Stewardess Barbie does not makeanother appearance. Conjugal Visit Barbie, however, is something I push into the far corner of my mind the moment my alarm goes off and I’m startled awake. My dreams are usually less absurd and more, well,nightmarish.
It takes a few seconds for my bleary eyes to adjust to the dim morning light of the hotel room. To realize my neck doesn’t hurt as much as yesterday. To realize my right arm—I can’t feel my right arm.
Panic courses through me, then confusion when I turn my head and my mouth runs into a mess of hair.
I splutter, freezing momentarily when Barbie groans. She shifts slightly, her body arching against my hip, and then she goes still again. My limb remains trapped under her.
The pillow she placed between us last night is no longer there. I’ve got no idea where it is. Or how she’s still asleep while my alarm is blaring like an obnoxious siren.
Exhaling slowly while I silence my phone, I try to figure out how to extract my arm without waking her up. I’m not kidding about howbiteyshe is in the morning without coffee. I don’t want to experience it in person.
Blowing out another breath, I realize what I have to do. I quickly yank my arm out like a magician would do to a tablecloth underneath a set table of dishes and silverware.
Inertia isnoton my side. Newton’s First Law of Motion is being thrown in my face. Objects will remain at rest unless acted upon by an external force, which happens to be Barbie startling awake.
A yelp escapes from her as she hastily rolls away from me in a fit of panic and falls over the other side of the bed. She lands in a loud thump.
I sit up straight, barely moving an inch when she rises to her feet and groggily… touches her pillow, which she fluffs halfheartedly before she climbs back under the cover and curls up. She’s out in an instant.
What.
“Barbie,” I whisper, and I’m met with a soft whine while she pulls the sheet over her ear. Morning person, my ass. “Barb?—”
She groans into her pillow. “You’re not getting food in your bowl until six-fifty.”
Again,what?
“I just need to make sure you didn’t give yourself a concussion,” I say, and she mumbles something incoherent and pulls the sheet completely over her head. “Come on, Bee. I’ll pick you up another Cuban espresso from Java Hut.”
Dead silence.
I’m about to shake her shoulder when I hear her mumble, “And a donut?”
“Will you swear on your cat you won’t be bitey with me today?—”
“I’m not bitey.” She rolls onto her back and peeks over the sheet with one eye half-opened. “Every morning, you’re always on the offense the moment I answer a call. Even if you wait until seven-fifteen. But it’s okay.” She wriggles back under the cover.“You won’t experiencebiteyfor much longer. I’m putting in my two weeks’ notice.”
“You’re what?”
“Yeah,” she mumbles. “I’m leaving Green Checks by the end of August.”
“You’re actually thinking of quitting?”
Barbie shrugs off my question while her focus remains on her phone.
“You’re not leaving because of me, are you?” That gets her attention. She lifts her head and peers at me.
“No. It’s not because of you.” She sweeps a lock of her hair over her ear. “I have an internship I applied for earlier this year, and I got in.”
“Aninternship?” My brow hikes an inch.
“Yeah. I wanted to do this for so long—” She crams her cell phone into her pocket when the door swings open. A bright smile flits across her lips.
The receptionist we had checked in with shuffles into the room. “Here are your robes and slippers. Your therapists shall be with you shortly.”
“Oh. Of course. Thank you,” Barbie says. “How… uh… stripped down should we get?”
“You can go with whatever you’re comfortable with,” the receptionist responds. “Although, I would recommend taking everything off for a proper full body massage.”
