4
Cooley shifted her position in the uncomfortable airport chair. She noticed a white couple sleeping, their legs hanging off the ends of the row of three connected chairs, their duffle bags worn and dirty. Cooley figured they must travel a lot. She couldn't imagine falling asleep in an airport. She wouldn't be able to protect her bags if she was 'sleep, and the idea of someone stealing even the smallest of her belongings would get her a one-way ticket with airport security.
Cooley looked down at her watch. Two hours to spare and she had nothing to do. The airport was virtually shut down; she should have been in Atlanta by the time her flight was going to board. All because she forgot to print her boarding pass. Cooley made a mental note to never do that again.
She arrived an hour early, only to find all the kiosk stations at the AirTran station broken and only one ticketing agent, who seemed to be moving at a pace equivalent to a snail. The three people in front of her were becoming restless. The couple next in line walked up to the ticket counter. Cooley wanted to laugh. There in front of her stood a real-life Norbit and Rasputia.
The large woman was loud, making sure everyone knew how tired she was of waiting. She constantly shifted her weight from one overrun flip-flop to the other. Cooley felt sorry for the frail, little man with her. He looked so unhappy. Cooley wanted to tell the woman to shut the fuck up, and tell the man to run as fast as he could.
As soon as the man made a quiet gesture for the woman to calm down, she went off.
“Don't tell me to calm down. Hell, we gon' miss our plane, dealing with this bullshit. But I'd bet you would like that, wouldn't you?” She hissed at her husband.
All he could do was turn his head and sigh. Cooley knew that it couldn't be her. She would have to pull a “Chris Brown” on a woman like that ... and she didn't believe in hitting women.
The couple's turn came. The agent's face dropped, knowing he had a headache headed his way. The agent typed their information in, printed their tickets and proceeded to check their five bags.
“OK, that will be one hundred and ninety dollars,” the tall male agent stated.
“What! Why?” the Rasputia look-alike snapped.
The man in front of Cooley looked down at this watch and huffed. He shifted his weight from his right leg to his left. Cooley knew exactly how he felt.
“Ma'am, airline policy states that your first checked bag is fifteen dollars, a second one is twenty-five, and each additional bag is fifty dollars.”
The woman rolled her eyes. Cooley wanted to scream but remained calm. She still had thirty minutes to get to her gate. She could make it. The reaction on the man's face in front stated that he didn't even have that long to make it to his destination.
“I didn't know anything about that. It didn't say that when I booked the damn flights. I don't think I should have to pay that much to check my bags. Hell, I bought the plane tickets. Y'all always trying to get over on us. That's why your companies are going under.” She rolled her neck while her hand flew around.
“Ma'am, the policy has been in effect for a very long time. It is included in the information you are supposed to read before you accept your ticket, and”âthe man handed her the reservation page she brought with herâ“right here, right on the bottom of your page, it even says it.” The agent didn't budge as the gayness in his voice responded in a nasty/nice tone. That only irritated her more.
“See, this man about to ...” she whispered under her voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear. “Well, I need to talk to a supervisor because that is ridiculous. That's more than I paid for the ticket. And I don't like your bad-ass attitude”
“I told you not to pack all those damn bags to begin with,” the woman's frustrated husband chimed in.
Cooley smirked; he had a little backbone after all.
Rasputia shot him a glare that would scare children.
The agent rolled his eyes. “One moment please,” the agent said, walking over to another booth to call for a supervisor.
“What the fuck!” The man in front of Cooley finally snapped. “I'm missing my flight over this bullshit!”
Cooley couldn't help but smirk; she felt the exact same way.
The woman looked back at the man. She felt no remorse for causing a line of people to miss their flights over her mistake.
The husky man in front of her had on a leisure suit, but his stance showed that he didn't have any quarrels about going at it with her, if need be.
The woman's husband just shook his head. He hoped the man laid a good smack down on his wife.
The gate agent signaled for the woman to come over. He handed her the phone and walked back over to his line of angry travelers.
Cooley looked down at her watch. If she could get her ticket, get through security, and run to her gate in ten minutes, she could still make her flight. Cooley pulled her blue fitted cap off and wiped her forehead.
She glanced over at the woman, who was arguing with someone on the phone. Her livid face let Cooley know she was losing. Cooley smiled. She hoped they made her pay the full amount. Cooley glanced at her husband. His face was borderline angry and irritated, not by the airport, but by his nagging wife.
The agent was overworked and stressed. The man in front of Cooley was going off about having to take another flight. Cooley had to give it to the agent. He was keeping his cool under a lot of pressure. Cooley's boiling point was reaching its peak. Now she was down to six minutes.
“I know you are dealing with a lot, but can I make my flight?” Cooley's turn finally approached. She handed the agent her ID and confirmation number. The agent sighed. “I'm sorry, but that flight is already boarding, but I can get you on another flight. I do apologize.” The man seemed to relax a little at seeing someone who was obviously “family” like him.
Cooley cringed. “How late will it be?”
The agent began to type rapidly. “Well, your final destination is Atlanta. We can get you on a flight at 10:03
A.M.
”
Cooley sighed. She knew she wasn't in a major rush to get to Atlanta, she was just ready to bid farewell to Memphis. “Whatever.” Cooley looked down at the agent's ID tag. “Morris, I see you are dealing with a lot. It's cool.” Cooley flashed Morris a smirk, her deep right dimple setting in.
The gate agent smiled; His eyes went from stressed to relief. Cooley knew it was amazing what a smile could do. A nice smile and deep dimples could melt the heart of almost anyone.
