madrid?”  She’s looking out the window, and just shakes her head.  “Crap”, I’m thinking, “what the hell could be up?...what’s got her so upset?  “How about One Way, for now,” I tell the Elite Desk, and they fix the problem.  I love being a “Platinum Dude”…life is so much smoother.

We ride in silence for a while.  The trip takes about 45 minutes.  I decide to just sit, and wait for her to speak, I don’t want to press her.  Finally, “Danny…”, she says, still not looking at me…”I’m pregnant.”  Wham.  Well, I could tell it was something very heavy…something big enough for her to drop everything and get on a plane with me…a plane to a place several thousand miles from Madrid.  Several thousand miles from a life that she has worked so hard to build for herself.  And, several thousand miles…from Juan.

“Hey…you know that I love you, yes?” I ask, very softly.  She nods, choking back tears.  “And you know I will do anything you need me to do, yes?,” softer still, and as warmly as I can.  She nods again, as I put my arm around her, pulling her to me.  She puts her head on my shoulder, her arm up onto my chest and the tears really break loose.  The driver is looking in the mirror, and I motion to him with a, polite, mind-your-own-business-and-watch-the-road-ass-hole kind of look.

“But honey, I have to ask…does Juan know where you are?  Does he know where you are going?”  She pulls away and looks out the window.  Without answering, I can tell Juan isn’t in on the “I’m-going-to-Houston” plan.  Surely he knows about the baby, surely he’s freaked out by now, franticly looking for Jazi.  “Bay-bee, we need to tell him you are with me…he’ll be panicked looking for you”, I plead.  “No, not yet, I don’t know…I just don’t know…” really sobbing again.  I drop that line of discussion for a moment, I’ll see if I can find a spot with a few less landmines...

“But…he knows?, yes?”, I’m wondering how much lower and how much more reassuring my voice can get.  “Yes”, she says, now angry.  “We had a fight…a big one…” her emotion rising.  Now, I know Juan.  He’s a stand-up guy, I like him.  If I had a daughter, and Jazmín is as close as it gets for me, I could welcome Juan as a son-in-law.  “A fight, about the baby?,” I ask.  Jazi is from Venezuela, and we are about to see it.

“No, about everything!”  The clouds open up, her voice rises, and lightning begins to strike.  “About my life, about me coming here to Espain! (she always pronounces it that way…I think it’s cute…usually, but now I’m looking for a foxhole).  “I came here, I went to school, I paid for it all myself!  I worked hard!  I want to make a career, Danny, I want to make a family….”, the rain begins again, she’s crying harder than ever.  She pulls away from me with a very independent, I-can-handle-this-myself-attitude, the kind that brought her here to Madrid, but I pull her back, and she puts her arms around me again.

Sobbing, “I don’t know, Danny…I don’t know what to do…”, she trails off.  With this, I know what’s in her mind.  She’s done so much, worked so hard, she’s at the brink of accomplishing what she wants, and just a few feet before the Goal Line, this happens.  She’s wondering “what to do…”  In this context, “what-to-do” has awful, terrible connotations for a young Catholic girl.  She’s wondering if she should “make a choice”.  Many women do it.  Many women feel that they must do so.  The ability to do this gives some women a badly needed power over their lives.  

But she also wonders if she could ever, ever forgive herself.  It has all come crashing together, just in time for me to come to town.  I hadn’t had much time to see her on this trip, just a quick lunch one afternoon.  I had some wine, but this time, she didn’t.  I didn’t get it then, but today explains her quiet, pensive mood.  It explains why she wasn’t drinking.  It also explains a few of her questions.  I thought it was just passing interest that made her ask what flight home I usually took, and finally, what time I would leave the hotel, for the airport.  Apparently, she’d waited in the hotel lobby for more than an hour, getting there early, so she didn’t miss me.  She’d asked the girls if I’d gone, but didn’t want to call my room.  Maybe she didn’t know…where to begin.

As I held her, I felt the warmth and comfort I always feel from her touch.  My mind drifted back to the leaves, to the wind, swirling around the courtyard.  Her life was blowing around in that same wind.  All her plans seemed up in the air, in great jeopardy of crashing to the ground.  Some time ago, as we were first getting to know each other, I joked that my stable, responsible nature, made me a “rock”, un piedra.  I joked that it was unfortunate that, “para ser un piedra, no hay muy divertido” (to be a rock isn’t a lot of fun).  But, that is who I am, I told her.  “When the wind is blowing and the waves are crashing over the boat, a rock is just what some people need, something to cling to in the storm.”  “You remember that”, I had told her.  And now, here we were, pulling up at the airport, with me wondering what the hell the “rock” was going to do about all of this.

