fternoon departure time permitted DF and I chance to enjoy a latté at our shop before making the short two-mile drive to the airport. As always his suitcases were brimming with new clothing for the boys, and gifts that we'd accumulated for them throughout the year in anticipation of his twice annual visit. The airport was observing high security so we said our farewell before the security check point. After a clutching embrace I watched him disappear behind the checkpoint and whistle off towards the gate. I hadn't paid attention to the fact that something was a little different this time. This was to be a typical three week vacation for him and a hectic time for me with the tourist season in full swing. His call from Europe came in the next day, early in the morning, announcing that he'd arrived safely. We exchanged a few words and he announced that he would reactivate the cell phone he kept in his parents village the next day. That was our usual means of contact while he was away.
I was burning the midnight oil in the office, catching up on reports that had been piling up on my desk the next time we spoke. His voice trembled as he uttered the words, "She won't let me see the kids!". "Why?" I asked. "Money. My ex-wife says we didn't sent the correct amount last month" he replied. Shocked to hear this I opened my banking account information on the computer at my desk and poured through the entries. "How much is the shortfall?" I asked. "Nothing seems amiss to me, but let me check it out with the bank manager and I'll ring you back". He replied that there was a difference of about $400 US. I offered to call the wire transfer office right away and make sure it was dispatched that afternoon, but was met with some resistance by DF. "No, don't do that. This is just a ruse of hers to get more money from us. Don't send anything, I'll take care of it with an attorney first thing in the morning. She's not going to manipulate me like this". It seemed ridiculous to me to be arguing over such a small amount when the boys had been so anxious for his visit, but I was assured that before the end of the 21 day visit, one way or another he'd get to be with the children.
Towards the end of the second week, still no success even with his attorney's intervention, or so I was told. DF, with a trembling voice, announced that if nothing improved in order to deal with the disappointment he was thinking of going hiking in the Alps for the last 7 days of his stay. Providing little more information than that he needed to dispense with the stress by some physical exercise he promised that he'd call before getting on his return flight. I heard nothing more from him and when on the morning of his return no call had arrived I began to worry. He was one to do things to excess, always pushing the bar and testing the limits.
On a visit to the Alps together three years earlier in 1999, he'd insisted on walking to the edge of a precipice like a sure-footed mountain goat, and my heart had been in my mouth until he made it back to the look-out pavilion, where I had remained.
I was burning the midnight oil in the office, catching up on reports that had been piling up on my desk the next time we spoke. His voice trembled as he uttered the words, "She won't let me see the kids!". "Why?" I asked. "Money. My ex-wife says we didn't sent the correct amount last month" he replied. Shocked to hear this I opened my banking account information on the computer at my desk and poured through the entries. "How much is the shortfall?" I asked. "Nothing seems amiss to me, but let me check it out with the bank manager and I'll ring you back". He replied that there was a difference of about $400 US. I offered to call the wire transfer office right away and make sure it was dispatched that afternoon, but was met with some resistance by DF. "No, don't do that. This is just a ruse of hers to get more money from us. Don't send anything, I'll take care of it with an attorney first thing in the morning. She's not going to manipulate me like this". It seemed ridiculous to me to be arguing over such a small amount when the boys had been so anxious for his visit, but I was assured that before the end of the 21 day visit, one way or another he'd get to be with the children.
Towards the end of the second week, still no success even with his attorney's intervention, or so I was told. DF, with a trembling voice, announced that if nothing improved in order to deal with the disappointment he was thinking of going hiking in the Alps for the last 7 days of his stay. Providing little more information than that he needed to dispense with the stress by some physical exercise he promised that he'd call before getting on his return flight. I heard nothing more from him and when on the morning of his return no call had arrived I began to worry. He was one to do things to excess, always pushing the bar and testing the limits.
On a visit to the Alps together three years earlier in 1999, he'd insisted on walking to the edge of a precipice like a sure-footed mountain goat, and my heart had been in my mouth until he made it back to the look-out pavilion, where I had remained.
Later that afternoon, after not being successful in reaching DF on the cell phone, I called the airport in Switzerland to enquire if any flights had been delayed, but all had departed on time. By nightfall I was pacing the living room wondering what to do. It was not like him to not call for 8 days. Thinking that "no news is usually good news" I tried to relax, but by 9:00pm that day it was getting progressively more difficult. What could have gone wrong?
Within less than half an hour the phone rang and upon hearing his voice I let out a sigh of relief and shared that I was so glad to hear from him and that he was alright. He became a little irritated, short, and instructed me to meet him at the local airport in one hour and promptly ended the call. I think the relief that rolled over me like a warm blanket caused me to dismiss his curt exchange on the phone and I prepared something for him to eat and headed off the meet him. The last arrival at the local airport was a 50-minute flight connecting from the nearest International airport and landed at 10:15pm. I negotiated the airport ring road, pulling in front of the arrivals door in order to look for a parking place nearby. To my shock at 10:00pm a good 15 minutes before ETA he was already stepping off the curb with two suitcases in tow. I quickly stopped the car, flung the door open and dashed towards him with arms open, but as I went to kiss him he turned and dropped his head, broke free from my embrace and began to load the luggage into the back of the car. Grrr. Jet lag! After a good night's sleep, he'll be more rested. There's always tomorrow when we'll have a chance to catch up on all the affection.
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