tell me about it

Valentine Vignettes, Part the Second.

“I’m waiting for Jamie,” he tells his mother authoritatively. “We’ll get on the schoolbus together.”

She grins at him affectionately and ruffles his hair. He’s all zipped and cinched into his new blue jacket, schoolbag tight on his small shoulders. It’s their first day of school and nothing will do but for the two playmates to go together.

“All right then,” she says agreeably, and kisses her little boy before she leaves. She turns only once, to check on him, and smiles. His feet barely touch the ground; he’s swinging them while he sits at the bus-stop, waiting for Jamie.

*

“No thanks,” he says, and his voice is gentle but resolute. “I’m waiting for Jamie.” Liz pouts, fluttering her eyelashes to great effect. He looks away in a forced display of casualness.

She breathes huffily. “Forget it then,” she shrugs, and flounces off. He heaves a sigh of relief. There’s no one else he’d rather go home with but the girl who lives on his street, so he leans against his locker and waits for Jamie.

*

“He’s waiting for Jamie,” his mother whispers. She can’t stop herself from tearing. Even his father clears his throat gruffly, watching their son up front at the altar. He’s dapper in his black suit, eyes full of hope and tenderness and love. His smile is tentative and nervous as he surveys a church full of friends, family, and neighbors.

But as the organ starts to play and the pastor looks on benevolently, he straightens up, squares his shoulders and looks toward the back of the church. He holds his breath, and waits for Jamie.

*

He paces up and down the narrow hospital corridor. “I’m still waiting for Jamie,” he growls hoarsely into the phone, then flips it closed and resumes pacing grimly. He’d hopped on the first flight back home from his business trip when his mother had called with the news that Jamie had gone into labor. He’s disheveled, weary, and waiting.

Suddenly the doors swing open and a nurse waves him into the delivery room. She smiles widely - “Congratulations, it’s a girl!” - but he doesn’t look at the baby just yet, and rushes to his wife’s side.

“She’ll never forgive me if I see the baby before she does,” he laughs. He waits for Jamie before he takes their daughter into his loving arms.

*

He’s lying in bed, and his breath comes thin and weak. “He’s waiting for Jamie,” they whisper. Then the daughter he named after the love of his life comes flying through the door, and they all nod and smile with relief.

“Dad, I’m here,” she chokes out. She takes his fragile, papery hand, stroking it and willing health back into his pale cheeks. The corners of his lips turn upwards and recognition lights in his eyes.

“Hey kid,” he says, heaving with the effort of the simple words. “Don’t worry about me. I’m gonna be with your mother again.”

She nods blindly, tears obscuring her vision. She can’t speak as his grip slowly weakens. His rheumy eyes close, and he says his last words with a small smile.

“Jamie’s waiting for me.”

-copyright by J. Pan

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