They had arrived at the airport late, which is to say, only forty minutes early — something he’d blamed Susan for, even though he was the one who'd decided to pack another suitcase in the morning — so the moment they passed the security check, they broke into a run. He exited the check first, having in one motion snatched two gray bins and dumped into them his backpack and shoes, and by the time she’d passed through the screening door, he was already waiting with his shoes on and bags in hand, and turned the moment she picked up her suitcase. She scooped up her backpack and with her shoes flopping from her feet she ran after him. They weaved past a huddle of people staring up at an information board, turned down a corridor and then did not slow down once, not to listen to the overhead announcements, not as they stomped up an escalator, not when they made a wrong turn and spun around in a whirl of baggage and coats — until they finally reached their terminal breathless and sore, so of course their flight was delayed and of course the delay had been written on the boards they'd run past.

They fell into a pair of empty seats. Susan lay back and watched the rain pelt the windows. It had begun a cloudy day and was pouring by the time they had reached New York. At what point, she wondered, had the storm grown furious enough to warrant the delay. She felt sleepy and then thought about those American women who brought U-shaped pillows on flights. She had no room for such a pillow. She had stuffed her suitcase with perfumes and lotions: the perfumes to her husband's sisters, the face creams to her own, and the Estee Lauder eye cream to the wife of Kang, his friend they would visit first. She envisioned every gift, each individually wrapped and placed in the different compartments, and then started to inventory the other important items: their passports and their small bundle of cash in her purse, and she realized she could not remember where she had put their tickets. She plunged her hand into her coat pockets and rummaged through them and was reaching down into her bag when he nudged her.

“Did you see that? Our departure just got pushed back again,” he said. “It was a twenty-minute delay before and now it is nearly forty minutes. Who knows how much longer they'll continue to delay.”

“I'm sure they'll make an announcement.”

He grunted and said, “I’ll ask,” and then stood up and started towards the attendant at the desk. Susan followed dutifully.

The flight attendant let him speak and when he finished, looked confused and said, “Sorry, could you repeat that?” He breathed deep and his ears turned red. Susan stepped in front of him and explained, “He was curious, the times on the screen were changing, so if you knew a little more…”

“Unfortunately, ma’am, I don’t know. That is why we recommend everyone stay close by, because we may receive information that could change the expected wait time again.”

“So maybe less than forty minutes?” he interjected.

“That’s certainly possible. But it could also be longer than forty minutes.”

“Like two hours?”

“That is not impossible.”

He stared at the flight attendant. Susan thanked the flight attendant and tugged at his arm. He turned and together they returned to their seats.

“A few hours,” he grunted.

Or sometime soon, she thought.

He looked around. “I need to tell Lao Kang that our arrival will be delayed a few hours.”

“You’re making a long-distance call? Now?”

“I have to. They might delay for hours.”

“We can’t be too sure of the delay. So if we’re trying to give a good time to expect us—”

“He’s not just expecting us. He was going to pick us up." He opened his pocketbook and leafed through the pages.

“He is?”

“Yes, I told you. Did you forget?” And then he left.

Or we may be called soon, she thought, and they would need the tickets. Had they fallen out when they were running through the airport? She would have to retrace their steps back through the airport, to the security tunnel, and maybe—

Susan began to pace. She’d picked up the habit months ago, when she was round and twenty pounds heavier, and though her ankles ached and he scowled, she would walk back and forth in the living room, late into the night, planning for the baby, planning for the restaurant.

She would not have left the tickets alone in the bin; she would have noticed, or one of the security agents would have noticed. Yes, surely the tickets were in her backpack, which was the first to come out of the scanner tunnel, or if not, then in her suitcase or one of their other pieces of luggage. She would need to go through every item in their bags until she found them before he returned, so he would not see her looking through her bags and he would not scoff at her forgetfulness.

Susan turned on her heel. She made eye contact with another Chinese woman who had just stood up from her seat and started to walk towards her.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. The young woman spoke formally and her Mandarin held a southern lilt. “I apologize, I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking to the flight attendant right after they made the announcement. Did they say anything about how long the delay would be, and why?”

“They didn’t. The information board on the screens says a forty-minute delay, but the attendant said they can’t be too sure. It could be an hour, or more.”

“So I have an hour then,” the young woman smiled. “Thanks. My brother is picking me up in Chengdu, and we’re driving to Ganxi afterwards.”

“We’re compatriots then. My husband and I are both from Sichuan. And we’re visiting our parents. Well, probably we will mostly be visiting a friend of his.”

