Near Love Stories
by J. B. Hogan

For lunch, Charles joined a handful of his new acquaintances - including a couple of girls who seemed to find him interesting and funny - for sandwiches and fries at a little café popular with students and younger faculty. The afternoon sessions were given over to short teaching forums and several pep talks delivered by the department head, a couple of profs, and three or four veteran TAs.

At day's end, reluctant to head straight back home, Charles hooked up with one of the friendlier girls, a pretty native named Eloisa from near Bayamon. They found a bar not far from campus, another student and younger faculty hangout, and had several drinks together. During the two hours or so they spent together at the bar - telling each other's autobiographies, future hopes, and fears about suddenly becoming teachers in just a couple of weeks - during this time Charles did not mention Maggie or his life with her.

Only a little over sixty miles from San Sebastian, yet nearly an hour and a half drive on the island's narrow little roads, the seemingly distant world of Inter-Caribbean made Charles feel like he was an entirely different person. A person unfettered and uninvolved, free to live as he pleased. When Eloisa had to leave about six, Charles said goodbye and, with her promise to get together when they started the fall semester echoing in his thoughts, drove back home in good spirits. He got back about seven-thirty and tried to call Maggie but she had gone out somewhere - probably with a girlfriend to a movie.

Just as well, he thought. He was a little tired from the trip and wanted to hang onto his good mood. He hated to admit it, but that might not have been possible if he had gotten together with Maggie. Settling in for the rest of the night instead, Charles made himself a big glass of coke with lots of ice and began to organize his belongings for the move to Inter-Caribbean.

*    *    *

An Eastern 1011 lumbered down the runway, straining to reach takeoff speed, then slowly, with surprising grace, lifted off into the bright Caribbean sky. Charles watched the jet as it climbed over the blue-green bay beyond the airport and began to turn in a slow curve to the left, away from the island, away from Boca Tierra. He took an unsatisfying drag on his cigarette and sighed. When he brought his attention back to the inside of the airport, Maggie was beside him.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered.

They stood side by side in the waiting room near Gate 12B, not touching.

"Maggie," Charles said, pitching his half finished cigarette into a nearby ashtray, "won't you reconsider?" Maggie looked at him with something like surprise.

"No, Charles, not now."

"I'm going to fly over as soon as possible," he said, knowing he never would.

"As you wish," Maggie replied, vaguely complicit in the pretense.

"Maggie," Charles said, wearied by her unbending resolution.

"There's nothing more to say," Maggie said impassively.

"I still love you," Charles said, not sure if he really did.

Maggie looked away from him. The passengers nearest to them were beginning to move towards the gate. Maggie clutched her lone carry-on bag to her side and took out her ticket.

"I do," Charles insisted. Maggie's flight was announced.