The Layover(4)

I immediately hand over my card.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to check that bag, Miss Weston?” She hands me a boarding pass and eyes my oversized purse. “It looks kind of heavy...” She whispers into her jacket.

“Why do you keep whispering into your jacket? Do you honestly think I have a—” I almost say the word “bomb” and bite my lip. I’m sure security guards will pop out of nowhere and tackle me to the ground at the mere mention of that word.

“No, thank you.” I roll my eyes and head straight for security.

As I hand my documents to the guard, I feel my cell phone buzzing. A text from my older sister:

“Don’t forget I’m picking you up around six-ish for dinner! Sister Day! Yay!”

I sigh.

I don’t have the heart to tell her that I already know about the engagement party, and that she could’ve stopped texting me her “Can’t wait to spend some quality time with you, sis!” ruse weeks ago.

Instead of ignoring her, I text her back. “I won’t forget...”

“Ma’am?” A deep voice suddenly says, making me look up.

“Yes?”

“Are you waiting on something to happen? Is there a reason you haven’t placed that bag on the belt?”

I look over my shoulder and see the desk agent from minutes ago speaking to two security guards, pointing in my direction.

Jesus...

I slide the bag off my shoulder, and before I can set it down, a TSA agent grabs it and takes it over to a table.

Unsurprisingly, when I step through the metal detector, the alarm sounds and announces that I’ve been selected for a “random” security check.

I lift my arms as a woman waves a wand over my body, as she makes extra passes around my stomach.

“I take it you all are just bored today?” I shake my head. “There are plenty of other suspicious looking passengers for you to harass.”

“So, you admit that you look suspicious? Send her through the detector again, Rob!” She yells over her shoulder.

I walk through it two more times and watch as my bag is emptied, stuffed, and re-emptied again. Then they finally allow me to head to my gate.

After meandering through the hordes of holiday travelers and boarding the plane, I realize that I’m really doing this.

I’m really leaving him.





Chapter 2


By the time my plane lands, I’ve realized three things: 1.) I need to hurry up and rewrite my list of resolutions. 2.) Babies should be forever banned from all flights. 3.) Some people think sharing a row means they have to divulge their entire life story to you.

I’ve learned more about the complexities of shoveling cow dung than I’ll ever need to know, thanks to the man who was sitting next to me.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much with my talk, young lady.” He smiles as he stands up. “If you’re ever in California, remember to visit my ranch. I’ll show you how to make the finest manure you’ve ever seen.”

“I will definitely do that...” I wait for him to walk away and look over my shoulder. Several passengers have yet to get off the plane so I’ll wait to get up; my next flight won’t board for another few hours.

Pulling out my phone, I notice that I have new voice mails. Before I can see who they’re from, my best friend David’s face flashes across the screen.

“Hey, David.”

“Hey, David?” He mocks me. “Where are you?”

“Um...” I hesitate.

“Um? It’s Friday and I’m at Starbucks, ready to listen to a week’s worth of ‘Fuck Adrian’ talk. I practically look forward to this every week.”

“What? No you don’t!”

“Of course, I don’t.” He scoffs. “Seriously though, where are you? Are you close by?”

“Is Atlanta considered close by?”

The line is suddenly silent. Then I hear him laughing—laughing hysterically.

“Is that the name of a new restaurant downtown? What street is it on? I’m on my way.”

“Atlanta as in Georgia, David.” My voice cracks a bit.

“What?!”

“I um...I decided to leave Adrian this morning. I don’t want to marry him.”

“Then you could’ve just said you didn’t want to marry him. You didn’t have to fly out of the state to make your point.” He sighs, and then he gets into his overprotective mode. “How long do you plan to be gone?”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” He sounds shocked. “Do you have any money? Did you tell your boss?”

“No...And I kinda told my boss to fuck-off a couple hours ago.”

“Should I assume that Adrian has no idea that you’re in Atlanta?”