Destination, Wedding!

by Xavier Mayne

  “I think he was trying to make up for the fact that he never eats,” Sandler said, sweeping his hand out over a table laden with all manner of food.

  “It looks like when my high school international relations club put on a dinner,” Donnelly said. “Because our little town was about as far removed from anything international as it could possibly be, we tried to make up for it by cooking a dish from every land.” He glanced up at Sandler as he sat. “I drew Kyrgyzstan. Do you want to know what they eat in Kyrgyzstan?” He stuck his tongue out. “No, you do not want to know what they eat in Kyrgyzstan.”

  “I’m sure if you made it, it was delicious,” Sandler said as he swabbed up some hummus with a triangle of pita.

  Donnelly smiled. “That’s something Ethan would say.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Nothing,” he said sadly, setting his phone down. “Still nothing.”

  “He probably dropped his phone into a puddle or something,” Sandler said in what was clearly a willfully upbeat tone. “Or, better yet, he’s found a way to get to New York and can’t use his phone. Like he’s on a chartered plane, or a long-distance bus in an area with no coverage.”

  Donnelly shook his head. “He’ll find a way. I just have to stop worrying about it and trust that he’ll get there.”

  A short while later, a groaning rumble in the distance made Donnelly stop chewing. “What’s—”

  He was cut off by a sudden jolt as the train car lurched several feet. He was thrust back in his seat, while Sandler was thrown toward the table. Donnelly caught the thermos of coffee (he saw now why Sandler had put the lid back on it after pouring them a cup), and Sandler grabbed at several containers of food that threatened to slide to the floor. As suddenly as they had crashed forward, they stopped with a great thud. Donnelly looked at Sandler for an explanation.

  “Wait for it,” he said, holding his hand up. Then another, smaller jolt, and the car sat still once more. “Shunting engine. They’re getting ready to haul us out to the main for the train to New York to pick us up. We’ll start moving in a minute.”

  Just as he had foretold, the freight car gave another shudder about a minute later, a gentle nudging motion rippled through, and this time there was no complementary halt. But a great noise emanated from the floor as the train car negotiated what sounded like a balletic sequence of switches and crossings. About five minutes later, they felt the car slow and come to a gentle halt.

  “Now we wait for the train to come by. It’ll take a while for it to pass—some of these trains are hundreds of cars long—and then it’ll stop and they’ll hook us up. Then there’s nothing between us and New York City but a couple hundred miles of freight track. Simple!”

  “Simple,” Donnelly said with a wry smile. “This is all so overwhelmingly complicated I can’t even believe you’d use that word. But thank you for getting it all figured out.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Sandler said, pouring more coffee. “Now, how do hoboes pass the time between stations?”

  Mexico City

  THE MEXICO City terminal was packed with people, all apparently trying to make some kind of change to their reservations. The flight delays that plagued the US had spread while Brandt and Kerry made their way from Tijuana to Mexico City, and now only select flights were being allowed to leave. Most had been cancelled altogether.

  Brandt stood before the departure board, looking morosely up at the listing of nearly comprehensively cancelled flights. “Everything that isn’t cancelled is delayed. And everything that’s only delayed isn’t going anywhere near New York. I’m no closer to getting to that ship now than I was in San Diego. And we thought this was a good idea… why, exactly?” he asked Kerry.

  She studied the board as well, silent, her jaw set. Suddenly, she jumped. “That,” she said, pointing. “That’s why we thought this was a good idea.”

  Brandt followed her finger, then squinted at the board. Finally, he saw it. It was a flight to Madrid, whose status had just gone from “cancelled” to “delayed.” Next to this new status was a revised departure time less than thirty minutes away.

  “Let’s go,” Kerry whispered. “Let’s get you on that flight.” She tore off in the direction of the gate listed for the Madrid flight, with Brandt following right behind.

  “But I don’t want to go to Madrid,” he called after her.

  “At least you’ll be in Europe, and the rest of the trip you can make by train or bus or something,” she replied as they jogged through the terminal. “Hell, you’ll have nearly two weeks—you could buy a backpack and walk to the wedding.”

  “There’s got to be a way to get to the ship. I don’t want Gabriel to have to make the trip alone. I have to get there.”

  Kerry stopped, grabbing him by the elbow so he stopped as well. “Look, hon, there’s no chance you’re getting to New York tonight or tomorrow, or probably for the next few days. This is your best shot. If we can’t get you on the Madrid flight, we’ll work on plan B. Okay?”

  He reluctantly nodded, and they resumed their quickstepping progress to the Madrid gate.

  The agent at the ticket counter had a lilting accent that reminded Brandt very much of Nestor’s, but whereas Nestor only ever spoke gently and flirtatiously, the ticket agent wielded his voice with devastating effect.

  “No, sir,” he said over and over again as Brandt asked for a seat—any seat—on the flight to Madrid. “Flight is full. No seat is not taken for this flight. Try mañana.”

  Brandt stepped away from the desk. “Well, it looks like it’s not going to happen today. I guess I can camp out here and see what I can get tomorrow.”