“Actually, the moment you spoke I could tell you were a southerner. My name’s Ying, surname Yun.”

Susan paused. She'd almost given the name she chose when she was pregnant and kept even after the miscarriage. "Chen Mi," she said finally.

"Chen Mi," Yun Ying repeated. "One of my co-workers had a similar name."

"What line of work are you in?"

"I'm a technician in a lab. We do medication tests. Heart disease mostly. I run the tests for the new drugs."

"I see. We run a restaurant. My husband went to culinary school in Chengdu."

“You own a restaurant?”

"Almost. We had a chance to become a partner, but the owner asked for more money than we had and didn’t want to wait, so he found someone else instead. Well, maybe again in a few years if we save carefully, is what I told my husband." Not that he’d listened. He had seemingly forgotten their budgeting. “And ever since, he’s wanted to visit home. Anyway, the restaurant is closing for a week, so I finally agreed. Told him it was back to saving once we returned home, but actually, I’m looking forward to the visit as well. If only to remind us why we left.”

Yun's face darkened. "I don't think it's so bad now, is it?"

"It's not so bad, maybe, but it's so different. The people are different, no privacy and no long-term thinking—for me it’s suffocating. Don't you think so?"

"My parents are always telling me that I'd be surprised with the changes back home. I hope they're right. For their sake."

“Of course, I’m sorry. They must be excited to see you.” Susan turned away from Yun. She’d suddenly remembered that she was looking for their tickets. She must be running out of time. She needed to tell her husband about the tickets, and she needed him to help her look for them. Where was he? He must have paid to extend his phone call by now. “Excuse me, I must find my husband.”

Susan walked back out of the terminal into the concourse and stared down the corridor. She could not see a single payphone, but she hoped she would find a map that would show where they were. She passed through the long corridor but found only advertisements on the walls and was starting to panic when she saw him walking back towards her. She waved and then he asked, "Shouldn’t we be staying close by the gate?”

"I was just looking for you. Wanted to check if you had any issues making the long-distance call."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Did you discuss anything important with Kang? You know, they might make up the time in flight."

"I don't think they're allowed. Anyways, Kang is a very punctual man—I mean, look where he is—and since this means we'll be getting in very late, he suggested that we have dinner together, instead."

Then he sat back and pulled out the latest issue of Metro Chinese Weekly, another new habit. She eyed his tiny backpack, stuffed with old sweaters and newspapers. Susan did not remember his telling her about any meal together with Kang, but he would use her forgetfulness like a sucker punch and tell her that she’d just forgotten about it. And maybe he had told her. There was no point to her asking.

Susan left and went back down to the first floor, right outside of the security check. The floors were clean, at least of their tickets. Perhaps someone had picked them up. Susan looked around and walked to an unnamed booth, but it was only an exchange desk. She passed through a half dozen other shops and kiosks and then finally found the lost and found.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I think I might have lost my plane tickets.”

The man barely glanced down. “Sorry ma’am, none here. If anybody reported any lost tickets, we would make the announcement to have the owner collect.”

Susan thanked him and walked slowly back to her gate. They had only fifteen minutes left before boarding. She’d have to tell him she lost the tickets. He would call her forgetful, but then maybe afterwards, in the time they had left, they would search together. What would they do if they could not find the plane tickets? They would have to go back to Philly, wouldn’t they.

The intercom staticked in again. "To passengers for the 676 Flight to Chengdu, China. While continuing to observe hazardous weather conditions, we are performing a final safety check with regards to visibility. Please be advised that your flight has been delayed to 9:27 p.m. Thank you for your patience."

When Susan returned to their gate, her husband was up, his newspaper folded roughly. “Can you believe it?”

But they did say earlier that was a possibility, Susan thought. “It's better to be safe.”

“How can you say that so calmly?”

As if she had passed through those foggy windows and grounded the plane herself. She considered him. The once energetic and handsome face that had brought her here had been replaced by a desperate restlessness that shriveled his cheeks and darkened his eyes. He looked the same now as he did the day after her miscarriage. He had gaped at her as she walked in, smiling over the most painful cramp she had ever felt. She had walked in and taken her place at the front of the restaurant and greeted and sat customers down.  Meanwhile he’d left all of the cooking to the boy he was training, and instead all day he called herbal doctors, pharmacists and finally a psychic to inquire about nutrition defects, to understand if they had done something wrong in a past life, if there was a spirit haunting them, if maybe the baby had refused to come out because the place of birth was wrong.

