The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight(44)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith

“I met this guy on the plane.”

Mom laughs. “Now we’re talking.”

“I went to go find him, but it was sort of a disaster, and now I’ll never see him again.”

There’s silence on the other end, and then Mom’s voice comes back a bit softer. “You never know,” she says. “Look at me and Harrison. Look what a hard time I’ve given him. But no matter how many times I’ve pushed him away, he always comes back around again. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“This is a little bit different.”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.”

“Which is tomorrow.”

“Right,” she says. “Harrison and I will meet you at the baggage claim.”

“Like a lost sock.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom jokes. “You’re more like a whole suitcase. And you’re not lost.”

Hadley’s voice is very small. “What if I am?”

“Then it’s just a matter of time before you get found.”

The phone beeps twice, and she holds it away from her ear for a moment. “I’m about to run out of batteries,” she says when she brings it back.

“You or your phone?”

“Both. So what are you doing without me tonight?”

“Harrison wants to take me to some silly baseball game. He’s been buzzing about it all week.”

Hadley sits up straighter. “Mom, he’s gonna ask you to marry him again.”

“What? No.”

“Yeah, he totally is. I bet he’ll even put it up on the scoreboard or something.”

Mom groans. “No way. He’d never do that.”

“Yeah, he would,” Hadley says, laughing. “That’s exactly the sort of thing he’d do.”

They’re both giggling now, neither of them able to complete a sentence between fits of laughter, and Hadley gives herself over to it, blinking back tears. It feels wonderful, this letting go; after a day like this, she’s grateful for any excuse to laugh.

“Is there anything cheesier?” Mom asks finally, catching her breath.

“Definitely not,” Hadley says, then pauses. “But Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should say yes.”

“What?” Mom says, her voice a few octaves too high. “What happened? You go to one wedding and all of a sudden you’re Cupid?”

“He loves you,” Hadley says simply. “And you love him.”

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that.”

“It’s not, actually. All you have to do is say yes.”

“And then live happily ever after?”

Hadley smiles. “Something like that.”

The phone beeps again, this time more urgently.

“We’re almost out of time,” she says, and Mom laughs again, but this time, there’s something weary about it.

“Is that a hint?”

“If it will help convince you to do the right thing.”

“When did you get so grown-up?”

Hadley shrugs. “You and Dad must have done a good job.”

“I love you,” Mom says quietly.

“I love you, too,” Hadley says, and then, almost as if they’d planned it, the line goes dead. She sits there like that for another minute or so, and then lowers the phone and stares out at the row of stone houses across the road.

As she watches, a light goes on in one of the upstairs windows, and she can see the silhouette of a man tucking his son into bed, pulling up the covers and then leaning to kiss him on the forehead. Just before leaving the room, the man moves his hand to the wall to flick the light switch, and the room goes dark again. Hadley thinks of Oliver’s story and wonders if this boy might need a night-light, too, or whether the good-night kiss from his father is enough to send him off into sleep, a sleep without bad dreams or nightmares, without monsters or ghosts.

She’s still watching the darkened window, gazing at the little house in a row of many, past the glowing streetlamps and the rain-dusted mailboxes, past the horseshoe of a driveway leading up to the hotel, when her own sort of ghost appears.

She’s as surprised to see him as he must have been when she showed up at the church earlier, and something about his sudden and unexpected arrival throws her off-balance, sets her stomach churning, takes what little composure she has left and shatters it completely. He approaches slowly, his dark suit nearly lost to the surrounding shadows until he steps into the pool of light cast by the hotel lanterns.

“Hi,” he says when he’s close enough, and for the second time this evening, Hadley begins to cry.

18

6:24 PM Eastern Standard Time

11:24 PM Greenwich Mean Time

A man walks up with his hat in his hands. A woman walks up in a pair of outrageously tall boots. A young boy walks up with a handheld video game. A mother with a crying baby. A man with a mustache like a broom. An elderly couple with matching sweaters. A boy in a blue shirt with not a single crumb from a doughnut.

There are so many ways it could all have turned out differently.

Imagine if it had been someone else, Hadley is thinking, her heart rattling at the idea of it.

But here they are:

A boy walks up with a book in his hands.

A boy walks up with a crooked tie.

A boy walks up and sits down beside her.

There’s a star in the sky that refuses to stay put, and Hadley realizes it’s actually a plane, that just last night, that star was them.

Neither of them speaks at first. Oliver sits a few inches away, looking straight ahead as he waits for her to finish crying, and for that alone Hadley is grateful, because it feels like a kind of understanding.

“I think you forgot something,” he says eventually, tapping the book in his lap. When she doesn’t respond, only wipes her eyes and sniffles, he finally turns to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t believe how many times I’ve cried today.”

“Me, too,” he says, and she feels immediately awful, because of course he has more right to cry than anyone.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“Well, it’s not like we had no warning,” he says with a little smile. “Everyone’s always telling you to bring a handkerchief to weddings and funerals.”

In spite of herself, Hadley laughs. “I’m pretty sure nobody has ever suggested a handkerchief to me in my life,” she says. “Kleenex, maybe.”