  “I don’t like your chances, buddy,” Kerry replied. “My guy said that unless we got you out tonight, it could be days. Everybody and his hermano is going to be down here trying to work the southern crossing. He said Miami was already swamped, and it was only going to get worse every minute that New York and Boston are closed. This is your shot.”

  Without another word she scurried over to the crowd of milling passengers waiting to board the flight to Madrid. Brandt was too busy clutching his temples and running worst-case scenarios to hear what she was saying, but she returned to the ticket counter five minutes later with a middle-aged couple in tow.

  “Ethan, darling, I’d like you to meet Juan and Esmerelda.”

  “Kerry, what are you—”

  “They have graciously agreed to give us their seats so that we can start our honeymoon. Isn’t that lovely?”

  He gaped at her, too stunned to speak.

  Kerry leaned over to Esmerelda. “Men, right? The only time they stop telling us what to do is when we actually need them to speak.” The women shared a conspiratorial giggle, then quickly regained their composure.

  “Now, we just need to arrange for the ticket change,” Kerry said, guiding the couple to the ticket counter and beginning to explain to the ticket agent what they were proposing to do.

  Fifteen minutes later, Brandt and Kerry had taken Juan and Esmerelda’s place in the queue for the plane to Madrid.

  “Are you going to tell me why you wanted a seat on the plane? I mean, I’m glad to have the company, but Mexico City was already a bit out of your way. Now you’re going to Madrid?”

  “Well, I was getting nowhere asking for a single ticket. Then it struck me—surely someone would be willing to give up a couple of seats to honeymooners, right? I only had to ask three couples before I found someone willing to take pity on us. So suddenly we had to be married, and both of us were going to Madrid.”

  “I can’t believe you’d do that for me,” Brandt said quietly.

  “I am a somewhat eccentric person, but I am a romantic through and through. This is the best chance we have to get to your wedding, and I wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. Besides, I’ve been working too much lately, so I’m just going to take some time off. In Europe, apparently!”

  “This is amazing. Thank you.”

  She nodded gracio
usly. Then she seemed to become aware that people were looking expectantly at them, and she leaned in, a little awkwardly, and kissed him on the nose.

  Brandt was startled, but kept it from showing as best he could. What startled him perhaps more was the reaction among the assembled passengers to that little peck on the nose. Immediately there were smiles and warm glances and little nods of approval. It was as if the entire crowd shared the joy at seeing the newlyweds show their affection for each other.

  Brandt knew full well, and felt it in his heart like the stab of a knife, that had he been there with his actual betrothed and they had shared this casual intimacy, the looks would have been different. Maybe here and there a younger face would have softened, but Brandt knew what kind of reaction a kiss between men was likely to provoke. Especially in a more traditional country than his own. He felt a little sick at the realization.

  “I need to call Gabriel,” he said. He stepped out of the line, but was immediately stopped by the gate agent.

  “Please, sir, we will board shortly. You must stay in the boarding area.”

  “I just need to make a phone call,” he protested.

  “There is no time,” she responded. At that moment the boarding door swung open, and the gate agent gestured to it. “You see, sir, we begin now.”

  Brandt looked helplessly at the agent, at the door, and at Kerry.

  “He’ll be fine,” she said softly, putting her arm through his. “You’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.” They began to shuffle forward to board the plane.

  “I just wish… I just want….” He fell silent. “I just need… him.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, pulling his arm tighter. “You’ll be with him soon.”

  “Soon I’ll be in Madrid,” he said miserably. “That’s not even close to where he is.” He paused. “At least to where I think he is. Who even knows at this point?”

  “You’re right,” she said as they found their seats, together in a pod on the left side of the cabin in the first-class section. “The best we can do is get you there. And as soon as we land, we’ll be able to find out exactly where he is.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said, trying to smile even though he felt like punching something. Or crying.

  “Me too,” she said, mostly to herself. “Me too.”

  It was late in the day when the flight finally took wing on its way to Madrid; several hours had been added to the itinerary due to having to route around the ash cloud that was blocking the northern Atlantic.

  En route, after dinner had been served and the lights dimmed to allow the passengers to sleep, Kerry turned to Brandt. The long, wild day they’d had showed in the tired corners of her eyes as she yawned and looked at him for a while.

  “What?” he asked lightly.

  “Just seeing how you’re holding up,” she said, a sleepy heaviness in her voice.

  “I honestly cannot tell you how I’m doing,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought the panel discussion would be the biggest challenge I would face today. It seems like a week ago, and everything that’s happened since dwarfs it completely. I’ve been sitting here hoping that I would just wake up and find myself on the plane arriving in New York. But I keep opening my eyes, and here I am, winging my way across the ocean instead of sailing across it with Gabriel. And who knows what will happen once we land. At this rate I’m never going to get married.”

  “I’ve only known you for a couple of days, but here’s something I know for sure: once you put your mind to something, you get it done. And I cannot imagine your darling Gabriel is any different. You will be married. All will be fine. And this will be a thrilling tale you will tell your kids every year when they make you two a special dinner for your anniversary. It will become a family tradition, and you will laugh and laugh at how you circled the globe looking for each other.”