Susan breathed out. "It can't be helped," Susan said. "We might as well get something to eat. I saw a McDonald's close by." She walked down the corridor to the cluster of restaurants in their terminal and lined up at the McDonald’s. It was big for an airport restaurant and had its own dining area opposite a bar.

Susan ordered and picked up the bag of food and looked around. Near the bar sat Yun Ying, who looked up and waved, and so Susan walked over and pulled out a chair next to her.

Susan pointed at Yun's sandwich. “Is that from the bar?”

Yun shook her head. “No, it’s from another place. It’s not very good. Wish I could afford a drink. I haven't had a drink in a week.” She put her sandwich down. “By the way, did you catch the announcement they just made? I can never quite understand what they’re saying.”

"Oh, yes. There'll be a delay."

Yun asked, "Really, was that all? Did they say for how long?"

"An hour or so. Until 9:30."

"That's almost three hours total. Did they say why?"

Susan shrugged. "The weather. Something to do with safety."

"I see." Yun sat back. "Most of the time I don’t even look at the weather forecast. They’re wrong half the time, anyway, never predicting the right amount of rain or saying it will snow when it won't. It usually doesn’t matter. But then we have this airplane, and our safety depends entirely on predicting the weather. Almost makes you want to get out of here and never ride a plane, doesn’t it?" She smiled. "Guess I have an hour to do that."

"My husband would push us through even if it was storming. He really wanted this trip."

"What about you?"

"I think I will enjoy the visit too. It’s been years, after all."

"You are never lonely back home. One of the benefits of living there." Yun paused. "Thank you for helping me, by the way. I'm asking you so many questions." She chewed and swallowed. "To be honest, I haven't told you my whole situation. I'm not just seeing my parents, but my son as well." She looked away. "My brother is the only one who knows. It'll be a surprise to the rest of them. I apologize for not telling you earlier. It's just, well, it may be hard to explain why."

"You're stressed about making your brother late."

"Yes, but not just that. I’m worried that my parents would be disappointed in me."

"Disappointed? They will be so happy to have your visit."

"When I left, they told me how I would fail, that I was leaving my son for nothing.”

“Of course they said that when you’re leaving. But when you go back, they’ll do everything to keep you back.”

Yun Ying put down her sandwich. "I'm sure they will." She looked down. "I am sure they have already called friends and cousins and have jobs they want me to consider. Maybe even a man."

"That's parents. Mine don’t even use the money I send them. They’re saving it for when we have children, they say."

Yun nodded. "They even tell me to not waste money on long-distance calls. They write letters every two weeks instead. I write back. I wonder who reads to my son." She looked down for a moment, and then turned to look at Susan. “I'm so glad my brother is picking me up. He was the only one who didn’t tell me I would fail.”

“Family like that is a blessing.”

“But thinking about him waiting alone—I wish I could tell him we were delayed.”

“We might make up the time in the air.”

“These bosses back home.” Yun shook her head. “He travels west for construction. The boss pays for the ticket, but he’s packed in there with eight others, and if the train is slow, he has to call and apologize, like he broke the train himself. I wonder how long he is taking off work just to pick me up.”

“Don’t think like that. Think about how happy you’ll be to see each other, after being alone here.”

 “Yes. Right.”

“Right? And not just your brother, but your parents, too.”

“I wonder what my son would think.”

“Your son would only be happy to see his mother again. How could he be anything but excited?”

“He’s grown up. He could be disappointed I missed his childhood and still can’t bring him over here.”

“Then he’s old enough to understand your situation. Besides, it was the right—"

“He watched me leave him.”

“What?”

“The night I was leaving, I stayed in bed with him until he was asleep, and then I slowly got up and packed the final things I needed. The documents, my bags. And when I turned around to close the door, I could see his eyes were open. It was dark, and he didn’t cry or say a word or make a sound but I could see his eyes wide open.” Yun put her food down again and her eyes glazed, like she was seeing through Susan. “And last week I had a dream that I saw him again. My brother brought him to the airport, even though he was supposed to keep it a secret from my family. And when I hugged, I saw my son in the car. He wasn’t crying at all, just staring at me.”

“Well,” Susan paused. "You cannot think too much of dreams.”

"I suppose so. It couldn't be helped. Every time I think I was steady enough, something would happen." Yun brought her sandwich to her mouth. "They keep needing me at different locations, so I could never stay in the same place."

"And soon you will. Maybe after the visit."

"Right." Yun chewed. "The visit."

