The third woman was from Hungary. Her name was Marika Darabos, and she also seemed tall, but her hair was a sun-spun white-blonde, the color which Hollywood starlets spent thousands of dollars to achieve. At first, Jon was reminded of his Helga/Olga dream when he saw her flaxen, straight mane. He laughed to himself. The photo was not of very good quality, but if Jon strained his eyes to zoom in on the grainy picture, he could see full lips and light colored eyes. She was very attractive from what he could glean, but it wasn’t simply her prettiness which captivated his attention; in their email exchange, she asked him questions about himself, his likes, his family. She broached the subject of career once, but when Jon looked back on the correspondences, he realized that he had brought it up first. And he found that he did look back on their messages often. They often conversed in live time but Budapest was seven hours ahead so often by the early afternoon, Marika had signed off for the night, and Jon was left pining for her sweet banter. She had an unassuming quality about her, but the cynic in Jon reminded himself that anyone could portray themselves any way they pleased online. It would not be the first time he had been misled by a beautiful woman. He reasoned that he could not possibly have a sense for what kind of woman Marika while she was overseas. Hell, I probably won’t have a good sense for her while she’s staring me in the face. Still, the dark thoughts did not deter him from becoming intrigued by the slender blonde. Jon had been hoping to spend some time with her via Skype, but she claimed that she did not have a web camera as her computer was outdated. Immediately, he got online and ordered her a top of the line Mac Pro.
“I don’t mean to seem forward but may I have your address?” he emailed that night as the Amazon screen sat open in the next window.
“I have a gift for you.” He was still awake at 2 a.m. when she replied.
“I appreciate your kind thinking, but the only gift I wish is to come and meeting with you in America.”
Puzzled, Jon reread the text, wondering if she had misunderstood his intentions. He tried to explain, thinking Marika had lost something in the translation.
“Of course, you will come and meet with me one day soon,” he wrote. “But I would like to send you a gift before that happens. I have purchased a new computer for you so that we can communicate on Skype. I would like you to have a functional computer.”
Immediately, she responded.
“You are very kind. I would prefer to having airplane ticket. I can leaving tomorrow.” Jon was stunned by the sheer brazenness of her demand, but deep within himself, he was pleased. He understood that her desire to come was not based on her interest in him but rather in something self-serving although what it was precisely, Jon could not determine. She had not asked for money or seemed overly interested in how much he made. On the contrary, in fact. He had asked about her family, wondering if perhaps she had members in America already, but she claimed she did not. Hungary is nowhere the impoverished Iron Curtain country it once was. I wonder why she is in such a rush to leave her homeland. Do people still covet green cards these days? But he did not push the issue. He was worried that the answer would leave him disappointed and he much preferred to indulge in the romantic fantasy that Marika might possibly find him appealing and wish to meet him.
His hands paused over the keyboard, he chose his next thoughts carefully before he began to type.
“Send me your full name. I will book the first ticket out in the morning.”
Chapter Three
Jon shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, craning his neck over the half dozen people in front of him even though he towered over everyone. He was merely antsy and looking for something to do in his anxiousness. He had been over an hour early waiting for Marika’s flight, and he was the picture of impatience by the time the delayed aircraft had landed. He felt sweat building under his arms as the passengers began to disembark, some of them into the waiting arms of loved ones while others scurried past, clearly late for some important meeting. The rush of people slowed to a trickle and Jon was aware that his brow was beaded in water as his heart rate increased in anticipation. Did I miss her? Maybe she didn’t recognize me and walked right by? But Jon was certain that no one even remotely resembling Marika’s picture had sauntered through the terminal. He started to wonder if he had been conned. Have I been catfished or bait and switched? What if her profile picture really wasn’t of her? Maybe she is really a seventy-year-old man! He was the last person in wait now, the remaining passengers seemingly off the plane. He stood, feeling stupid as the sliding doors from customs remained closed. Please, please come out, he silently begged, but his heart began to sink as he realized he had been taken yet again. When will you ever learn, you fool? It had been fifteen minutes since the last person had walked out the doors and Jon knew he looked conspicuous standing there alone. A security guard for the airline eyed him as he walked by for a second time.
“Are you expecting someone, sir?” he asked, pausing in front of Jon’s chubby form. For a fleeting moment, Jon’s hopes soared. Maybe this man can help me! Maybe she just missed her flight!
“Yes. Her name is Marika Darabos. Could you check if she missed her flight for me?” But the tiny man shook his head ruefully.
“I doubt it, sir. This flight was completely full. There were no standby seats available. I know because my sister wanted on this flight.” Jon nodded and choked out a thanks to him. Shoulders sagging, he glanced one last time at the frosted sliding doors. When the remained firmly closed, he turned away, dejected and depressed.
That means she came, took one look at me and fled. I am destined to be alone. I can’t even buy love, he told himself mournfully. His phone was buzzing in his pocket, and a surge of excitement flowed through him. He had given Marika his number, but as he glanced at the screen, he saw it was Tristan phoning. His impulse was to let the call go to voicemail, but he knew that his sister was concerned about him. You are the older sibling. Don’t let Tristan worry about you. Answer the phone and act normal.
