NOTE: This is the first short story in my upcoming collection. The second is here. This is a work of fiction.
I met Simona in the smoking room of Osaka’s Kansai International Airport (KIX) in very late November. She was 42, Lithuanian, and drop dead gorgeous. I was on my way to New York to see bands and she was going back to Philly where she was living. We smoked a few last cigarettes and boarded the plane.
On the plane I was seated in the first ten rows of coach and she was seated in the back. She asked my neighbor in the middle seat (I had the aisle) to switch and the woman agreed. Simona was next to me.
She immediately ordered two white wines for her and two for me. The stewardess said, well, it’s one at a time, but since this is an international flight… The flight crew would alter its point of view of the two of us in due course.
We talked, and soon we were flirting. Full on. She got up to use the bathroom and left the seat rest up. I took this as a sign. Within ninety seconds of her being back in her seat we were petting, pecking, and then fully making out. It was electric. Automatic.
Soon a man from a few rows up began complaining that we were “making noise.” We weren’t saying a word; our lips were locked. But he said so, and the stewardess came back and said we were cut off. Simona asked for one more, and got it.
Then, in short order, a man—maybe the chief guy—came back. “The pilot is prepared to kick you off the flight if you don’t cool it.” This was Air Canada, and he delivered the bad news in the most Canadian way possible. Polite, a little snooty, and totally assured. I stood up and, somewhat absurdly, tried to shake his hand. “We’ll settle down,” I promised.
Simona, on the other hand, was distraught. “It’s because I’m a second language learner. That’s why. It’s discrimination.”
We survived the flight and landed in Toronto, where we went for a coffee and cake. We started making out like teenagers again in front of the staff, who laughed. We drank our coffee. I had to connect to JFK and she was going to Philly. We exchanged Facebook, and she patted me on the ass as I left.
“My future ex-husband,” she said.
I was staying at an Airbnb somewhere in deep Brooklyn and I couldn’t hack it. The first few nights were OK because the shows I was seeing were in Brooklyn, but the later shows were in the Lower East Side. I had to move to Manhattan, so I took a room at the Roxy downtown. From there I texted Simona.
I told her I was coming to Philly and would be staying at a nice hotel right off Rittenhouse Square. Would she join me? She messaged back that she would like to, but her aunt kept a close eye on her comings and goings and she was living in her house. Simona worked in a bank. Then I said, you are 42 years old. And she said, yeah, OK, I’ll meet you.
Simona drove down to my hotel and picked me up. We drove around and went to the Rocky statue and she took me by the place where they keep the Liberty Bell. I had wanted to go see Jay Som, an up-and-coming musician, but she wanted to see a comedy show. She asked me who should get the tickets. I said I didn’t know the show, and she said, figure it out, you’re the man.
We went to a fish restaurant for dinner and she ordered a bottle of white. Then another half. We drank deeply and ate. When the bill came she offered to split it. I was prepared to pay for the whole night, but she somehow worked out that I had no money. She was smart like that.
We moved to the comedy show. She drank more wine and we left early. We went back to the hotel where I had prepared wine and chocolate. We drank a little and she undressed.
We kissed and I went down on her. I had a condom and put it on, but after the act it had disappeared. I went to shower. When I came out she told me the condom was gone.
“It’s OK. If I get pregnant I will keep the child. You don’t need to worry.”
Uh, OK.
I didn’t want to have a child with Simona; after all, we had just met five days ago. But there it was.
We slept naked and woke the next morning. I entered her from behind and she said, “don’t come in me.” I didn’t. We both showered and went down for breakfast.
After avocado toast and coffee we went to get her car. It was taking forever, so I got a cab as I had to get back to the train station and back to New York. She kissed me goodbye at the door of the cab.
That was the last time I ever saw her.