Where's Margot? Part 3

Part 3/4, Ben hits the road and it's 1998, in case you miss the topical film reference.

With his backpack slung over his shoulders, Ben rushed out of his apartment into the misty November morning, smelling the thick air to make sure it was just fog and not a nearby fire that might disrupt his commute. Before hailing a taxi to get to Penn Station, he popped into the bodega. A kitten was yawning atop a stack of New York Times announcing something about the Persian Gulf. An old post announcing the summer release of Saving Private Ryan was peeling on the panel in front of the counter.

“Why’s this still here?” Ben asked.

“I think Matt Damon is a great actor,” Raul replied as he shrugged.

“Of course. Can you give me a muffin with my coffee? I forgot to do breakfast this morning and I gotta run to Pennsylvania,” Ben said.

“Yes, and take this with you. I’m tired of being your delivery man,” he said. He produced another brown envelope — like all the others — and Ben took it as he pulled out a twenty and slid it across the counter.

“Big spender,” Raul joked. He slid the change across and poured a small coffee and a chocolate muffin. “A muffin isn’t a real meal.”

“Don’t I know it. Thanks, Raul.” Ben dashed outside and hailed a taxi, hoping he’d make the train back home in time. He found one immediately and hopped in, hoping for a swift journey to Midtown.

Moments later, waiting in traffic, Ben fumed. The driver blamed the fog. Ben blamed poor decision making. Either way, he ended up jumping out of the cab at 30th Street and hustling with his backpack and coffee to Penn Station. Time was on his side until a woman with a large rucksack and a duffel bag bumped into him. He dropped the brown envelope and nearly spilled his coffee. She lost grip of her duffel back. As they bent down to collect their things from the street with flustered apologies, Ben saw the familiar waves of straight black hair and felt his face flush. 

Was this how they’d see each other again?

It made sense, of course.

Postcards from Bali, Las Vegas, Tunis, Sydney, and Lima had arrived in recent weeks, all with U.S. postage on them, making it clear that she wasn’t far. She collected them as part of her trickery. Processing stamps on the letter revealed she was in Pennsylvania, but wouldn’t say why. A phone call every few months revealed delayed travel plans, family issues that kept her grounded for another week, and other vague concerns that Margot quickly dismissed, focusing instead on Ben, his new teaching role, his students, his life. 

She hadn’t called since September, he just realized.

Had it really been two months?

He picked up the envelope and put it back under his arm.

When the woman stood up to look at him, an older face, much older than Margot, smiled and apologized again, walking away.

He felt foolish.

Duped.

She would have told him if she were in New York.

Why, though, would she not visit? Why did she avoid confirming when he offered to visit her wherever she was?

It’s not like he hadn’t thought about these things for the past few months, but obsessing over it now didn’t help. He rushed to the train and made it just in time, arriving at the suburban station in New Jersey where his grandmother awaited, driving him back home across the river to Pennsylvania, to the only real home he ever knew.

His grandfather had to wheel around oxygen and his grandmother really shouldn’t have been driving, but they were in high spirits to see him home. A few family friends and faces he knew gathered to celebrate his thirtieth birthday.

Thirty.

He and Margot used to count the rings on tree stumps at the local park and marvel at how old they were. They never imagined a world beyond childhood. At least he didn’t. Margot imagined more than a world. She conceived of — and entered — a new dimension of possibilities.

They had dinner and sang happy birthday. As he blew out the candles on his cake, Ben didn’t make a wish. He had his family. He had a job. He was happy. He wasn’t going to wish for Margot to return and waste his energy on things that wouldn’t come true. Instead, he’d continue saving his money and, perhaps next year, finally join her on one of her grand adventures.

He’d meet her on her turf finally.

He wanted to go wherever she was.

At least that was his plan.

He felt like his whole life was becoming the layover she promised him years ago, but he had no plane to catch. It was his job to fix that, just just didn’t want to do it alone.

Sitting on the couch while his grandfather rested in his armchair, Ben felt a presence next to him, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here,” his grandmother said.

“It’s OK. I never expected her to come home just for this,” he said.

“It might not help, but at least you have a friend like that. A friend that it hurts not to see,” she said.

“Did you have anyone like that?” he asked her, “I mean, besides grandpa?”

“Oh that old fart? He’s a different story. But yes, I did. Your mother and I, we were close. Not seeing her every day, well, listen, I understand.”

“I’m tired of missing people,” he said.

“Hate to say it, but that fatigue won’t ever go away. But that’s why you’re a good friend. You care.” She kissed him on the forehead.

It was then that Ben realized that, in fact, he didn’t have to miss Margot. Not fully, at least.

He ran back to his room and there, besides his backpack, he found the envelope with the priority postage on it. That was a first.  She had never sent two-day mail before. And there was a return address, but, oddly, not written in her handwriting. He tore into it and went downstairs, popping the tape, labeled Birthday Boy 1998, into the VHS player in the living room. His grandfather napped on the armchair while Ben glued his face to the TV and pressed play.

It was a different recording than she usually made. She was sitting at a desk, it seemed, wearing the brooch as usual, her hair shorter than in past videos. Bags under her eyes looked almost like movie makeup.

“Happy Birthday, babe. Sorry I couldn’t be there. Trust me, it’s not because I didn’t want to be. I’m on a really big trip here, seriously like, the trip of a lifetime. You wouldn’t believe it if I told you the details,” she said. It was strange to see her, thirty years old just last month, looking so much more like a woman than a child, wrinkles forming in places where youth had once dominated. The fatigue and loneliness of traveling, he was sure, had worn her down. She was pale.

“Instead of just telling you, hell, just go figure it out for yourself. It’s an easy riddle this time. You only go here for cheese fries if you’re wearing a cargoes. Go the day after your birthday, before 4PM. Ask for the owner.”

Ben scrambled for a pen in the drawer of an end table and found an old church bulletin where he scribbled the message.

“And Ben, this will probably be the last cassette table I’ll send, if that’s OK. Don’t worry, you’ll know why soon enough,” she said. “Love you, and, please, alw—.” The film fizzled and the VHS machine sounded like it was choking, silencing Margot as the screen became a blizzard of static again. 

“No!” Ben shouted. His grandfather sat up awake, asking what the matter was as Ben pulled the VHS out to find the film frayed and torn as the machine ate it up — a potential effect from having dropped it at the train station? He didn’t know. Nor did he know what her last words were on the tape. 

But it didn't matter.

His heart raced. 

She was coming back.

She was staying. 

She would be here finally. 

The excitement of it all left him dancing around the room as his grandfather settled back into his nap.

The riddle was an easy one. He knew that every random word was an anagram, and wearing a cargoes simply made no sense. He made quick work of it, and cargoes easily became corsage — and the only place they ever wore corsages while eating cheese fries was Sally’s Diner after their prom. Ben and Margot went together all those years ago and shared a plate of gooey curly fries and drank milkshakes while other teenagers drank cheap beer behind the Sudderland’s barn. They made a big deal about having matching corsages – tulips, like the ones in Amsterdam — very unlike the flowers other students wore. 

They were going to be reunited, finally, tomorrow by 4PM at the latest.

Ben could hardly believe it and felt the surge of springtime warmth — and was that hyacinth? — coursing through the air.