The Woman in 3B - Eliza Lentzski Page 0,79

I’d been counting down to when I could see Anissa next.

Gemma was already standing at the line of sinks when I exited my bathroom stall. “It’s perfect. Like, absolutely perfect,” she effused. “You could complete the Mile High Club task with Anissa on Wednesday, and I’m sure someone’s going to puke before the end of the month. I’m actually surprised it hasn’t happened yet.”

Gemma grabbed an extra paper towel from the dispenser and had it ready for me. “I wonder how much money you’re going to win,” she mused. “I’ve never heard of anyone completing all the challenges before; you’re going to be, like, a flight attendant legend.”

“Nothing’s a done deal,” I finally spoke. “I’m not going to count my chickens before they’ve hatched.”

I looked up from washing my hands when a stall door behind me opened. The movement in the mirror’s reflection drew my attention, but I instantly froze when I realized I knew the woman who’d been in the bathroom stall. Water continued to rush out of my sink’s faucet and swirl down the drain.

My tongue felt heavy in my mouth. “I-I didn’t think you were flying today.”

I watched the woman’s reflection in the mirror as she approached the empty sink beside me to wash her hands.

“A colleague called in sick,” she said calmly. Coolly. “I’m going to Denver today.”

“Mile High City,” I stupidly recited, as if playing a game of word association. “Have you been before?”

“No. You?”

“Only the inside of the airport. It’s nice.”

She remained silent. Her mirrored reflection belied no emotion.

“Anissa. I …” My explanation died in my throat.

She shook the excess water from her hands back into the sink. “I have a flight to catch,” she said. Her tone was tense and dismissive.

She didn’t bother drying her hands before exiting the women’s bathroom.

I stared after her. I knew I should have run after her, chased her down the entire terminal if it came to that, to try to explain what she’d overheard. But my feet were stuck.

“That was her?” Gemma said in a voice little more than a whisper.

I tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in my throat. I couldn’t speak, so I nodded.

My friend looked close to tears. “I ruined it.”

“No, you didn’t,” I said when I was finally able to speak. “I did this all myself.”

+ + +

My phone calls went straight to her voicemail. She wasn’t responding to my texts. I had her home address, so I could have stood in her front yard with a boom box, Say Anything style, but I probably would have had the cops called on me.

I couldn’t be angry with Gemma for talking publicly about the bingo card. The only person I could be angry with was myself. This was my fault. I was the one in the wrong. I’d used Anissa to get a few steps closer to the game’s winnings. All I could do was apologize for the circumstance under which we’d met. But if I was correctly interpreting her refusal to answer my calls or reply to my text messages, she wasn’t accepting my apology.

She couldn’t ignore me forever, however. On Wednesdays she flew out of Detroit to Philadelphia, and I would be on that flight.

I stood in the first exit row in First Class, not wanting to appear too eager to pounce on Anissa the moment she stepped onto the plane. I was in the wrong; I could admit that. I’d had plenty of opportunities to come clean about the bingo game, but I’d been equal parts embarrassed and ashamed. The game was only a means to an end—an end to my student debt—and I needed to make clear that what I was feeling for her was real and not part of those juvenile pranks.

I waited with an emotional rock in my stomach as the First Class passengers boarded the plane. I did my best to smile as each passenger passed through the cabin door and found their seat. My stomach flip-flopped each time a dark-haired woman boarded the plane. Anissa was typically one of the first to board, and I became more concerned as the plane filled up and seat 3B remained empty. Had she called in sick to avoid me?

A nondescript man in a dark blue suit boarded the plane and stopped within the first few rows to place a roller bag in the overhead bin Anissa typically used. I slipped out of the exit row and maneuvered my way around other boarding passengers to reach the