Smart

THE WEIGH U R

 

She's a honey, my Bunny! I love her, adore her, can barely stand the wait for Harvard's spring break. I feel the cold February wind flowing thru my nylon jacket as snow beings to fall and forgets to stop. It covers the campus, the Quad, the city and worst of all, the airports.

 

My fingers fly over my puter keyboard. Emails somehow manage to find their way around the world in seconds while I am stuck here, wasting at least three days of cuddling Bunny in Maryland's unusual idyllic 80 degrees. She calls me. I call her. Our parents will have no trouble understanding why their February bills skyrocketed. Bunny's parents may just lay the cost on her while mine will be happy the lines weren't
crippled.      

 

My room mate, Morty and I, manage to study an hour or so a day and get together with other stranded brothers for poker games, a few Heineken. Christine, one of the ten female students in my final year, joins us in poker, watching t.v. She outlaws 'strip' but shakes her booty when 'Dancing With the Stars' comes on. Her aptitude excites my buddies, and to be honest, I'm not made of stone. Chrissie realizes she has gone a bit too far, snaps off the t.v. Loud 'Aws' fill the game room. We go back and concentrate on the cards in front of us.

 

By morning two, the campus roads and walkways are clear. The beautiful snowy white ground is mostly brown. Boston barely moves. United and all the airlines have been grounded. Plane service is expected to start tomorrow but that doesn't mean my seat will be waiting for me. All cancelled flights have to get back in line. The sky is going to wear polka dots for days.

 

Bunny tells me how much she misses me and about her social life while she pines. There have been a few banquets, luncheons at her parents'
 country club. Girl friends are going steady. Liz got engaged. Kathleen and Barbara had big, gorgeous weddings. The fabulous meals were too tempting to pass up. She adds softly. 'I've gained a few pounds. When you finally get here, let's live on salads!' 'Bunny, Bunny, I wail. I'd love you if you'd blow up and look like Rosie O'Donnel. I'm going to try to get to the airport in the morning. If I do, I'll stay until I get on my plane. I'll call you from the airport. So Long, Honey Bunny.'

 

The night is 24 hours long. I am at the airport by 6 a.m. along with thousands of anxious ticket holders. I stop for  at the Bagel Counter for a straight coffee and raisin bagel and hear my flight called. I leave my breakfast on the table and hurry to my gate. Flight 206 is boarding and my seat is empty. Everyone is either excited or worn out. The last passenger is an elderly lady, well into her eighties. She is carrying a computer, a knitting bag with no visible needles and her lunch that is in a ribbon bedecked colorful bag from Sports World. No choice, I must stand to let her into the middle seat. A fat man, really obese man, was already overflowing his window seat. His body leaks on the old lady. She starts to squiggle, pushes her frail body against me. All three of us are uncomfortable, don't even speak.

 

At last the jets roar and we slowly, very slowly, get in line to take off. There is a thirty minute torturous wait. Varoom, we are airborn.  Below the country side is still frozen white. By the time we cross the PA and MD border green is peeking thru, boats are sailing on the Chesapeake.
My heart is warming up. Except for the definite body odor of the fat man near the window reaching my nose, the flight is not one I want to cherish.

 

There she is, my Bunny, pacing, waiting for me at the luggage pick up area. She is wearing a new spring loose fitting coat. I grab her, lift her off her feet, kiss her cheeks, her lips. Then I am breathless, step back to look into her eyes. I am dumbstruck. Her face is swollen. Her chin is flabby. Words stick in my craw and when they come out, everything is different. Foolishly I let my feelings show. 'My, god, you really did eat too much. You'll have to go on a radical diet before we get married.' As fast as a fly gets away from a swatter, tears rush down Bunny's face.
She croaks out, 'I'm not going to lose weight, Darling. I'm preg, very preg.'

 

I've never passed out before but do it with this news. A stranger is kneeling on the concrete, feeling my pulse. 'Are you ok., Mister?' He and Bunny help me to my feet.

 

I take her softly in my arms and kiss her fat lips.