“You dropped this,” he said, holding up the hacky sack I was borrowing from my mom. The way his large fingers wrapped around it made the little red-and-yellow-striped beanbag look smaller than usual.
Embarrassment washed over me.Grown women don’t carry around hacky sacks,I admonished myself silently. High school skateboarders circa 1998 did that, at least, according to the movies I’ve seen. “Oh. Thanks.” I reached out to retrieve it and his thumb grazed mine. I stared down to avoid making eye contact. His thumbnail was rounded at the top. Neatly trimmed. No evidence of biting or gnawing.
My mom was a chronic nail-biter, especially at that point, having recently quit smoking. I learned that you could tell a lot about a person by looking at their thumbnails.
He let go of the hacky sack and stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his hoodie. “I’m sorry, but I overheard you talking to that lady, and,well,” he replied. “I’ve got seat 34A. It’s all the way in the back of the plane. I could switch with your mom, if you think she’d be okay sitting alone back there.” I looked up at him and noticed his eyebrows. They were light brown, almost amber. They looked friendly. Sincere. “It’s a window seat.”
I shoved the hacky sack into the pocket of my fleece and shrugged. “I guess I could ask her.”
He nodded. A woman standing beside Jacinda at the counter made a gate announcement through her microphone. “Good morning passengers traveling aboard JetBlue flight 842 with nonstop service to Oranjestad; we have a full flight here this morning and space in the overhead compartment is limited. Anyone wishing to check their carry-on item may do so free of charge. Please come to the desk if you would like to check your carry-on item free of charge,” she repeated.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.” He nodded at the line of people, waiting to take their turns to complain at the desk.
“My mom’s just over there,” I said, and gestured to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking a massive airplane wing. I raised a hand to give her a little wave, and she smiled back at me. Even from a distance, she looked like the past few weeks had aged her something awful. “I’ll be right back.”
He smiled. Perhaps if we’d been two other people in a different place at a different time, that smile would have arrested me. But in John F. Kennedy Airport at 5:45 in the morning, I was only able to notice that his teeth were really straight.
I went over to my mom. “Handsome,” she said.
I sat beside her. “I guess,” I replied.
“So, how’d it go? Did you switch our seats?”
“I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, the plane is full and Jacinda over there is not in the mood to be of much help to me. But that guy who I was talking to must have overheard us because he offered to switch seats with you. Itwould separate us, though. He’s got a window seat but it’s in the back. Probably by the bathrooms.”
Mom turned to face me. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her lips pursing together in the same wicked grin I’d known my whole life. “That piece of hot sex wants to switch seats with me?”
“Jeez, Mom!” I seethed. “Will you please keep your voice down?”
She laughed, and it made me ache just a little knowing that the day would come soon when I might begin to forget the sound of her laughter. “What? I call it like I see it.”
I shook my head. “You’re not old enough to be excused for this kind of behavior,” I joked.
“Like hell I’m not. I’ve got the AARP card to prove it. Anyway, you tell him, yes, I will gladly change seats with him.”
“To sit in the back without me? Next to some rando and the john? Really?”
“Yes, really. He’s cute. And if I move, you get to sit with him.”
“He could be a serial killer.”
She pointed in his direction. “Does a serial killer check his carry-on bag to help make space on the plane for other people’s crap?”
I looked over. Yep, it appeared he was doing something I would never in a million years be gracious enough to do.
“Could be a bag full of body parts,” I said.
“Only one way to find out, Pretty Girl. You tell him yes and thank you.” She took my hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry about me. I have a book to keep me company. Plus, it’s not a bad thing putting an old broad close to the bathroom.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Do it, before I make a scene.”
“A scene?”
“I just… I feel a song coming on.” She grinned, and cleared her throat.
“Okay, okay! I’m going,” I said.
