Don't mind her

I can’t believe I told AJ I’d go with her to the smoothie place. What was I thinking? No, I wasn’t thinking at all. I shouldn’t be going off with some stranger in a busy airport just to get drinks. This seems like a bad idea. Tomorrow, my body will be found upside down in a puddle beside the tarmac. Or I’ll wake up stranded in another country after being robbed blind.

Shut up and calm down, I tell myself. It’s only smoothies. You’re not leaving the airport with her and you’re not going to secluded areas. You passed the shop earlier, so you know where it is. Besides, she’s shorter than you are. Don’t let her energetic personality get to you.

I let out a long, slow breath and keep pace with AJ. Her hair bounces with every step to a silent but peppy beat. So far, this isn’t too bad. All we’re doing is walking side by side.

“If I remember right,” AJ says. “The smoothie place was somewhere around here. At the front of the terminal.”

She gestures to a sign marking the beginning of Terminal B. She runs up and down the hall a couple times, glancing at the various shops. I stay standing by the terminal sign. Pouting slightly, she jogs back to me.

“This is so weird. I swear it was here earlier. I even ate one of the free samples.”

She stands on her tiptoes and continues scouring the crowd. Of course, she would have swallowed the contents from one of those disgustingly sloshy cups.

“Hmm, I didn’t.”

She looks back at me and her eyebrows raise slightly. “Why not? The samples were free.”

I cross my arms and sigh, “The samples were melted.”

“It’s a smoothie,” AJ scoffs. “It’s not supposed to be frozen. How else do you drink it with a straw?”

“It’s not supposed to be soft either.”

This is a pointless argument. I shouldn’t be going along with it.

Thankfully she drops it. “Do you see it?”

“Nope.”

Unlike AJ, I don’t need to put on an over-the-top performance to guarantee the smoothie shop isn’t here.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” whines AJ, voicing my inner thoughts.

“They might’ve closed for the day,” I offer.

It’s a weak explanation, but it’s all I’ve got.

“I guess,” AJ shrugs. “Let’s try searching the kiosk for it.”

Feeling foolish for not suggesting it first, I follow her lead to a brightly lit airport directory.

There’s an old couple in front of us struggling to type in their destination. The man is wearing orthopedic shoes and a button-up shirt tucked into golf shorts with a sagging waist band. The woman has a shirt coated in a grossly excessive number of sequins. Her bejeweled hands clutch a leather purse cavernous enough to fit two small children. They smell like trouble.

“Hey AJ,” I call. “They look busy. Let’s go to another…”

But she’s already approaching the befuddled pair.

“Excuse me,” she smiles. “Do you need any help?”

AJ, please don’t. I silently sob.

“Why, aren’t you such a nice girl?” sneers the woman, rolling her eyes. She flaps her arm at the screen. “We’re perfectly fine on our own. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, don’t mind her,” wheezes the man. He places a shaking hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We’re just having a bit of trouble getting these buttons to work right.”

He taps on the keys, but the touch screen doesn’t register his wrinkled touch.

“Don’t you play along with her,” the woman huffs. She thumps her purse against the kiosk. “We don’t need any help. The machine is probably broken. They don’t make things like they used to nowadays.”

“Um- “attempts AJ.

The woman jams a ruby red nail in AJ’s face.

“Don’t you go poking your nose in other people’s business. It’s a terrible habit. It’ll ruin your chances with the men. Quit treating us like we can’t do anything on our own just because we’re older than you.”

“I’m really sorry,” AJ apologizes. “I was only trying to help.”

“Right,” snorts the woman. “You just keep out of this.”

The man steers his wife a couple steps back. “Oh, don’t mind her.”

“But Jim-“the woman argues.

“Oh, hush now, don’t you bother the girl any longer.”

The woman swings her purse again, smashing the kiosk like a hammer. The screen flickers.

