Page 18 of The Woman in 3B
My cheeks warmed. “Yeah. I guess I should have stuck to a safe salad.”
She hummed in agreement, but didn’t continue to tease me. I watched her use a plastic knife and fork to cut her salad toppings into smaller, more manageable bites—something I probably should have done with my pizza if I hadn’t wanted to look like a buffoon.
I took the opportunity to inspect my tablemate while her attention was on her salad. Her charcoal grey suit was tailored to her slim silhouette. The three-quarter lengthened suit jacket left her wrists exposed. The leather band of her rose gold watch matched the hue of her slightly darker pants.
“I don’t suppose you have any insider knowledge on when flights will start leaving again?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I know just as much as you.”
“So much for getting home in time,” she sighed.
I was tempted to ask her what she needed to get home in time for, but I didn’t want to come across as nosy.
Anissa was quiet as she ate her salad. The action of her plastic fork delivering bits of green leaf lettuce and cucumber slices drew my attention to my two favorite body parts—her mouth and hands. I loved feminine hands. Delicate wrist bones. Slender fingers. Her lips looked pillowy soft, like I could fall into them and never emerge. Her eye makeup was meticulous. I envied her skill with mascara and eyeshadow. Whenever I tried to be more liberal with eye makeup I ended up looking like the undead.
“Your eyebrows are unreal.” I spoke aloud without meaning to.
I tended to mute myself around seemingly straight women. I worried about coming across as flirty without meaning it; I didn’t want to be like an obnoxious man who couldn’t take a hint. But women complimented each other all the time, I tried to reassure myself. Shade of lipstick. Killer heels. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows. And this woman had them all.
Anissa arched one of the aforementioned eyebrows. “Thank you. Good genes I guess.”
I forced myself to look away and picked at my mutilated slice of pepperoni pizza with no intention of actually eating it.
Anissa sighed and threw her plastic fork into her salad bowl. She’d eaten about as much of her salad as I had of my pizza.
“I’m about to drop,” she announced. “I’ve got to find a quiet corner to sleep off this wasted Dramamine.” She grabbed her salad container and stood abruptly. “Thanks for sharing your space.”
I looked up after her. “Sure thing. Have a good flight home.”
She gave me a tight smile. “If I ever make it.”
+ + +
My phone continued to give me bad news. Our original two-hour delay turned into three. The weather continued to worsen on the East Coast as a particularly stubborn storm hovered directly over our location and refused to budge. When my phone alerted me that the three-hour delay was now in question, I went in search of more complete answers.
I didn’t know the gate agent who stood at the computer by our boarding gate to Boston.
“Hey,” I greeted with a smile. “Do you have any updates on our flight?” I kept my tone light and conversational, knowing how many disgruntled customers she would have dealt with that day.
I didn’t envy the work our gate agents did. They were the ones who had to deal with irritated customers whose flights had been delayed or canceled because of reasons out of their control. They had to smile while getting hollered at about lost luggage or missed connecting flights. I only had to serve free drinks and remind passengers to get off their phones before takeoff.
The woman made a face. “The fog’s too thick, the lightning strikes are too frequent, and the wind gusts might as well be a hurricane. Nothing’s coming in or out tonight.”
“Nothing?” My voice cracked. “We’re grounded?”
“I’m afraid so; every remaining flight’s been canceled. I’m working on rebooking passengers on tomorrow’s flights right now.”
Her eyes dropped back down to her computer screen and her fingers continued to type away at the plastic keyboard.
I lifted myself up on my toes and leaned against the gate desk. “Er, so, uh, what do I do now?”
She didn’t look back up. Her attention remained on the computer monitor. “We’re trying to arrange overnight hotel stays for everyone, but it’s a bit of a zoo. Everyone’s been affected by the weather, not just our airline. We’re asking everyone to be patient right now.”
I nodded grimly. “It’s better than sleeping at the airport, I suppose.”
“Keep your phone close,” she told me. “The airline will be texting details about where to catch your hotel shuttle.”
“Okay. Thanks. Good luck!”
