You sat across from me in the terminal while we waited for our flight to board. I thought you looked a little like Kelly from The Office (American). I tried to be discreet as I studied your face to determine whether it was a true resemblance I saw and not a superficial ethnic parallel. You did not seem to notice my staring. I turned my attention to something else. At some point you changed seats, to accommodate a large family, I think, and I found you sitting beside me.
I fell asleep.
I awoke to someone telling me my flight was boarding. I was waiting for the flight to Toulouse, wasn’t I?
I thanked you profusely as I stood and gathered my things. I suppose
it was the title of the book I was reading or perhaps the general uncertainty that colored my movements, the wide-eyed stare with which I regarded my surroundings (it was only an airport, for God’s sake), that prompted you to speak to me in English rather than French.
You were ahead of me in line to board the plane, but you seemed to be keeping an eye on me, for you noticed the panicked look that crossed my face as I realized I was no longer holding my passport. You stepped out of line and asked what was wrong as I frantically pawed at my purse. I told you I wasn’t sure where my passport was.
“Look for it properly.”
It was an instruction not a suggestion, patient but firm, as though you suspected the kind of person I was and am, the kind who is often frightened by new surroundings and gets flustered easily and becomes too panicked at the first sign of something gone wrong to proceed rationally. Under other circumstances I might have resented your tone, but now I appreciated your level-headedness, your interest in my well-being, your use of the word properly. It was such a British turn of phrase, and so accurate, as though you’d seen this reaction before and knew I needed to be reminded to stay calm, to take things one step at a time.
I did as you instructed and retrieved my passport from the inner recesses of my purse, feeling immensely foolish and relieved as I held it up for you to see. Your nod of acknowledgment told me you knew it was there all along.
It was a message I would repeat over and over again as I wandered alone on an unfamiliar continent, when I lost track of my phone, my passport, my wallet, my pills, any the loss that might have amounted to a crisis. Look for it properly. Look for it properly.
