Seat 2A

by Dela

  I didn’t bother going back to the girls’ text thread. I reached over the passenger seat, grabbed my purse, and headed inside to buy food.

  Austin actually knew boys who wanted to get married. I pondered that obscene idea as I walked through the produce section trying to decide which vegetable to buy. I wondered how old these guys who wanted to get married were. I didn't think Kendal’s age was too old to be single, I just imagined it an age to start considering settling down. I wondered if he wondered about settling down with me when my phone beeped in the deli section.

  Done. I’ll pick you up Saturday at eleven. Now, while I have your attention, what do you want for Christmas?

  You.

  Are you home? I want to willingly give myself to you. Consider it an early Christmas present that keeps on giving.

  Sorry. I don’t accept wieners as gifts. I’m snobby like that.

  Of course you don’t. Lol. I’m getting you something though, non-penis related, so if you don’t tell me then you might have a chance at getting something really bad . . . or more bras . . . the slutty kind. And I WILL make you show them to me.

  I thought you were going to be gone on Christmas.

  Says who?

  Says the paper on your desk I saw.

  You saw the papers on my desk?

  Sort of . . .

  Oops!

  What else did you see?

  Amsterdam and Milan travel arrangements. You’re quite the busy man.

  Those aren’t positives yet. And Thailand was made when you were still with Colby. I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone.

  It’s okay, really. I’m going home for Christmas.

  Jessie, come with me.

  I can’t. I already have my plane ticket.

  I’ll refund you.

  Kendal, I would love to go with you. You know that. But I think I need to go home. It may be the last time I see my grandmother.

  I agree then. You should go home. So you see, it works out okay.

  My phone didn’t stop buzzing. My missed texts were rising in numbers but I left them unattended. I noticed briefly dinner plans between the group chat. If Colby and Bianca were there I definitely did not want to be.

  Do you want to come over for dinner after the hike? I think I want to make meatloaf.

  Manloaf you mean?

  What’s manloaf?

  When a woman makes meatloaf to show a man not only how good of a cook she is but also to secretly confess her love for him.

  Blood drained from my face, embarrassed, but I couldn’t deny it.

  Says who?

  Cosmopolitan.

  You’re reading Cosmo now? I vividly remember Seat 2A making fun of me on a plane for reading that crap.

  Yes, well, that crap sells my clothes now. I had to see who my consumers were. And when a guy sees ‘manloaf’ on a page, he can’t pass that up.

  Perfect! Our first date as boyfriend-girlfriend will be manloaf date so I can inconspicuously admit my love for you, and possibly convince you that I am the best meatloaf maker ever. That’s exactly what I had in mind.

  Woman what are you doing to me?! Can I bring my manloaf too?

  Depends. Could I put ketchup on it?

  That’s a first. Never had a girl ask if she could put ketchup on my privacies.

  Privacies?

  It’s what Daniela calls peoples’ privates. Privacies. I’m rather fond of that word. Anyways, how about you show me how to cook it.

  I had just begun typing my banterish reply when he wrote first.

  Cook the meat, I mean. The meat meat. Not my meat. The meat we eat with our mouths. Ahh damnit, I’m just going to stop while I’m ahead.

  Too late for that.

  If I don’t learn how to cook soon, take-out might kill me. It isn’t as good here as it is in Los Angeles. Too many gluten-free, non-GMO health freaks.

  Well I don’t want you dead.

  So you’ll teach me?

  Of course I will. Now, let me go because no joke I need to buy ketchup. I won’t eat meatloaf without it.

  I’ll call you after work.

  “What kind of girls does Troy like?” Sue asked.

  It was Saturday morning and I had my favorite maroon beanie on, made exclusively by Vargas. I thought of Kendal when I put it on. I smoothed my long strands of caramel hair and reached for my sweater just as Kendal knocked on my apartment door.

  Not too much later, after a quick round of Saturday morning love—the beanie did something to him, as I cleverly predicted—we met up with Gizelle and her posse in the parking lot at Multnomah. Austin, Bianca, Sue, and Colby were with her. Gizelle looked pale, a white film clung morbidly to her skin. Regina told me once that when you’re pregnant you’re sick as a dog. I didn't understand. Gizelle’s belly wasn’t even showing yet. Maybe a little pooch, but she was still rail thin. How could something so small cause so much horrid discomfort?

  Gizelle rolled her eyes as she hopped out. “Sue. I don’t set people up unless I think it would work out. If you don’t quit asking questions then I’ll make something up to scare him off.”

  Sue grunted, chewing her gum. “I didn’t ask that many questions.”

  Bianca, hand locked with Colby’s, threw her head back and laughed. A small stirring in my gut punched me. I was happy for Colby. I just felt completely different than Bianca and wondered what he saw in her other than her rock-hard body.

  “The entire way here, Sue,” Bianca said. She let go of Colby’s hand to pull up her leggings and adjust the hair framing around her face. “Shut up already or you’ll never get married.”