  He smiled. She had a way of making everything okay. Not the way that Donnelly did, by bending reality to his will, but by picking up a situation and turning it over and around until she saw its good side. And then making him believe it would turn out that way.

  “Thank you,” he said. “That sounds perfect. I hope that’s how it turns out.”

  She nodded sleepily. “It will. Now you should get some rest, and tomorrow we’ll go get you a happy ending.” She reclined her seat until it was flat, pulled up her blanket, and closed her eyes.

  Brandt watched her fall asleep, her long, slow breaths evidence of a peace he didn’t think he would be able to attain. It was the last conscious thought he had before being awakened by the flight attendant bringing breakfast just a few hours later.

  “It feels like I just fell asleep,” he said as Kerry’s seat whirred into an upright position on the other side of the discreet polished-wood divider.

  “That’s the joy of flying eastbound,” she said with a weary shake of her head and an ill-concealed yawn. “We’re basically thrusting ourselves into the face of time at half the speed of sound. That’s why I always fly to the West Coast on Monday and back East at the end of the week. Give myself the weekend to sleep it off.”

  A heavily accented message on the PA system interrupted their breakfast to announce that the flight had been routed farther south than normal “out of an abundance of caution,” and the plane would therefore arrive in the late afternoon rather than midday as scheduled.

  “Well, there goes another day,” Brandt grumbled.

  “I like the part where the captain assured us that they had taken on extra fuel in case this happened,” Kerry said with a chuckle. “I thought it would go without saying that they would look at the fuel gauge, you know, before deciding to stay airborne for several more hours.”

  “I’m with you. That they felt they had to say it at all makes me a little more concerned than if they hadn’t.”

  “Control freaks like us shouldn’t fly,” she said wryly and stabbed at a strawberry in her breakfast yogurt.

  He nodded. “Gabriel is the one who reels me in when I get this way. I can just look at him, smiling back at me, and I feel the stress just melt away.”

  She smiled. “He sounds amazing.”

  “He is. You’d never imagine he’s the same man who shot a guy straight through the heart after Greg and Peter’s wedding.”

  The blood drained from Kerry’s face. “That… sounds….” She stumbled and looked blankly at him. “That happened?”

  Brandt nodded. “Actually, our bullets ended up in his heart together. But that was only after Gabriel shot him in the shoulder and charged at him. He was about to shoot a defenseless man—for the second time.”

  Kerry shook her head. “Wow. I can see why you want him by your side.”

  “He’s really the sweetest guy you’d ever meet. As long as you aren’t a bad guy, that is.”

  “Noted, Officer,” she said with a serious note in her voice—and a salute for good measure.

  They finished their breakfasts and waited for the plane to loop its long way to Madrid.

  Evening, on the railroad to New York

  THEY WERE on their third hand of gin rummy (the birdman had thoughtfully provided a deck of cards along with the food and coffee) when they heard the rumble of the approaching freight train. Its horn sounded just as the engines roared past, and for the next several minutes, the men were treated to a steadily lowering pitch of rumbling and wailing as the train slowed. Then, as the noise finally died away, they were once again in motion.

  This time the jolting was side to side as they were switched across what felt like several tracks. Then Donnelly could sense them slowing, and they drifted along for some time, motion barely noticeable. Next, without warning, a clunk and shudder as they came to an abrupt halt. From the front of the car came a vigorous knocking and clanking, as if the freight car were being bolted permanently to the back of the train. Finally, silence.

  “This is my favorite part,” Sandler whispered, his head cocked as if scanning for distant sounds.

  “What i
s it?” Donnelly whispered back.

  “When the engines pull forward, the slack gets taken out of the train couplings. Each car moves forward a little, and then tugs the one behind it. You can hear it coming—listen.”

  Donnelly turned to the side, trying to imagine what the sound would be like. He shook his head, but then he heard it—in the distance, but getting closer. It sounded like when he was a kid, listening to a hailstorm as it approached through the summer heat. Louder and louder the booming crackling came, until finally it was so loud they just had to be next—but it got louder still. And then they jolted forward.

  “Awesome, right?” Sandler asked, smiling broadly. “It’s like motion itself, realized in iron, turned into sound. Gives me a chill.”

  “You really love traveling, don’t you?” Donnelly asked as the freight car picked up speed.

  “I do, but especially when I have someone to share it with. Which is almost never. I mean, I make small talk in lounges and things like that, but I never get to spend this much time with someone. It’s just kind of a relief to be able to say the things I think out loud and have someone hear them.” He looked at Donnelly a little sheepishly. “I must sound insane.”

  “Not at all. I’m experiencing the complete opposite right now, because Ethan and I normally spend every single minute of every single day together. Honestly, the silver lining in this whole travel mess is that when I see him tomorrow, I’ll have things to tell him that he won’t already know.”

  “You know, you guys seem pretty married for people who are about to get married.”

  “We get that a lot. But honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  “Even if it means he’s the only guy you’ll ever be with, your whole life?” Sandler shuffled the cards for a moment. “You can tell me if I’m being too personal, but I figure we’ve got hours locked in a train car, and what else are we going to do? If I had ended up married to the first guy I slept with, I wouldn’t be very happy right now.”