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Linda almost tries to disguise her smile. Then, remembering who she is, she lets her face light up with unabashed joy.
“My boyfriend’s picking me up.” She brags to the woman standing closest to her at baggage claim. “His name is Bob, and he has a mustache, and we’ve been together for nine months.”
The woman smiles, a little put off by her enthusiasm. Once Linda grabs her suitcase, she waves wildly.
“I’m gonna go see him now! Bye! Have fun doing airport stuff!”
She practically floats through the crowded building. Travelers are packed like sardines on the escalator, but Linda is perfectly carefree. Shoving her way through a family in matching vacation shirts, she makes it through the doors that’ll take her outside.
To Bob. God, she’s missed him. When she was in her parents' spare bedroom each night, cramped in the too small space, she actually found herself wishing her boyfriend was there.
She scans the various cars outside her terminal, looking for Bob’s ancient sedan. Not Bobby. Not Bobby. Not Bobby. When she finally sees him, Linda’s heart slams ecstatically into her chest. He smiles timidly from the driver’s seat, almost shy. He shoots her a wave.
“Bobby!” She calls, unable to stop herself from crying out before the door is open.
Her voice must be muffled, but she watches his smile get brighter as she approaches. He pops the trunk and opens the car door. Linda throws herself against him before he’s even steady on his feet.
“Bob! Hi! Hi. How are you?”
Before he can respond, she’s unleashing more questions. In her week without him, Linda’s been like a corked bottle. With Bob in front of her, she pops. Every tidbit she wanted to share with him floods from her mouth at full speed, each new question clamoring to be the first.
“Did you not shave? Are you growing a beard? Aww, you would look so cute with a beard! My sexy pirate.”
Bob’s smile drops then comes back, like the cogs in his brain take a second to catch up with her rambling.
“Uh…no, Lin. No beard. I think I just forgot to shave.”
It doesn’t take a genius to guess why. Since last Friday, Bob’s had no one to squeal about scratchy stubble each time he kisses her.
“How was Florida?” He asks, putting her suitcase in the trunk.
Linda rewards the act of chivalry with a kiss to his cheek. It does scratch, but she’s too happy to care.
“Horrible!” She says cheerfully. “Oh, it was just awful. I thought about you the whole time.”
She’d felt like a moony teenager, but the distance between them created a crevice in her stomach. It wasn’t there at first, but by the end of the week it gaped like a bullet wound.
“So did I.” He admits. “I’m really, really glad you’re home.”
Linda can’t help herself. Before they get into the car, she grabs his face for a kiss. Bob deepens it, which is how she knows he really missed her. He hates PDA.
As soon as they break apart, gravity throws them right back together again. This time it’s a hug, Bob’s hands on her waist and hers thrown around his neck.
It’s not until she’s sitting, a seatbelt strapping her down, that she realizes none of her bubbly energy has subsided. It still flickers inside her, making staying still a miserable chore.
“Was it really that bad?” Bob asks. “Wait, don’t answer that. It definitely was.”
The bad stuff isn’t what Linda wants to discuss. Later, sure, but she’s also kept a running list in her head of fun to share with him. When something makes her happy, or excited, she wants to impart the same onto Bob.
“I saw an alligator!” She says, sidestepping the question. “Thought he was gonna eat me for dinner. Oh, and birds! Lots and lots of birds.”
Bob chuckles. He laughs at her in a fond, I-want-to-laugh-at-you-forever-way. The difference between this and her mother’s real, biting criticism makes her even happier to be away from Florida.
“Birds? I saw a bird, too. A cardinal. It made me think of you. Sorry. Is that dumb?”
All of the love in Linda’s chest is welling up. It sits like a boulder, and she thinks it might burst right out of her body.
“It’s not dumb! It’s romantic. I thought about you when I saw the alligator, because his face was all dirty. Like you when you eat spaghetti! Ha!”
“Uh…thanks, Lin. I think. Do you want to stop for dinner on the way home?”
Linda’s stomach growls, but other urges surpass her hunger. The biscotti she ate on the plane will have to hold her over.
“Stop?” She asks. “No way, Bobby. I wanna get home! We need to…you know. Reignite the passion.”
She bats her eyes, trying to be sensual, but Bob looks vaguely amused when her hand rests against his thigh.
“Already? I thought the plane ride would’ve turned you off.”
Linda shakes her head. She sat between an elderly woman and a snoring man, but she still thought of Bob when she wasn’t drifting off to sleep.
“Are you kidding me? We’ve been apart for a week, Bobby. Nothing could turn me off.”
When Linda hit her late twenties, she feared she was losing her sex drive. When she met Bob, that fear vanished entirely. She’d forgotten how crazy love made her feel.
“Don’t tell me that,” he says warily “because you’ll convince me to take the next exit.”
Linda eyes him, trying to determine his sincerity. If he’s willing, then she certainly is.
She shrugs. Historically, over the course of the relationship, she’s been the one to make them impulsive. When they’re out of their comfort zones, it’s because she’s dragged Bob kicking and screaming.
“Only if you wanna.” She says.
Linda knows that Bob wants her-in an all-in sense, even when things are boring. But she also likes when he takes charge, throws caution to the wind to want her in an animalistic way.
When he pulls off at the next exit, the one with the sign advertising two fast food joints and a coffee shop, Linda’s heart skips a few beats.
“You really did miss me.” She says. “You think anyone’ll catch us, if we find an empty parking lot?”
Bob’s eyes are locked on the road ahead of him. Linda thinks getting caught would be fun, sexy even, but she knows he sees it differently.
“I…really hope not.” He admits. “But I did miss you, Lin. A lot."
Despite the nervousness on his face, she believes him. In fact, she’s never doubted a man less.