"You're almost there. Maybe you just need to put in a bit more time, and you'll be able to find a lab that understands their need to keep someone like you. They'll have to let you stay in one place, and then you'll be able to bring your son over." Susan paused. "I'll help you."

"How?"

"I'm good at telling people what's what. I'll give you my phone number. Call me in three weeks, and together we'll make sure you tell your bosses what you need. Trust me, sometimes all it takes is a partner."

"You mean after we both return. From our visits."

"From our visits."

"He'll be almost ten."

"Young enough that you still have time. Time to get to where you need to be."

"Right."

"And as you said, it is getting better every day. He's well fed and happy with his grandparents. He’ll be happy. Just enjoy the trip. Why worry now after you've paid for the tickets?"

"Yes, it was so much."

"You're telling me. Our return trip is in the middle of the night, and it’s still too high. I hope your return trip is not so late, for your brother’s sake."

“I haven’t bought that ticket yet.”

"Mercy. It’ll cost a fortune."

"Yes, I’m sure," Yun said, and then bit into her sandwich and chewed for a long time. Finally she finished, and said, "Thank you, Susan." And then stood up and threw away the rest of her sandwich, half eaten. Yun waited by the exit. A wave of passengers filled up the corridor, and she slowly stepped through and merged into the current of people walking along. Susan stared at the corridor with its white noise of faces and clothes and shoes and bags. Everything started to blur and the corridor swelled with people and then at once the crowd cleared, and Yun was gone.

Susan didn't remember her walk back. She had returned to their terminal and offered the burger to her husband. He grabbed it from her without a word. She waited as he finished. In the far corner, a small crowd was gathering by the boarding desk.

The flight attendants there were huddled together around the pilot. She grimaced and turned to the flight attendant next to her, who spoke while the others nodded, and finally they separated and faced the passengers. The first attendant stooped towards the microphone and announced, “This is an announcement for the passengers for the 676 Flight to Chengdu, China. Due to hazardous weather conditions for the foreseeable future, the flight has now been canceled. We apologize deeply for the inconvenience."

He jumped up. “This isn’t happening.”

“We have to find out how we can get a refund," Susan said.

“And how to book the next flight out,” grunted her husband. He grabbed all of their bags altogether and pushed past her towards the attendants managing their terminal. Susan went along behind him. They watched the flight attendant at the desk, her eyes flitting back and forth between the multiple monitors and the customers as she spoke to each one, and they slowly staggered forward until, finally, they were face to face with her. Before her husband could speak, Susan stepped forward in front of him.

“We need to be refunded for the flight that was cancelled and to book a new flight."

"Okay. The 676?”

“Yes.”

"Very well. So, a flight to the same destination?"

"Yes please."

"One ticket for tomorrow morning?"

"Yes. I mean no, two tickets.”

"We will make that change. Any bags you had checked in will be transferred automatically."

"And the refund for the flight."

 She turned to her other monitor and typed some more. "We’re sorry ma'am. Unfortunately, we cannot make secure connections with our customers’ credit card companies. So currently, I am putting in your request, and once the connections are restored, the system will process the request. Tomorrow morning you should be able to call and confirm your refund. Either way, this cancellation has been recorded.”  She handed Susan a receipt.

"I can call in the morning?"

“Any time after 6 A.M."

"Thank you."

They turned away from the desk and shuffled behind the slow parade of people. Susan said, "I guess we’ll need to find a place to stay the night.”

They moved slowly. Susan watched her husband eye passengers lying down on rows of seats. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along the exit signs. On their right, huddles of passengers slept against the walls. On their left, the crowd shoved and hurried past them. Outside, the winds shrieked and climbed higher and higher in pitch until they shuffled to the exit and the door opened and in one big exhale, they were outside.

They stood in line, unspeaking, and in a haze, they had hailed a cab and were riding along, looping away from the airport. They sat in silence, and when the car stopped in front of the motel, they stepped out.

The motel’s neon sign was flickering, and the lights leading up to the entrance were dim. Inside, both the floor and walls were carpeted bright red. At the front desk sat a single attendant, an older man with a long beard who wore an ornate, blue-and-red hat and cloak set.

"Good evening," he said, "how may I help you?"

“We’re looking for a place to stay for one night."

"Very well, we have two rooms available. If you could both just sign here." He unrolled a long scroll of paper. "We’ll have you set up."

Susan shook her head. "No, just one room."

“I’m sorry ma'am. Hotel policy. All of the rooms we have available are single occupancy."

"Single occupancy?"

"Only one person is allowed to stay. For safety reasons."

"What kind of safety reasons? We’re married, why would we get two separate rooms?"

