Page 71 of The Woman in 3B
“It’s never too late,” I winked. “We’re always accepting applications.”
“Did you see her yesterday, too?” she asked.
I nodded. “We went to Bloomfield Hills for my niece’s piano recital.”
“She met yourfamily?” Gemma squeaked.
“Just my sister and her brood.” I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, even though it actually was. Very few women I’d dated had made it that far.
Our bodies instinctively veered towards the women’s bathroom closest to our gates. I hated nothing more than having to use the bathroom mid-flight. Not only did I dislike the claustrophobic space, but the moment I locked the bathroom door behind me was inevitably the moment someone pressed the Call button to request my assistance.
“She’s met the family, but when doIget to meet this amazing woman?” Gemma pressed.“I know you’ve said I saw her on a jet bridge in Philadelphia, but I don’t remember that so it doesn’t count.”
“I don’t want to scare her away,” I laughed. “I barely got her to agree to go out with me.”
“What if you casually pointed her out to me on a flight?” Gemma suggested. “I can play it cool.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No offense, but subtlety isn’t exactly your strength. Remember that pilot you had a crush on? What was his name?”
“Desmond,” she sighed. “Don’t remind me. I’ve never fake laughed at so many dad jokes in my life.”
Because of the early hour, the women’s bathroom was relatively empty. We entered separate stalls that were close to each other.
“Tell me I need my head examined if I ever suggest dating a pilot again,” I heard Gemma’s voice.
Gemma was a notorious bathroom talker. She continued her conversations from her stall instead of waiting until we’d finished in the bathroom. I typically only responded to her comments with noncommittal hums.
“I can’t believe your luck,” she continued from the next stall over. “You get a girlfriend,andyou’re going to win at bingo.”
I winced when Gemma said the words aloud. I didn’t consider myself superstitious—especially not in comparison with some of the people I’d flown with before—but I didn’t want to jinx anything. Despite an almost-conversation about if we were exclusive, Anissa wasn’t my girlfriend yet. And I hadn’t finished the bingo card yet either.
“I was really skeptical about the game at first, but now that you’re so close to winning, I’m actually getting excited,” Gemma continued. “Like, I’m probably more excited than you!”
I didn’t really participate in the conversation. Not only did I feel weird about hollering my business in a public restroom, but I also hadn’t been focused on completing my bingo card as of late. Instead, I’d been counting down to when I could see Anissa next.
Gemma was already standing at the line of sinks when I exited my bathroom stall. “It’s perfect. Like, absolutely perfect,” she effused. “You could complete the Mile High Club task with Anissa on Wednesday, and I’m sure someone’s going to puke before the end of the month. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”
Gemma grabbed an extra paper towel from the dispenser and had it ready for me. “I wonder how much money you’re going to win,” she mused. “I’ve never heard of anyone completing all the challenges before; you’re going to be, like, a flight attendant legend.”
“Nothing’s a done deal,” I finally spoke. “I’m not going to count my chickens before they’ve hatched.”
I looked up from washing my hands when a stall door behind me opened. The movement in the mirror’s reflection drew my attention, but I instantly froze when I realized I knew the woman who’d been in the bathroom stall. Water continued to rush out of my sink’s faucet and swirl down the drain.
My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. “I-I didn’t think you were flying today.”
I watched the woman’s reflection in the mirror as she approached the empty sink beside me to wash her hands.
“A colleague called in sick,” she said calmly. Coolly. “I’m going to Denver today.”
“Mile High City,” I stupidly recited, as if playing a game of word association. “Have you been before?”
“No. You?”
“Only the inside of the airport. It’s nice.”
She remained silent. Her mirrored reflection belied no emotion.
“Anissa. I …” My explanation died in my throat.
