I DIG INTO my carry-on bag in the back of the car, yanking off my heels and sliding my feet into the soft ballet flats the mysterious intern packed for me. I squeal when I find a pair of sloth-patterned pajama pants and slide those on underneath my skirt, which I then shimmy off as we coast through the light traffic en route back to the private runway.
By the time I reach the jet, I’ve transformed from respectable business maven into a sloppy Abercrombie model…with a killer bag. As soon as the flight attendant tells me I’m allowed, I whip out my phone and start up a video chat with the Foof group.
Only Chloe and Esther answer, and Esther is back lit from the bar so she’s more of a fuzzy presence. “My family is so miserable,” I tell them.
Chloe mimes giving a hug. “I forgot today was the big fancy birthday party.”
I roll my eyes. “The Colonel got judgmental when I ordered WINE. One glass!” I hold up a finger to the lens.
Esther leans close to the screen. “What did they serve, do you know? Was it any good? I’d kill to find out their profit margin on a house wine.”
“I did not take the opportunity to ask for the sommelier,” I deadpan. I groan and let my head drop back on the headrest.
“I’m surprised how good the connection is from your fancy airplane,” Chloe says, munching on something white and flaky.
I tilt my head to stare at her. “What on earth are you eating?”
She holds it up to the screen. “It’s hard tack. I made it myself. I’m doing research.”
“Hard tack?” Esther fake gags and then steps off screen to pour a drink.
Chloe nods. “My next hero is going to be a lowly soldier and not an officer or anything.”
“Oh my god, Chlo, please don’t go full method and give yourself scurvy trying to write about hunger.”
She shakes her head. “I promise, I won’t. But hey. You look like you need a hug.”
I nod. “I really fucking do. Work is just bananas right now. All I wanted to do today was hang out with those kids on the field trip at work but I had to take meetings the whole day. The whole day!”
Esther pops back on screen, one eyebrow raised. “Field trip? Am I hearing that you spent time today with Professor Pout?”
“Who?”
Chloe claps her hands. “That’s what we’re calling your grouchy crush. Esther says he liiiiiikes you.”
I roll my eyes. “He can’t stand me. Which, as you know, is a huge trigger for me. Nobody hates me apart from my own family, damn it!”
“So you didn’t win him over yet?” Esther laughs and leans her elbows on the bar. She must have me propped against a tap.
“I didn’t even have a chance to talk to him. But I’m sure he’ll be excited about our debrief conversation tomorrow.”
“You’re gonna de-brief him all right. Even if he wears boxers!” Chloe snorts.
“Good one, Chloe.” Esther gestures to give her a high five through the screen.
They tease me for a few more minutes before Esther gets slammed with customers and Chloe’s husband comes home from work. “I gotta go try to talk to him,” she says, crunching the last bite of her hardtack. “See you at the next Foof meeting?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say as she hangs up. I wonder if she realizes how truly I mean those words, how very vital it is for me to be there with people who listen to me, who see me, who notice all the ways I try so hard. Without my Foof ladies, I drown in the voices of my family. I need my friends in Pittsburgh to help me remember what’s real.
I feel that choking, sweaty approach of tears and I shake my head rapidly. I reach in my bag to see what else the intern shoved in there and purr in delight when I find a bag of apple chips. “I freaking love these things,” I mutter, reaching in to the crisp, cinnamony treats.
My mom used to pack these for outings because they were so light weight. I remember her doling them out to me and my siblings. She made her own, I think, dehydrating them in the oven in our on-base housing. I love that Audrey and the intern knew to stick them in my bag for a treat.
Nestled below the apple chips are Shane’s notes about the field trip. I smile at their neatly typed bullets about community awareness and their plan to ask one of the teachers to join the Vinea focus group.
I wonder if they’re thinking of inviting AJ to the group. I sort of doubt it. The two of them didn’t hit it off when they first met. Not that I hit it off with AJ, either. I chuckle at Chloe’s joke about de-briefing him. He definitely seems like the sort of guy who wears plain white briefs beneath those neatly pressed teacher-slacks.
Why doesn’t he like me? I was obviously frazzled in that meeting when I initially said we weren’t a good fit for a middle school field trip. I sigh, thinking about all the wisdom I’ve ever heard about first impressions.
I suppose I don’t have time to worry about AJ Trachtenberg and his early notions about me. I’m on the brink of a public stock offering. I have meetings from sun up until sundown, and then I have shit to read all night to prepare for the next day’s meetings. So why can’t I get him out of my head?
The plane lands in Pittsburgh and I feel overwhelmed for a moment, not sure what comes next. Did I drive my own car to the airport? How am I getting home? Thankfully I see a woman waving a sign with my name on it and I take a few minutes to marvel that I’ve become one of those people who has a professional driver meeting her at the airport. With a sign and everything.
I step into the back seat of the car, laptop fired up, ready for the evening’s reading all snuggled in my sloth pajamas. And yet my thoughts keep drifting to a pouting science teacher and all the ways I want to make him approve of me.