“Jim, I’m done tired with you interrupting me! Ever since the day we got married, you’ve constantly been interrupting me. You don’t ever let me finish a single sentence. And now you’re telling me to let this nobody of a girl talk over me? Why her instead of me, huh?”

“Oh, don’t mind her,” sighs the man to AJ.

“You better mind me!” hollers the woman.

The couple erupts into a shouting match, trying to outdo each other with increasingly vicious insults. Onlooks stop to video the chaos, forming a ring of greedy cameras around the scene. AJ really should have listened to me. I was right about these two being trouble. AJ stands backed up against the kiosk, petrified amidst the drama.

I wave to catch her attention against my better judgement.

She snaps out of her daze and rushes over to me.

“What am I supposed to do?” AJ cries. “I was only trying to help them.”

I eye the squabbling couple. The kiosk has taken several more hits. There are even more flashing phones encircling the couple. This will probably blow up on social media later. Good thing I didn’t get involved.

“I don’t think you can help them.”

“But- “protests AJ. “They were having a hard time typing.”

“There’s another kiosk this way.”

AJ isn’t following me. She instead turns back to watch the fight. The woman doubles over wheezing and the man leans against the kiosk sucking in massive gulps of air. Neither of them has much stamina.

“Let’s go.”

Suddenly, the woman spots us. “Little girl. Yeah! I see you. You go and run along now! We don’t need your help! We’re just fine on our own. See?”

“I’m sorry!” shouts AJ. “I-“

Her lip quivers.

“Quit apologizing,” I whisper to her. “People are filming this.”

The cameras have swiveled ravenously onto AJ, and subsequently me. Heat crawls up across my cheeks. We probably look like a couple in our matching shirts. Too many people are watching us. Even those who aren’t filming are enthralled by the squabble. We need to get out of here.

“Heh,” smirks the woman. Her eyes roll back into her head as she slumps against the kiosk. Her dangerous purse dangles limply from one arm.

“Oh,” huffs the man. “Don’t mind her.”

AJ opens her mouth to respond with something stupid again.

Why can’t you ever keep to yourself? First talking to me and now this? I can’t take it anymore!

Without thinking, I grab her arm and yank her in the direction of the other kiosk. We’re leaving. The situation is a wreck, and any attempts to salvage it would only make things worse. AJ doesn’t resist, plodding silently behind me. Her wrist is surprisingly small. 

Wait. Her wrist.

 I drop her arm and stumble away, slower than I’d like. Heat shoots across my ears. How could I have been so thoughtless?

Idiot!

“Sorry,” I blurt. 

Am I apologizing more for her sake or mine? I want to crawl into a hole and die. My reflection in the windows confirms I’m burning beet red.

AJ stares at the ground, holding her arm. The couple is yelling again in the background. This time at the spectators.

“AJ…” I trail off.

She raises her head, revealing a grin that stretches unnaturally from ear to ear.

“Don’t worry about it! You were only trying to help. Let’s go find that smoothie shop!”

She skips off to the next kiosk, hair swishing back and forth. She’s so fake it hurts to watch. Doesn’t that act tire her out?

“What was the name of the smoothie place?” beams AJ.

“I don’t remember.”

“Me neither.”

We stare blankly at the touch screen. Travelers rush by, filling the silence with empty noise. Guilt and shame broil in the pit of my stomach. AJ’s fingers hover over the screen, still deciding.

“I’ll just search for any drink places. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

All I want is to get this cursed day over with and board my flight. Going far, far away.

She scans the map for a bit, squinting at icons and constantly readjusting the zoom.

“There are lots of coffee shops,” she mutters. “But there IS a smoothie shop in Terminal E.”

Terminal E is far away. Creeping dread gathers, joining my feelings of embarrassment. It doesn't take much effort to guess what she'll say next. 

“Adrien?” she requests. “You mind going all the way to Terminal E?”

My ears are still stinging furiously. There is a right and a wrong answer to that question. 

“Terminal E isn’t too far,” I weakly smile.

“Great!”

Looks like I got the question correct.