Late Arrival

Prologue

Lousy, lousy timing……… I wish we had met weeks before, but now work calls me. I have not dared to tell Cija of all the time I will be spending away, and very soon. Any other time I would give my all to this relationship, but now she will have to be content with whatever I can spare. She is getting under my skin and with this new promotion I can’t afford it, not for a while at least. I get out of the taxi in the snow, pulling
my collar up against the chill wind, and battle my way inside.

Again he is late returning from his business trip, and I have undergone a gamut of emotions – my messages to him have been in turn fond, pleading, angry and contrite. His brief and infrequent answers keep me on the edge of hope, and late at night I find myself out on the streets, walking in the cold wind, not able to sit quietly at home and wait. More than once he has given me a time for his return, only to change it, and yet another deadline has come and gone. My feet have brought me to his block of flats – I have only been here the once, but it feels familiar, and I cannot turn away from it. The wind blows colder, a few flakes of snow beginning to fall, and I find myself inside the lobby where it is warm. A couple stumble in from outside, close together, the girl giggling and pulling her partner along the corridor as he fumbles with a set of keys. I am standing by the lift and the doors open – an older man steps out, and presuming I am waiting, puts his hand against the doors to prevent them from closing, smiling and gesturing me inside.

What else can I do but smile my thanks and step inside, deciding that I will go to the top of the block and see the view, and then I can return home. Thankfully no one else gets in, but fate takes another hand and the lift stops on his floor to let a well dressed woman enter. I cannot resist getting out, and decide to walk to the end of the corridor past his door before returning and leaving the building. My fingers trace across his door as I pass, and I think of his fingers also on the door a week or so ago, locking up as you left. He has not yet given me a key, and I feel that I would not like to be in there alone anyway, surrounded by his things but not his presence. At the end of the corridor is a picture window, and I linger a while, looking out over the snow starting to settle on the quiet streets. I am not sure how long I stay like this, but am brought out of my reverie by the ‘ding’ sound of the lift arriving – I decide reluctantly to turn and take it back down to the lobby – I cannot explain my presence.

“Cija!” – I start at the sound of his voice as he steps out of the lift, bags in hand, wearing a suit and overcoat. Flakes of snow still cling to his clothes and sharply cut black hair but they are rapidly melting. My face breaks into a smile but I also feel tears prick my eyes, I walk unsteadily towards him and my throat closes around his name. He also is smiling, and he is wrestling his bags to his door, feeling in his pocket for keys, looking flustered. He gives up the search, putting his bags down, and I am in his arms; we are embracing fiercely. He swings me round, laughing

“How did you know, baby?” he asks, but I am squeezing my eyes to blink the tears away.
“Let me look at you” he says, putting me down and holding me at arm’s length, and his expression changes as you see my wet cheeks. “Hey, hey…. don’t cry, silly” he says with concern, and pulls me to him again “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get away” I am trying to stay in control, but sobs start to escape my lips as he hugs me close again, making soothing noises.