“Hey sis,” he answered with forced cheer. “How are you feeling? Puking up a storm yet?”
“Good, Jon. No morning sickness so far. How are you doing?” Jon shrugged at the question and blinked, swallowing the bitterness in his throat as he pushed out of the terminal into the cold. He paused, momentarily confused as to where he had parked. His head was a jumbled mess.
“I’m great, Tris. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to call and say hi.” There was a slight pause before she continued. “I wanted to apologize for Jordan on Christmas day.”
“For what?” Jon was perplexed.
“What he said about you finding someone. Don’t listen to him. He comes across as an ass, but we just want you to be happy, Jon. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I didn’t take it any other way,” Jon assured her, trying to keep a cheerful note in his words. The roar of an airplane above his head kept him from hearing what Tristan said next.
“Sorry, what? I didn’t hear you,” he told her.
“Where are you? What’s that noise?” she asked.
“At the airport,” Jon replied without thinking. He cringed as the words left his lips.
“Are you away on business?” Tristan questioned, sounding surprised. Jon seized the opportunity.
“Yes! I am!” he chortled, ecstatic that she had given him an out. If the family believed him to be away on business, they wouldn’t bother him for a few days. The thought was nothing short of glorious.
“Oh, I didn’t know. I’ll let you go. Call me when you’re back in Connecticut,” Tristan told him.
“Okay, sis. Give my niece or nephew to be some ice cream and Addy a kiss for me.”
“Okay, Jon. Hey Jon?”
Someone was tapping on his shoulder, and Jon held up a hand as another aircraft flew overhead, again blocking Tristan’s voice.
“What? Tris?”
“Excuse me…” there was another tap on his shoulder, and Jon
whirled, annoyed to face the intrusion. His jaw dropped as he saw the woman who was demanding his attention. Her long blonde hair was cut stylishly short and rested just above her shoulders, a flattering contrast to her tight, black sweater. Her brow was furrowed, but it did not distract from a set of clear sea green eyes and her wide mouth was puckered into a fine line. As Jon’s eyes traveled down the woman’s shapely bosom, to her curvy waist, he realized she was modelesque, at least five ten without an ounce of fat on her stunning body. Her jeans and sweater were high quality and obviously pricey, but Jon did not recognize the brands.
“I gotta go.” Jon hung up the phone and stared at Marika, his pulse racing. His mouth did not seem to know which direction to take, going through a variety of movement and finally settling on a weak smile.
“I am very sorry to bothering you, sir but I thinking you are Jon?” Her thick accent flowed musically into his ears, and he found himself nodding vigorously. Awkwardly, he leaned forward to embrace her in a hug. She seemed taken aback by his gesture and impulsively stepped out of his grasp. Horribly embarrassed, Jon let his arms drop, a deep flush washing over his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, stepping back but her expression seemed to mask his as she quickly jumped forward again. They seemed to be trapped in an uncomfortable dance. Jon realized that anyone watching them would think they were idiots.
“No! It is I who am sorry!” she declared, throwing her arms around the hefty man. “I was…how do you saying…surprised? I am Marika. I am happy to knowing you, Jon.” They shared a gentle hug and departed, each one sizing up the other for the first time as new friends. Jon looked around and saw she did not have any luggage.
“Where are your bags?” he asked. Marika shook her head ruefully.
“The airline has losing them,” she told him. “It is why I am late. I am sorry you were to waiting.”
Jon shook his head, relieved that the explanation for her tardiness was simple.
“We will locate your luggage,” he assured her. “But we can do that later. You must be exhausted from your trip. Let’s get you home. I can stop somewhere on the way to pick you up a change of clothing and some toiletries in the meantime.” Marika nodded, but Jon had the sense that she did not understand half of what he said. It doesn’t matter, he thought. It will take some time to get through the language barrier. I will pick up some Hungarian to help her along.
After some investigation, Jon finally located his Ford Escape in an obscure parking garage which he did not remember leaving his car.
“It never fails,” he told Marika as he held open the passenger side for his lovely companion. “Airport parking lots are designed to make you forget where you park. I think they unleash something into the air, so you purposely leave it longer than you intend.”
Marika smiled, but again, Jon realized that she did not comprehend what he was saying. He silently vowed to speak more slowly and use smaller words. He backed out of the spot and glanced furtively at Marika. He couldn’t help but notice the slightly tense look on her face. Of course she looks stressed. This is completely new to her. She is in a strange land with a strange man. I have to do everything I can to make this transition smooth and comfortable for her. She caught his stare and offered him a smile. The gentle upward curl of her sultry mouth sent flutters through Jon. She is much more beautiful than I expected. Her picture did not do her justice. In fact, she doesn’t resemble her picture very much at all. She is gorgeous! He remembered his earlier fears that she was an old man and grinned to himself. Beside him, the lovely woman turned to watch the scenery outside the window. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as she willed herself to breathe. He seems like a nice man, she told herself. I did the right thing by coming here. Maybe he will be an ally in all this. I hope it doesn’t blow up in my face.
