Terminal- A (very) Short Story

This is what happens when one waits the night out at Heathrow Airport, with sleep being denied to him by that mysterious inner energy that refuses to oblige when one really needs it.

Statutory Warning: Sorry to disappoint but this story is NOT autobiographical. Hope you like it anyway ;)

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are at Terminal 5. This is Terminal 5- Heathrow.” Matt awoke with a start and swore under his breath. The ride from Southampton had been too short. That blissful state of sleep hadn’t got a chance to develop fully yet. Nor had that foggy but promising dream about a silver Lotus, or for that matter, the crick in his neck. He got out, dragged his bags out of the luggage hold and stood there as the coach drove off, taking in the sight of one of the world’s busiest airports, usually teeming with activity, now asleep. Sleep-deprived as he was, Matt felt faintly jealous of this giant mother-ship that usually spewed forth people out one end and aircraft out the other, but was currently dreaming its own dreams. He walked across bleary-eyed to the lifts and found his way ultimately to Departures on Level 5.

It was lovely. Rows upon rows of empty check-in counters stood on the far side, their signs lit up, casting reflections on the tiled floor. “British Airways is proud to welcome the world to our home in 2012” read a bright bill-board. Metal beams arched upward gracefully, curved above the counters and disappeared out of sight behind them, giving the place a deliciously mysterious feel. A handful of people, most of them asleep, sat or lay on seats along the concourse. A solitary employee walked back and forth at the far end mopping the tiled floor till it shined. It was 3.30 in the morning on the 29th of December 2008. Leaning over the parapet, Matt could just make out people stretched out on rows of seats, using their luggage as head and foot-rests, looking for all the world like toys discarded by a distracted kid. He smiled to himself. It was a quaint sight, but at the same time, strange- like looking at a famous movie-star without her make-up. He walked over to an empty row of seats and made himself comfortable- spread his bags out, stretched out his legs and waited for sleep to come, while staring at a blue flickering dot on a giant and otherwise black display board opposite. This time however, he was refused his sleep. He kept staring at the dot as if mesmerized, but soon his thoughts began to stray and within a couple of minutes, Matt had left Heathrow, had left London and had traveled quite far away.

He was, to be precise, in the dimly lit restaurant of the Bath YMCA. It was late evening on the last Friday of September. Most of the hostel’s octogenarian guests had retired for the night. This was where it had all started, the inexorable unraveling of his life- of their life together. In his defence, he was distracted while getting the coffee, trying to pin down a theory on why a horde of seventy- year- old’s would descend on a hostel in Bath in autumn, approach the only youngsters they could find and then proceed to declaim that they had lived in Bath for their entire lives and were taking a break from ‘Home!’ Whether the theory was finally formulated or not is debatable, but what did happen was that he forgot about Kate’s sensitivity to sugar. It was a small incident on the face of it, but now, in that silent empty terminal, with the luxury of three month’s hindsight and considerable time for reflection, Matt knew that that was what had started the ‘Break-Up.’ He should have remembered- that much was certain. But whether that would have changed anything or whether it was simply the proverbial last straw, something just waiting to happen was anyone’s guess. They hadn’t fought at the hostel, though the signs were there of a crack in the foundation. Back home in Southampton, Kate lost her temper when they found on arrival that he’d forgotten to clear the garbage before they left. Kate believed God was in the details. Matt believed neither in God nor in details. One thing led to another and they had had a row that only worsened when Matt’s flatmate Lisa stuck her head in to find out what was wrong. Kate accused Matt of being absent-minded, lazy and selfish. He on the other hand, while insisting that he clearly remembered clearing the bins, suddenly felt tired of the whole thing- this fight, their relationship, his studies, his life…He had shouted back, saying he found her not only selfish, but nit-picky, extremely demanding, irritable and- this came out without his realizing it- tiring. That clinched it and before Matt could say ‘I Didn’t Mean That’, the slamming of the doors was ringing in his ears, along with Kate’s last words to him- “I can’t talk to you anymore, and luckily, I don’t want to!”

It had been three months since and not a word from Kate. He had got caught up in life and drowned himself in his work hoping to push the entire mess into the smallest possible corner of his mind. Now it was all coming back in the belly of this silent monster that yearned for the hustle and bustle of human activity. Anything that is created for a purpose looks and feels desolate when that purpose is not served. An airport is meant to serve people. The only thing that made it look lovely in Matt’s eyes, at 3.30 in the morning was the confidence that in a few hours, that display board would be alive with colours- flight information, inane advertisements, statutory announcements. Those counters would have queues in front of them and the sound of heels and rolling strolleys and conversation would fill the now silent building. But again, wasn’t a human being himself a creation? And wasn’t the one sensible, ostensible purpose of his life to love? To share the gift that Life was with someone? How else would one prevent that feeling of desolation from creeping in? No…this was not right. He missed her, despite all her faults…or was it because of them? “I have to talk to her” he told himself and suddenly he felt a chill down his spine. Last week, his flatmate Lisa, who was still in touch with her had told him that Kate was planning to leave around New Year for Sweden on an exchange program for a year. For days he had been trying to get himself to talk to her but the moment he picked up the phone, his hands would quiver. Something told him that they were meant for each other, that that last fight was definitely not their final. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to talk to her, couldn’t trust himself over the phone or screw up the courage to meet her face to face. And now, it might already be too late…

All of a sudden, Matt felt cold. The sound of a coach pulling out reached him from afar, across the ghostly silence. The terminal seemed cold, empty….soulless. Matt longed desperately for some company, for a comforting hand, a comforting voice. As if mocking him, the display board sprang to life with a sign that said “Nokia- Connecting People.” I could do with some of that, he thought wryly. He glanced around, noticing the girl standing under the billboard, her hair lit up by the blue and white advertisement. He looked at her once again, idly wondering if she didn’t wear heels, else he’d have heard her come up and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “It can’t be…I don’t believe it!”

He walked up to her in a daze, not trusting himself, feeling that the whole thing was highly surreal. She looked up, hearing him approach and dropped her bag, startled.

“Matt! Oh my God! What….what are you doing here?!”

“Kate! I… I never thought I’ll see you again and now" ...

The tack-tack of a pair of high-heeled shoes echoed across the terminal. A woman in a business suit walked up to a counter, half-smiling to herself as she noticed a young couple talking to each other suddenly drop their luggage and embrace like there was no tomorrow. The chatter of conversation floated to her ears as a group of foreign tourists entered the building, laughing at a private joke, enjoying a few precious moments of genuine happiness. The terminal was coming back to life. Dazed but happy, Matt moved toward the BA check-in counter after having seen off Kate smiling to himself as a thought struck him. This is a place where people embark on a journey or come back to resume one. Why in the world is it called a terminal?!