"I’m sorry ma'am. That is just how our hotel is designed."

"We don’t need a large bed or anything like that."

"That’s not the issue. The codes require us to specify what kind of room they are, and we only have single-occupancy rooms available, and we cannot provide a single-occupancy room knowingly to two people."

"Knowingly? How is that specified?"

The man smiled grimly. Her husband put his hand on her arm and motioned to the side, and whispered, "We can just get two rooms.”

"No," Susan insisted. "We can get this room. We have the right, and we need to save everything so we can get a piece of the restaurant, remember?"

Her husband leaned back and looked away. "Yes."

They returned to the desk. "Listen," she began, "what would be the difference if I got a room for myself and he happened to come join me?"

"Ma'am, you can't tell me that." The man frowned. "I don't even know that you're married. Do you have a marriage certificate?"

"Who carries around a marriage certificate?"

"True, but married couples usually wear wedding rings. He wears one." Susan looked down. Her ring was not there. The man continued. "So, you see, I have to be particularly vigilant. In case of—well, you know, there have been the raids recently."

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing ma'am, only explaining why I can't do as you say."

"But you're the only one here. Please, sir. We’ve paid a lot  and today we have lost two plane tickets. We’re trying to visit home. Please understand."

The attendant stared at her for a long time, and then said, "Only you will sign your name?"

Susan nodded. "Fine."

He opened the black book and pointed with his finger at a blank new line. "Just your name, then. I did not see your husband with you."

Susan nodded.

When she finished signing, Susan turned around and reached for her suitcase, but it was gone. Her husband must have taken it up. She thanked the concierge one more time and then started up the stairs and down the hall to the room and collapsed into bed.

***

The next morning when Susan awoke, she remembered the moment before falling asleep so clearly and quickly, as if she had not slept but instead paused the events of the previous night in order to resume them in the morning.

She needed to call the airline’s customer service. She leapt out of bed, and having slept in her clothes from the previous night, left the room and walked down the hall and down the stairs, pushed through a door, and was outside.

She found a payphone two blocks away, a lonely thing in a metal booth. She entered the number for the customer service desk.

"Hello, this is the customer help desk for Air China. How may I help you?"

“I would like to confirm a refund for a flight that was canceled."

"Alright. May I have the flight number?"

"Yes. Flight 676, New York to Chengdu."

"Ok, thank—" The woman paused. There was a faint sound of typing and then she spoke again. "I'm sorry ma'am, we cannot give refunds for flights after the fact."

"After the fact?"

"Ma'am, Flight 676 landed in Chengdu two hours ago. The flight departed at 8:35 p.m. last night and landed at 7:23 a.m. Eastern time."

Of course it had. The plane was in Sichuan, and they could not afford more tickets. She would not be flying out of New York. Susan hung up. She returned to the motel and walked past the manager signing out a couple and ascended the stairs and found their room. Her husband was not there. His suitcase was gone as well, and in fact, the only bag in the room was her backpack. She dashed into the bathroom, threw open the shower curtains, and bounded back into the room and threw her backpack on and ran downstairs.

She waited for the new guests to leave and then she walked up to the manager.

"Hello," she began. "Would you have happened to see my husband leave this morning?”

“Sorry?” he asked.

“He's not in our room. Maybe he also went outside to buy breakfast—would you have seen him walk out, by any chance?"

"Ma'am," he said. "Unfortunately, I don't know what your husband looks like."

"He was with me last night when he came."

"You came here alone last night, remember? You said you were seeing someone off for a late flight and wanted a room for the night. We were nearly full but accommodated you."

"Right," Susan replied. She looked around and lowered her voice. "But right now, there's nobody else here. Between you and me, did you see him leave this morning?"

He stared at her for so long a cloud passed, and the early morning light turned red. Finally, he reached under the desk and pulled out the black book from the previous night. He set it down on the counter and opened the book to the most recent page. He put his finger down where she had signed.

“See? Here is your name. Here is your signature. Here is the date—yesterday's—and here is the type of room and number of occupants: one."

She looked down at her signature. It was a signature she’d practiced for years, and there it was.

"I must be a little confused then." She needed to return to the town. They had an assistant chef who would take over the cooking, but the waiters they hired were part-timers and glassy-eyed college students, and the restaurant needed her at the register and in the front of the house. “I need to return to Philadelphia.”

“Very well, I can point you to the train station. Or there is the Chinatown bus stop, just past the bakery a few turns ahead.”

The bus, of course. She would need to save every penny to buy the restaurant.