Have no idea why I wrote this or where it was going. Before I bury the aborted thing, I thought I’d post it here to you. I figure it was some kind of adventure story about a man and a woman who crash land on a tropical island. . . .
Every weekend Derik Levy took the same flight from LAX to NRT. Every Friday morning he put on the same grey DKNY suit and the same Nike cross-trainers which he switched for his grey Stacy Adams Madison boots when he landed at Narita Airport. He would collect his travel bag, kiss his wife and get into her Honda Civic because Stacy would want the Mercedes while he was gone. He’d drive it through the least packed drive-thru coffee bar before parking too far from the terminal and lugging one piece of luggage across the expanse that was the parking lot. Derik had done it every weekend, every year, for fifteen years and it felt like twice that. Over the past few years it had begun to chip away at his marriage, in fact, he had begun leaving the office early every day to spend time with Stacy, and it was making it that much harder to get everything done on his trips.
Derik sat back, closed his eyes, adjusted the seatbelt and breathed out. When he breathed back in, all those years and all those flights melted away. At first he thought it was lilacs, but as the smell passed deep into his lungs, it was wetter, like a damp bed of roses. He drew the scent in deeper, listening to a set of footfalls coming closer, realizing the smell that invigorated him was coming from a woman who would soon pass by him. Opening his eyes he barely caught her, a glimpse of soft tanned skin, soft summer dress she wore brushing his hand. As she walked to her seat farther up the plane he could only see her long legs, large wide brimmed sun hat covered her face and hair. He didn’t know which ethnicity she was but he knew those legs looked great. Although scarred in some places they had a soft bronze glow. They were the legs of a tomboy who had turned into a California beach princess. The smell still lingered but the moment had passed for Derik, he’d seen thousands of women like that in Tampa growing up and even more in the twenty years he’d lived in Beverley Hills, California. Still he watched her sit, watched those legs disappear and he struggled to get a glimpse of her face as she removed her hat and sat it in her lap. Her hair was thick and naturally dark, with natural blonde highlights, or probably not natural, Derik could never tell. No luck, so he closed his eyes again and smiled. At least now he’d have something to dream about as he slept through the flight.