Homecoming

She had been sick the whole way down. Stomach churning, she had wanted to vomit. The whole bus ride, she was scared to death that she wouldn’t make it back to him. She arrived at the station intact, and waited to exit the vehicle, retrieve her bag, and make her way inside the station to where he was certainly was waiting for her.

Bouncing on her toes, drumming her fingers on the top of each seat that she passed, the walk down the bus isle seemed like eternity. It took these people ages to get off of the bus. When she finally got her bag, she walked up the steps to the glass door, and looked inside.

He wasn’t there.

Her heart sank. She walked inside, looked around the corner. Not there. She described him to the ticket seller.

“No man like that’s been in here, ma’am. Sorry.”

She nodded, tears starting to fall. What if he got in an accident on the way? What if he broke down on the highway? Was he hurt, dead?

What if he forgot?

Tears stung her eyes as she whirled around, looking for him.

But she was determined to be patient. She would sit down. He was coming. He would be there. It was just a matter of time before he arrived.

Oh, she had missed him. He who had been gone from her for months.

"Lovely wasn’t so bad," she thought. "I dropped my bags at her place, and hugged her."
“'D’ja miss me?'” she asked me.
“'Course. We’re still cool, right?'” I asked.
A smile bloomed on her face. and a little laugh. "Then she shoved cake up my nose. That dirty rat-bastard. I’ll get her."

She knew that her best friend still loved her. They had seen each other over Columbus Day. But him...Four months is a long time to be away from a lover. A friend. She wondered if he still wanted her. If he still loved her after so much had changed. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She heard the welcome bell on the door ding. A happy tune that did not elevate her mood. She looked up expectantly.

A couple. Buying a ticket to Connecticut.

She sighed, and hung her head. Staring at the floor, waiting for him. Waiting. She couldn’t stand it. Called his cell phone.

Straight to voicemail.

"Idiot. He always leaves it off."

She looked at the clock. Eight-oh-seven. Rifling through her bag, she found a book, and tried to read. After the first page, she had taken in none of it, and abandoned the attempt.

She looked at the clock. Eight-oh-nine. She was never going to be able to make it. She would go crazy. She would—

“Rose?”

Lifting her head, she saw the same man she’d left. She saw the eyes, and the jaw. The smooth cheeks — he’d shaved — and his smile. She leapt out of the chair, and jumped into his arms. He hugged her as tight as he could, and she exhaled with a cough. He released her, and put his hands on her soft face.

Forehead to forehead, she asked, “Do you still love me?”

He didn’t speak, and a tear fell down her cheek. She knew, everything.

“I missed you. Terribly.”

She let out a sob. "It’s so good to be home."