  Bianca was right. I laughed as Colby turned toward me and Kendal. “Hi guys.”

  “Hey,” Kendal replied.

  They held long stares until eventually Colby shuffled his feet, checking to see if Bianca had finished tidying herself up.

  “There he is,” Austin said, pointing to a black jeep. The rugged man inside had long hair and waved to Austin as he passed through to a parking space.

  “I like jeeps,” Sue said.

  “He would like you even more if you didn’t sound so desperate,” Bianca said.

  “I’m not desperate!” Sue argued.

  “She’s right,” Gizelle chimed in, one hand holding her back as she stretched. “Troy is probably more desperate than you, but it needs to stay that way. If he senses desperation he’ll run the other way. Men are stupid like that.”

  “But he is desperate,” Sue said, confused.

  “He’s in denial,” Austin said. “He needs you to feel like he is your one and only.”

  “That won’t be hard,” Bianca surmised. I laughed again.

  “Jessie and I are going to get started,” Kendal interrupted, securing his hand over mine.

  “I’m coming with!” Gizelle hollered, running toward us.

  We crossed underneath the street, walked alongside a stream for a minute until we emerged and saw the bridge in the pictures ahead. It rested high above the ground with a large waterfall behind it. Some of the boulders were snow-capped, but for the most part the path was clear and dry.

  Kendal stopped at the lookout and turned. “So what do you think?”

  “Incredible.” I looked to my right, where Gizelle looked queasy. I searched past her and found a staircase leading up the mountain. “Are we going up there? On the bridge?”

  “The bridge is just a stop. We’re going to go farther.”

  “I might not make it that far,” Gizelle suddenly said. I could see her stomach flex, her shoulders cave in. I knew she was holding in fluids—chunks—that needed to come out. I took a step back, afraid I would be her first barf victim.

  “How come?” Kendal asked.

  “Excuse me,” she said, pivoting fast and running to the side, where a small patch of green poked out from the rocks. Her hands reached for the rocks to steady herself as her body urged itself forward in a brace.

  “Is she gonna do what I think she’s gonna do?” Kendal asked, hi
s nose already twitching through his wall of panic.

  “Look the other way,” I urged. “Last I checked you were no match for a barfing show.”

  He stayed unmoving, eyes wide as bats.

  “If you want any kisses the remainder of the day, please Kendal, look away,” I pleaded again.

  It was instantaneous, the way Kendal turned his back, the way the bile exited Gizelle, the way Kendal’s arm pushed my back and forced us to march up along the marked path leaving Gizelle to her prenatal motherly duties. Austin had arrived and was rubbing her back, so I didn’t feel too bad for leaving her.

  We were over the bridge and looking down when I noticed Gizelle below. She wasn’t squeezing out her lunch anymore, and Bianca was helping fix her hair. I felt I needed to go check on her.

  “We should get back to Gizelle,” I said.

  “She’s fine. She’s got a plethora of people, plus Austin is there. He knows how to handle pregnant women better than any of us.”

  “She’s barfing and sick, she doesn’t have a virus. I really think we should go back.” I started walking back the way we came when Kendal tugged on my arm.

  “Babe, hold on. Look at me.”

  I turned completely so I could see why he was hesitating when I noticed his olive skin had turned pale. My eye twitched and for a second he almost looked green.

  “Kendal, why is your face green?”

  “My face is green?” His voice rose in pitch.

  “Why?”

  “I had no idea I looked that bad,” he half-chuckled. “I suppose it’s because I can see Gizelle sick down there, and I know she’s going to give everyone another show any minute. And I really, really don’t want to be there for that. Can we please not be there for that?”

  Seat 2A had arrived. Completely. Utterly.

  I envisioned us passing each other in the aisle of the airplane after losing our breakfast. I imagined he was thinking the same thing, because a deep, awkward silence fell over us. The Multnomah waterfall was really loud.

  “Alright. Keep hiking or head back for some early manloaf?” I stated. I meant it as a matter of fact, but it came out sounding like I was hungry for his junk. I mean, why not? I did want to see it again. I giggled. “Didn’t mean it like that.”

  He grinned, a primal hunger slipping past his lips. “Manloaf most definitely.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Kendal

  “Sorry, Gizelle, can’t stay. We have a manloaf date!” I yelled as we skidded past them. I squeezed Jessie’s hand tight enough to let her know I was not letting go and I was not stopping.

  Gizelle was back at it again right as we speed-walked past them. Only this time the garbage can was her prisoner and she held onto it for dear life as she waited for the next spill to come.

  “I’m not even going to ask what manloaf is,” she muttered quite miserably and quite in the middle of a nice heave.

  Inside the car, on our way back to my house, I noticed Jessie messing with her bracelet again.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  She broke from her reverie and adjusted her head toward me. “Hmm? Oh, just thinking about Whistler.”

  “What about?”

