Southwest (Weird Hemingway)
I got in the Lyft, which I took because I was running late of course, and the driver asked me what airline and I said “Southwest.”
“They don’t fly out of Ohare” he said.
“Do you mean O’Hare?” I asked.
And he said “yeah, jerk” and I said “sorry, thanks for saving me, I would like to go to Midway because that is where my flight is” and then he put his hand on my knee and said “we are all of us brothers” and I said “you’re a Wallace fan” and he said “indeed” and I said “would love to get to know you better” and he said “just enjoy the moment” and I said “OK.”
Kelly was there, at the café on the bay where the boats were docked and the breeze was cool, smoking a cigarette and listening to my story.
She took a drag from her cigarette and said “you sat in the front seat of the Lyft? Or he’s reaching around with his hand on your knee?”
“He reached into the back seat. He had very long arms, like a basketball player or a man with very long arms.”
“Did you get his number, for me?” she asked. She was always trying to get guys’ numbers or maybe that was a joke, but the jet lag was kicking in and I couldn’t tell.
I told her the truth. I asked the driver and he said “I like the sound of her, Kelly did you say her name was?” And I said “yes, my friend’s name is Kelly, I think you would like her, would you like to meet her some day when I return from my travels?”
And he said “Sunday? And I said “some day, I said some day” and he said “oh, I thought you said Sunday, which would not work for me because I am going to be on my boat that day, I am a fisherman, but it is a moot point because you did not say Sunday” and I said “yes” and he fell silent for a while.
We drove for some time and listened to the wind.
“So would you like to meet her?”
“I will find her” he said.
“OK.”
We fell silent again and the wind was cool against our faces and we felt full in our hearts.