That day I woke up without any of it really registering. I didn't feel aggitated or sick, just mildly nervous. I was pissed off and angry at her mostly. She'd been acting differently for the last two weeks. She said nothing had changed but she was distant, treating me like a passing aquaintance. It made my blood seethe. She was pushing me away for some reason. She was keeping something from me. This scenario was too familiar and I wasn't going to let her get off that easy. I'd finally get to the heart of it. I'd finally confront her and make her tell me.

As Mom and I approached LAX, though, curiousity took over. I didn't even remember being angry. We hunkered down beside an pillar in baggage claim, chatting away and laughing with each other. Across the way I finally saw her. Surreal. I'd done this blind meeting thing four times before and it still got me. We stuck our tongues out at each other and she walked over. Her bright orange pants matched my orange-red dragon shirt, creating this incredibly loud mardi gras combo as we hugged tight and smiled. Her suitcase looked like it had a late-term pregnancy. It had sleigh bells. Carrying that thing sucked.

After getting lost and bitching about how frequently the airport changes things around, we hit the 405. Five lane freeway, five lane parking lot, 5 PM: Rush hour. I looked back at her a couple of times as conversation ambled on. Her face was round and sortof lean, not as chubby as it looked like on the webcam. Some of her front teeth were crooked or bent back, which made her seem child-like in a way. Neither one of us wanted to do something awkward, but Mom was unusually talkative and bouncy so we played along and had fun.

We got back to the house, threw her crap down and there we were, looking at each other from opposite ends of my room. I started reading my book as she midwifed her pregnant suitcase and pitched camp. It was nice that my folks didn't mind her sleeping in the same room as me. We groped at conversation here and there. There was a subtle tension but we didn't feel awkward. I wanted to give her a few days before touching her. Girls and women I'd flown to see tended to "feel all weird" about me doing that.

Yet there she was suddenly sitting next to me on my bed, my book in her hands, looking at it as (she says) an excuse to get closer. I put it down...and just like that, we were snuggled against one another. She felt so soft, warm. Yeah, I was going to let her get off that easy. I didn't even care. She was here with me.

After all of us had gone out to eat, she and I hung out in my room and talked, cuddled close. At one point she turned over to face me and had her eyes closed. She moved her mouth as if to purse her lips, then looked at me. She moved her head to kiss me and I followed without thought. Emotions and limbs wended around each other, slow, subtle. We savored one another for hours. It'd been so long since I held someone. Jen felt comfortable and right. It was the feeling right part that made me not need to think. That first night we quietly (as we could) made love. I was so nervous to please her it was endearingly awkward, but she felt very satisfied and we fell asleep together, the household none the wiser.

I could have gotten used to that, and we did...

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