We went inside and Jazmín went off to the Ladies Room, to try to recover.  Unfortunately, I don’t have Juan’s cell number, and I’m not going to ask Jazi for it now.  I’m afraid he isn’t at his office, surely he’s beside himself searching for Jazi, but at least I know how to look up his office number, so I try it.  I get his voice mail as I expect, only hoping that he calls in and checks it for messages from Jazmín.  It’s Friday.  If he has to sweat the whole weekend not knowing where she is, it will kill him.  “Juan, amigo, it’s Danny.  Amigo, do not worry, Jazi is here, with me.  Amigo, we are at the airport.  Jazi wants to go home with me.  I don’t know what’s on her mind…she told me about…about the baby.  Amigo, don’t panic.  You know I will take care of her.  I will call you again when we land…no te preoccupes de nada.”  I hang up.

On the plane, she finally settles down.  She puts her head on my shoulder, holding my hand, she drifts off to a deep sleep.  She probably hasn’t slept for days.  I think my wife is a piedra too.  Jennifer.  At the gate, I had stepped aside and called her.  “Hey there, it’s me,” I started.  “Hey”, she says, in a tone that always tells me she’s glad I’m coming home.  She’s a woman of few words.  Sometimes, one has to gather the bulk of her message through judgment of intonation alone.  Sometimes, that really pisses me off, but this time, it’s working ok.

“Honey, you remember Jazmín… I’m bringing her home with me…something is up with her, something big, and she needs to stay with us for a while”, I’m wincing, “can you make up the middle room for her?”.  “Ok”, she says.  “Don’t worry…I’m not in any trouble”, now I’m ‘double-wincing’.  “Oo-kay”, she says, “be careful”.  Holy crap, “o-k”?  I’m bringing home a woman she’s never met, but of whom she knows I’m very fond, to stay in our middle bedroom, for an indefinite time, and all she says is “ok”, without even asking what’s going on???…wow, that woman is a rock.  Even more importantly, the tone, which was 80% of her actual reply, was smooth, positive and supportive, the way it always is.  Maybe I don’t give her enough credit.

I finally get Jazi to my house, it’s late afternoon.  She doesn’t want to eat, feeling a little “queezy”.  Jen hears “queezy”, and immediately she knows what’s up.  Women, go figure.  (They don’t even have to read the first part of the story!)  She looks at me, and I hold up my hands, innocent.  Well, I don’t know how innocent.  I once heard a guy in a movie say that there isn’t any such thing as an innocent man, over the age of 12.  But anyway, in this case, I’m in the clear.  Once the news of the baby is out, Jen takes Jazmín to the kitchen.

They scratch around a little and fine something Jazi thinks she can eat.  “Have you been…to the doctor”, Jen asks.  “No”, Jazi admits.  “Ok”, Jen continues, “tomorrow, we’ll fix that.”  Jazi doesn’t reply, just looks at her plate, which, in “woman-speak” must mean “Yes, you are right, I should do it, thank you”.  This communicating with women crap takes skill and patience…yes, a LOT of patience.

I hear Jazi rustling around a bit in the wee hours of the morning.  Maybe all the things on her mind, maybe the time change from Madrid, but she can’t sleep.  When I can’t sleep, I’m given to crawling out of bed and crawling into the bed in the middle bedroom, so I can toss and turn without bothering Jen.  So, I coax Jazi back to bed and climb in with her.  This also, will somehow not shock or upset Jen when she finds us in the morning (of course, I don’t know that yet, but I just trust and relax).  I snuggle up behind Jazi and in seconds I hear the slow, steady breathing that tells me she’s fast asleep.

I still have thoughts of “what the hell am I going to do about all this” going through my mind, but I’m also really tired, and having Jazmín this close to me feels really wonderful.  Soon, I’m asleep as well.  Next thing I know, Jen’s hand is on my shoulder, saying Jazi needs to get some breakfast.  Finding me in bed with “another woman” and all she asks me is if I want eggs.  “Yes, dear, eggs would be nice”, I say in a groggy tone.  Jazi realizes that we are sleeping in the same bed, and jumps up, hoping she hasn’t caused a fuss, but then she hangs a quick right and heads to the front bathroom to throw-up.  Jen looks up the doctor’s number.

After the appointment, Jazi’s mood changed.  She was quiet, so I didn’t know what to think.  I asked her again if she’d called Juan.  I knew she hadn’t, but just wanted to nudge her.  “Will Juan marry you?” I asked.  “Yes”, she said, “He asked me some months ago…even ‘before’…but I told him I needed to think.  I need to know if I will stay in Espain, or if my career will make me take a job someplace else.”  “What about, well, ‘since’...the baby”, I continued.  “Yes, he says he loves me.  He says he wants me even more.  He says now maybe I will have to make up my mind,” she stopped.  Ooooo..he didn’t say ‘have to’?  Did he?  I’m cringing again.

