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A Weeklong Rendezvous

By Alison

D/C: I own everything in this except for Chicago and North Dakota. Oh, wait, and Stephen King and Enya and Mark Twain. And Explorer's. I'm kind of writing this as I write the story…

~*~*~

Finally-the day I'd been waiting for. I'm leaving for vacation. North Dakota, more specifically.

On the flight there, I read my Stephen King book and listen to Enya. My sister, Lily, is rattling off how this is a week that she could be working and getting a paycheck. Mom's doing the crossword puzzle, and Dad's reading some old book. Mark Twain, I think.

We land and drive our rental car (a blue Explorer) to our hotel. It's nice. Homey. A lot different from Chicago. I think Chicago has the same population as the whole state of North Dakota.

We take our bags out of the trunk and put it on a cart for a bellman to take up to our room. When he finally arrives, I look at his name tag. "Mike, Montana", it says. My eyes move upward to his face. His dark hair is spilling onto his forehead. He looks at me and I feel all dizzy in a good way. I look away before my legs give out under me. When I look back at him, he's still staring at me. I blush this time and look away again. Unfortunately, Dad sees this exchange. His brow furrows as he tells Mike our room number. Mike stops looking at me long enough to carry our baggage up three flights of stairs. He smiles at us after we get situated and welcomes us to the hotel. He waits there for a tip.

Dad's still mad at him, so he pretends to have left his wallet in the car. He says if he sees him, he'll give him a tip. We all know that's not likely.

Thinking quickly, I pull out a five dollar bill out of my pocket. I tell Dad he can pay me back later as I hand the money out to Mike. He takes it, and our hands touch for the slightest second before I pull away.

With one last nod, Mike leaves. Dad's furious. Mom, as usual, agrees with him. Lily's jealous that we'd been in this state for less than an hour and I already have a boyfriend.

I don't care. I go to my room, but my thoughts are still downstairs with Mike from Montana.

That night, Dad calms down considerably as we walk down for dinner. He doesn't see Mike down at the front desk, but I do. I say I left something in the room, but as they go to dinner, I go to talk to Mike. He smiles widely as he sees me approach him.

We exchange hellos, and he thanks me for the tip earlier. He comments that he doesn't think Dad likes him very much. I laugh and introduce myself. We talk about lots of things, stopping occasionally for him to help someone else. I lose track of time and I realize I should've been at dinner twenty minutes ago. I tell Mike this and his smile disappears. It makes me feel like crying.

Without thinking, I ask him if he wants to meet tonight in the lobby, say around ten thirty? The smile returns to his face as he says he'll be there. I return the smile. He takes my hand and kisses it, all the while his eyes never leaving mine. My face turns bright red, but I'm flattered.

I go to the restaurant, making up a story about how I tripped over my suitcase and couldn't walk for while, but yes, I feel perfectly fine now. Better than fine, I'm thinking, counting down the minutes until ten thirty.

Mom, Dad, and Lily fall asleep quickly, exhausted from the plane flight. They leave me an hour to daydream before I head down to the lobby.

I make sure they really are asleep before leaving. I take the ice bucket with me in case I need to use that as an excuse.

Mike is already there, but his back's towards me when I enter. Then, as if he can sense my presence, he turns around and smiles at me. I sit down next to him, saying hello. He's still wearing his uniform. I comment on it, and he shrugs, saying he just got off work. I smile and say I don't care.

We sit there for three hours, exchanging life stories, sometimes not talking at all. But the silences aren't awkward. They're usually welcome so we can catch our breath.

Finally, after my fifth yawn, Mike says maybe I should get back upstairs. I reluctantly agree after he says he'll meet me the next night.

I walk upstairs, and for the first time, I believe in love at first sight.

Dad still tenses up whenever he sees Mike, so I'm careful to only smile at him, then look away. The next night I see him is much like the last, but I still enjoy myself. This time before we part, he confesses he thinks he's falling in love with me. In spite of the fact I'll probably never see him again after this trip, I tell him I'm falling in love with him, too. He smiles, leans over, and kisses me softly on the lips.

My mind goes a million different ways. Should I not get any closer to him because I'm leaving in a week? Or should I for the same reason? As the kiss lengthens, I know that the latter question is the one I'll follow.

The rest of our meetings go like that. Sometimes we kiss, sometimes we talk, sometimes we're silent as his arm goes around my shoulders and I lay my head on his chest.

The last meeting is difficult. We both know this will probably be the last time we ever talk to each other. I'm crying, and he's trying to comfort me, although I can see the occasional tear come to his eye. He's holding me in his arms, stroking my hair, telling me we'll see each other again. But we both know it's impossible. All I can do now is listen to him breathing, feeling his chest go up and down in a slow, even rhythm. He rubs my shoulders in an attempt to cheer me up.

We fall asleep like that. Before we know it, it's morning. We exchange one last kiss before I go upstairs. I manage to get back before anyone else wakes up. We pack and call for a bellman.

Mike comes up for our bags. Dad is still angry whenever he sees him. This time, Mike doesn't look at me. He doesn't even glance in my direction as he brings our bags down to the car. I know it's too hard for him.

It's a bittersweet farewell. He says thanks for staying at the hotel and to come back soon. At that, he finally looks at me. I look into his eyes and I know it's difficult for him to let me go.

My father tips him and we go. I watching him, fading out in the distance, fading out of my life, until I can't see him anymore.

And I cry.

I find a letter as I unpack later that night. It's from Mike. He slipped it in while bringing down our bags. It says:

This is so hard for me to write. I'm selfish, I know. We said we shouldn't do this so it wouldn't be as hard. I just needed to tell you that, no matter what, I still love you. I hate the fact that things don't always turn out the way we want. I've never felt this way and I never will again. Even if it was for only a week, it was better than never meeting you. I hope that when we get out of college, you'll look me up and we can see each other again.

I'm out of college now, and I'm doing exactly what he told me. I'm looking him up. I'm a reporter, so I can access his record easily.

What I find shocks and saddens me.

Mike got hit by a car and died three years ago.

I'm too stunned to cry. I can't feel anything. There's a deep emptiness inside of me. It will always be there.

Now, five years later, I'm married. Not out of love, more out of convenience. Richard is his name, and, as far as he knows, I never loved anyone named Mike. I still think of him every day, wishing I had more time with him.

But, to quote Mike, things don't always turn out the way we want them to.

FIN

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