  She shifted and squirmed a tad before settling back into her chair. “We need to stop by my place to pick up the food from the fridge.”

  “You’ve got it babe,” I said, resting assured that I was going to buy her a new bracelet to replace that old one.

  All the way home I thought about the key to my house that I had made for her. I wondered if it was a stupid-lucky whim or if she would think I was a man slut. I also didn’t want her to think I was proposing; I just wanted her to be able to drop by unannounced. Something about her made me feel secure. I glanced at her in the passenger seat. She had a leg propped up on the dashboard and a hand behind her head. She stayed like that, peaceful, all the way home.

  “I can’t believe Gizelle is having another baby,” Jessie swooned as we walked into the kitchen.

  I set the grocery sacks on the counter. “Yeah, that’s insane.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  I chuckled, briefly imagining Jessie having babies as I took out all the ingredients. “Are you in a rush to have babies or something?”

  “What? No . . . no!”

  “That makes two of us.” I turned to place the ketchup in the fridge when I noticed she had grown quieter. “So—” I began, changing the subject out of necessity. “I have something for you.”

  “You do?” Her voice perked up a bit.

  I pulled the key out of my pocket and neared her.

  “What’s this?” she asked, staring down at my hand in front of her.

  “My early Christmas present.” She didn’t say anything. “It’s a key for my place,” I chuckled gingerly, lifting my hand a bit so that she would take it.

  She stared at it, unmoving. “You want me to move in?”

  Someday, yes . . . after the will . . . after you’ve found out why I’ve kept it a secret. “Well . . . no . . . I was sort of thinking you can have a key for when I go out of town to catsit my cat.”

  “You don’t have a cat.”

  “I know. But what if I did?”

  “You . . . want a cat?”

  I shrugged. “Fine, I admit. I look at cat photos on Instagram in my spare time. After watching you smile so certainly in the U-Haul—at cats—and seeing you share that with Colby, I was jealous. I wanted to understand what the big hype was about . . . oh Jessie, I got sucked in cat world so hard.”

  She chuckled gingerly, easing the slight nervousness from her body, but stayed silent. I went back to occupying myself with the groceries, unloading and sorting. She placed the key inside her purse.

  “I don’t really want a cat, though,” I said. “The litter box smells.”

  Jessie wrapped her arms around my waist and gave me a quick kiss. “Thanks, Kendal. I would be honored to watch over your pretend cat.”

  I grinned, licking the taste of her off my lips. “You’re welcome.”

  “But now that you’ve admitted this, don’t be surprised if you come home and we have a cat.”

  I twisted quickly, pinning her down with one hand, tickling her with the other. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Her stomach clenched tight as she wiggled to get free, but it only made me latch onto her tighter. Her laugh exploded, looping around us in threads, when she squealed, “Watch me”.

  Such power laced in that defiant threat that I lost control.

  I needed her right here. Right now.

  I spun her back to face me so fast her hair whirled around us as I made for her cheeks and brought her lips to mine. Jessie could buy a hundred cats and have them all here in my house, waiting for me to get home with all their fur and litter and furniture-tearing claws, and the woman could still do no wrong in my eyes.

  We tore off each other’s clothes, warming the marble floor with our bare backs in seconds. I felt her first before entering, a slick heat streamed out her opening. My body jerked, needing to dissolve the pressure pounding in my groin. She lifted her legs around my back as her hands scaled my body, pressing me into her as I slid in.

  “So are you ready for Thailand? You leave Christmas Day, right?” she asked after sex, retreating back to her spot in the kitchen, adjusting her waistline.

  “Yeah. Thailand for four days and then I go straight to Milan. We have a new store opening up.”

  “That’s right, I remember now.” She joined me at the island and leaned her perky ass against it.

  “I’m home for three weeks and then off again to Amsterdam.”

  “Is that normal? To travel that much?”

  “Are you worried about something?”

  “It’s just that, I sort of had something planned for us the first week of January.” She shook her head and looked away. “It’s okay. I can cancel it.”

  “You have something planned for us?”

  “Yes, I know, it’s sort of
childish.”

  “It’s sexy.” I unfolded my arms and circled them around Jessie. “Come here.” She lowered her head between our bodies. I pressed a finger to her chin and lifted it up. “Listen, when I get home from Milan in January I’m going to have something big planned for us.”

  She nodded and lowered her head again. A faint chuckle emerged from her mouth, as if she’d suddenly thought of a secret joke. “That’s too far in the future. Let’s talk about now. We’ve got manloaf to attend to, and the best way to attend to manloaf . . .” She pointed to my crotch, replacing her frown with a sexy grin. “. . . is with your pants off.”

  I shook my head incredulously. “I’ve only just put them on! You’re doing things to me woman.”

  I was complying like a good pupil and started undoing my pants when my phone inconveniently rang across the room. I wobbled over to it, hopping on one foot, stripping the jeans off my other leg. “Sorry babe, it’s my mom.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as she giggled. I knew I looked like an idiot.