“Danny,” I’m ducking as her voice rises, “I don’t want to marry him because I have to.  I don’t want to stay in Espain because I have to.  Espain is so far away from my family, so far from my mom…how can I take care of a baby all by myself?” she demanded, with emotion, but not anger.  “Well, with Juan, you wouldn’t exactly be by yourself”, I said, but I knew it would go nowhere.  Jazmín is a very capable, intelligent, independent woman.  She’s feeling squeezed for time, as she tries to develop her career before the time she intended to be having kids.  Squeezed for time as that biological clock ticks louder and louder.  Now this…this interruption.  It was more than endangering her career, it was endangering her independence.   “Well, feeling complete can be a bit difficult all alone”, I said, “Maybe trading a little independence for warmth, love, support… maybe that isn’t such a bad trade”.

“Danny, I’m trying to figure out…my…my ‘options’ ”, she could barely bring herself to say even that…“I am trying to figure out what to do.”  “Bay-bee, mija,” I asked, “what do you want…I mean, who do you want me to be for you?  How can I help you?”  “Well,” she said, “I slept last night because you held me, because you were there for me, because you didn’t push me.”  “No bay-bee, I won’t push you.  I just want to support you… in whatever you do.  But I also want you to think about the future, how this decision may affect you, for a long time.  And, how it affects Jaun.”

“I’m not forgetting him, I promise.  I just don’t know.  I had to come here, with you.  I just didn’t know anyone else I could talk to this way”, she said, ripping my heart.  I just hate to see her suffering like this.  “Mija,” I said, “if I were your father, your uncle, big brother maybe, I think I would tell you this:  I would never allow someone to tell my daughter, or my niece, that she could not make this difficult, very difficult decision.  But, that does not mean that I am in favor of such things.  More than one member of my family were babies that were ‘not-so-planned-for’.  I think now, ‘what would the family look like without them’ “.  She’s starting to cry again, and I’m thinking “I really suck at this”.

That night, again I slept, like a baby myself, snuggled up behind Jazi.  And somehow, again, Jen seemed to understand.  I felt guilty, because it felt so good for me to hold her, so warm, so perfect beside me.  I woke in the morning to find her up already.  Her suit case was closed up, and she was on the phone.  “I can’t get a ticket”, she said.  “Well, we didn’t call the Elite people”, I smiled.

The flights were full, and so we booked a ticket for the following day.  When I took her to the airport, I held her as long as I could.  Here I was, I was supposed to be comforting her, and it was me who didn’t want to let go.

As she disappeared behind Security, I looked for Juan’s number and dialed.  “Amigo, she flies overnight, and lands tomorrow.  Madrid-Barajas - Terminal 1.  She should be coming out of Customs-Immigration just about 11:00am,” I told him.  “Oh my god, thank you”, he said, I could hear him tearing up.  “How is she”, he asked.  “She’ll be with you soon, amigo.  I know you will take care of her.  I hope everything works out,” I prayed.  “Ojala, migo, ojala.  Muchísimas gracias por su ayuda,” he said.  “You guys take care.  Call me when you can,” I hung up.

Juan had an arm-full of red roses.  He pushed through the people to get to her.  He didn’t present her with the flowers, it was if he didn’t know what to do first.  “Mi amor, I love you,” he said, whatever you decide, I still love you.  Whatever you decide, I still want you.  Please marry me,” he begged.  Tears again running down her cheeks, he saw her nod as he fell to his knees.  “And…and…the baby?” he barely dared to ask.  “Yes,” she smiled, “…and the baby”.

Sobbing there on his knees, Juan hugged Jazi around her middle.  He kissed her barely swollen tummy.  He spoke softly, and hoped the baby could hear his voice.  Jazmín was all he had ever wanted and for the last couple of weeks, that had all been in danger.  It worried him sick for her to run away like that, and all he could think of now, was how wonderful it was to have her back.

Outside, the Spanish sun was bright.  The wind was calm, and the courtyard had been swept clean.  Jazmín knew where she was going.  It was in a different direction, but she had made the choice to go there.  Plenty of uncertainty, yes, but now, she wouldn’t be alone.  Her own family was thousands of miles away, but Juan’s family was just down the road.  In the end, the most difficult decision of her life, was no decision at all.  There was a baby… there is a baby… yes, there will be, a baby.

- o 0 o -

 

 

-          Mark W. Laughlin

23-March-2012

 

 



Photo by Mark W. Laughlin