The agent printed Cooley's ticket and handed it to her. “I've also upgraded you to first-class for your troubles,” Morris said as Cooley handed her large suitcase to him.
Cooley pulled her credit card.
Morris shook his head. “Don't worry about it.”
Cooley smiled, showing her deep dimples. “Thank you, man. Hope your day goes better.” Cooley winked as she headed toward security.
Now she was dreading that three hour wait. Cooley's eyes began to shut. She shook her head. Cooley picked up her Gucci book bag and put it on her back. She walked through the bare halls of the Memphis International Airport. The brown walls were unappealing. Something about the AirTran side made that whole side just look cheap.
Cooley made her way to the sad excuse for a food court. Everything was closed, but Backyard Burger was in the process of opening. It was eight in the morning, but the idea of a good Backyard burger didn't sound bad. Something to eat could help her mood.
Cooley walked over to the bookstore across from the food court. She glanced at the table of bestsellers. She picked up a copy of
Eclipse
from the Twilight series. Denise and Carmen were hooked on the series. Cooley thought the movies were all right, but she couldn't bear to be spotted reading a book made popular by teenage girls. Cooley spotted the small section of African American novels. She scanned through the various titles, most dealing with some type of hustler, pimp, or stripper. Cooley didn't know what was with the sudden increase in hood-related books. She picked up
Sleeping with Strangers
by Eric Jerome Dickey and read the inside of the book.
“That's a good book,” a soft voice said.
Cooley turned around to see a cute and petite brown-skinned girl standing behind her. Her green shirt let her know that she was an employee. She looked young, but she had to be at least eighteen, since she was working and not in school. Cooley liked her short haircut. She usually liked girls with long hair, but since Rihanna started rocking hers short Cooley started feeling short, rocker looks on sexy black women.
“Is it? I'm real behind in his books. I think the last one I read was
Chasing Destiny
.”
“Well, this is a series around a hit man. They are really good books, but I suggest reading them in order. That's the first one.”
Cooley nodded her head. “Well, then I guess I will take your advice,
“Great.” The girl smiled as she walked behind the counter.
Cooley picked up a box of Dentyne Icebreakers and a PowerAde. The girl began to ring her purchase up.
“So tell me, Chasity,” Cooley said after reading her nametag. “How can a person go about getting to know you better?”
Chasity looked up, her face covered with surprise. “Um, excuse me?”
Cooley was confused. She knew the girl was flirting with her, or was she? “I was just wondering how a person can get to know you better. You seem to really know your fiction and I could useâ”
“I don't think that's a good idea. I doubt my
boyfriend
would like that.” Chasity quickly put the items in a bag and handed Cooley her credit card and bag.
Dumbfounded, Cooley took the items and walked out the store. Cooley wasn't used to rejection. The girl was cute, but she wasn't all that. Usually Cooley could have pulled her with little effort at all.
Cooley walked into the women's bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror and gasped. It all came back to her. The large scar crossing her left cheek, mostly healed but still with a brown scab over it.
No wonder,
Cooley thought to herself. She pulled out her small tube of Neosporin and dabbed a little on the ugly mark.
Cooley grabbed a bite to eat and made her way back to her gate. More passengers had shown up, the dusty traveling couple still sprawled over the chairs. She took a seat and pulled out her iPod and headphones. She scrolled through the playlist section, trying to find the right playlist to fit her mood.
“This is our gate.”
The familiar voice sent chills down Cooley's spine. She looked up to see Misha walking toward her gate, and next to her was Patrick, the man who not only stole Misha away, but impregnated her in the process.
Misha's and Cooley's eyes met. Patrick looked at Cooley, his smile turning into a glowering stare.
Misha looked as though she had seen a ghost. She looked at Patrick and whispered something to him.
His face didn't change; he nodded his head and stood in the same spot like a tall bodyguard as Misha walked over to Cooley.
“I thought you were already gone,” Misha said as she got closer.
“Missed my flight. So we are on the same flight, I see.”
Misha sighed “I guess so. Look, I just wanted to make sure everything wasâ”
“Misha, you don't have to say anything. Just go be wit' ya boy before his head explodes.”
Misha looked back at Patrick, still standing in the same spot, staring at them. Cooley looked at Patrick. She couldn't figure it out. He was wearing a pair of khaki board shorts and a yellow graphic tee from American Eagle and a pair of sandals. Nothing about him seemed special. Cooley knew her designer jeans and shirt were ten times better-looking than what he had on. Cooley dressed fly whenever she left the house. Just because she was going to be on a plane was no reason to not look good.
Patrick, on the other hand, looked like he had rolled right out of bed and headed to the airport. He didn't look like he belonged next to Misha, who was dressed in a cute pair of shorts and a white blouse that hung off of her shoulders.
“So are we cool?” Misha asked.
Cooley tried to not focus on how beautiful Misha was. Her smooth brown skin had a glow to it. Her long, thick, black hair bounced with any slight movement.
“We're cool.” Cooley realized she was completely focused on Misha. She noticed Misha's eyes glance in the direction of her right cheek. Cooley's body tensed, and she turned her head.
“I see it's looking a lot better.” Misha could feel Cooley's uneasiness. She suddenly wished she didn't say anything. “Well, um, I guess we will see each other around? Maybe we can have a bite in Atlanta sometime ...”
Cooley shook her head and gave Misha a sardonic smile. “Riiiightttt, maybe. Well, you better go be with your boy before he comes over here.” A piece of her wanted him to walk over. She wanted to get him back for the sucker punch he'd landed the day they met. She had never fought over a woman until that day at Misha's dorm room. She made a vow never to do it again.