They made a stop at Westfarms Mall on the way back to Jon’s apartment, and despite Marika’s protests, Jon purchased almost an entire wardrobe for her from various stores. Inside Ambercrombie and Fitch, the fourth apparel place they visited, Marika finally threw up her hands in exasperation.
“I am not needing for all this!” she declared as Jon pulled another pair of size two jeans off the rack. He was surprised by her protests. As the hours whizzed past, he was already getting a feel for her low-maintenance personality. She was nothing like the woman he had been expecting. She was seemingly uncomfortable by Jon’s spending.
“You have no idea how long it can take for an airline to locate your luggage,” Jon replied calmly. “It is better that you have too much than not enough.”
“It is too much!” she insisted. “No more, please, Jon. You have already do enough for me.”
Jon arched an eyebrow at the statement. What have I done for you? He wondered. Aside from buying her ticket, there was nothing that she had asked for, and Jon thought of the other women with whom he had briefly exchanged messages. He was sure that either one of them would not have argued the shopping spree. More likely that they would have maxed out my platinum cards, Jon thought wryly, but he reluctantly agreed to stop purchasing clothing.
“We need to make a quick stop at CVS for toiletries,” he told her. Her puzzled expression told him she did not understand the word. Jon made a brushing motion with his finger.
“A toothbrush? Maybe a hairbrush? If you want, we can get makeup,” he told her, but he had already learned by studying her face, that she was a natural beauty. He was captivated by her fair beauty. She seemed to radiate a glow of confidence and innocence simultaneously. He could not pinpoint what it was precisely about Marika but staring at her lovely profile from his peripheral vision, a sense of calm and peace stole over him. She is almost otherworldly. She has a spiritual quality about her, Jon thought, watching her expressions in fascination. He had never been in the presence of anyone so captivating. She nodded somewhat uncertainly, not wanting him to spend more money but knowing she needed personal items. He had no way of knowing that her luggage had not been mixed up in some in-flight mishap. She had left home with the clothing on her back in the middle of the night, but property had hardly been her concern at that time. Initially, she had intended to take the ticket, landing at Bradley International Airport without ever meeting Jon just as he had feared. From the airport, she was sure she could find her way to New York City as had been her plan along. She had waited behind the frosted sliding doors in the terminal, watching as he stood, eagerly awaiting her arrival. She found herself becoming antsy as he refused to move from his spot as if he were a tree rooted in place. Give up and go home, she thought with some annoyance. You can find yourself another desperate European bride. She felt contempt toward him at first, irritated by his need to recruit an unsuspecting woman from overseas. Why can’t he find himself an American woman? Are they all disgusted with him? As the crowd thinned, he remained there, a hopeful expression on his face and while he could not see her, she could slowly see the optimism fade from his dark eyes when she did not materialize. Guilt began to overtake her anger with this man as minutes passed yet Jon did not falter, his neck still straining to look beyond the doors, confusion overcoming his face. A stab of shame pierced her heart. You cannot do this to him, she told herself. She had been expecting a pervert, someone leering and aggressive but she sensed a gentleness about this man, a deep loneliness and she had an almost psychic affinity toward him. She recognized something of herself in him, despite their physical differences. It was as though something in his soul was reaching out calling to her. She felt momentarily lost, weighing her options in her own mind. Sighing, she decided that she would minimally introduce herself to him. You have nowhere else to go and no money. If he ends up being more than a gentleman, you can simply leave, she told herself, making the decision. Another voice in her head laughed at her. Oh? Is it that simple? But she silenced the thought and stepped forward, activating the double doors with thigh high boots. To her surprise and somewhat distress, Jon was no longer standing there in wait. She looked around, almost frantically
. Which way did he go? I waited too long! Out of the corner of her seawater eyes, she watched him slowly ambling toward the exit, his ear pressed to his iPhone. He was out of earshot, but she could see his lips moving in conversation. The stunning blonde waited for a moment, questioning her next move before briskly walking after him, the expensive leather of her boot stiletto tapping against the tile floor. She made her way into the cold, winter sunlight and almost smiled. People scurried through the drop off zone, shivering and wrapping their arms about themselves. You people have no idea what cold feels like, she thought, relishing the crisp air against her face. It reminded her of home and for a strange moment, she felt a stab of nostalgia, longing for the little village in which she had been raised. She shook her head to clear her head, and she stood, watching Jon as he spoke into his cell phone. She caught bits and pieces of his conversation and heard the forced cheer in his voice, but his face told a different story. She found her heart sink as she realized that she had caused this man hurt. You owe it to him to introduce yourself. He has done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment from you. The tall woman moved forward before she could change her mind. It was then that she tapped him on the arm.
“Marika? Marika!” Jon’s voice shattered her reverie, and she turned to look at the man. He had pulled into the parking lot of the drug store and was expectantly waiting for her to undo her seatbelt.
“Are you all right?” he asked with some concern. She is having regrets about being here already, Jon thought as he looked into her bright, wise irises. I am coming on too strong. I am scaring her off. I should have listened to her when she said she didn’t want me to spend any more money. Some women get turned off when men do that. I have to tone it down. I hope I didn’t screw it up already.
The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance Page 46