The lights were dim in and around Gate C, Section 12 of Griffiss International Airport, dim enough to make you want to sleep. The chairs, however, did pose a problem—hard, plastic, stubbornly unyielding, and a rather unsavory shade of green. A woman in her twenties tried her best to get comfortable anyhow. The man next to her placed his hand on her convex stomach.
“Babe, you’re fidgeting,” he said.
“Sorry. Just restless,” she replied. She sat up with a sigh.
“You want me to get you something?”
“Attention, passengers of Delta flight 217 to Washington D.C. Due to inclement weather, there will be a departure delay ranging from one to two hours—“ the attendant’s voice continued over the cacophony of groaning “—until ground crews can deice the plane. In the meantime, please enjoy some complimentary appetizer plates at Raggio’s Grille, located in Section 10. We thank you for your patience.”
“Lovely,” she huffed. She got up and stretched, her belly playing peek-a-boo from under her shirt. “I don’t know if I can handle this for another two hours.”
“You and me both. At this rate we could’ve just drove.” He watched her as she ran her hands through her dark, kinky hair. She was beautiful, even if she didn’t feel as much at six months pregnant.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she murmured. He nodded at her as she walked-wobbled away. She wasn’t quite here. Understandably so—they had returned to her small hometown of Eccentric Milk, NY to bury her mother. She was a rare woman, with greenish-gray eyes that shined out of her brown skin. They had a way of seeing through you—there was no point in lying to Mama, she already knew. This would be their first child. Perhaps she would have her grandmother’s eyes.
--written by Lauren Jackson