This is fine

Since neither of us have a gate to go back to, we’ve been wandering around the terminal. The departures board lists most of the flights as canceled or delayed. People are scrambling around trying to adapt to the situation. The rain is still coming down hard, washing over the expansive windows in sweeping waves.

AJ skips over to the window and presses her hands up against the glass. Her reflected form ripples back and forth with the cascading torrent like a candle flame.

“Woah. Looks like a waterfall.”

“Yeah. It does.”

She smushes her face up further, craning her neck to see something down on the tarmac. The weather only seems to energize her.

“Take a look at this.”

My flickering reflection shakily joins hers in the window. The glass is cool to the touch as I slide my fingers against the pane.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you see it?”

I cup my hands around my eyes but all I can make out are hazy forms through the liquid curtain. The only definite objects are the airplanes.

“See what?”

AJ jabs her hand near my nose, tapping the glass with her index finger, catching me off guard.

“Right there. Can’t you see the light? I think there’s someone down there.”

I squint harder, following the line from her pointing hand.

“The yellow light? The one that’s moving?”

A one soft yellow light bobbles up and down the tarmac, disappearing and reappearing with each new falling sheet of rainwater. In the downpour, its glow is disconnected from its source, taking on an ethereal aura.

“Might be a one of those luggage carts,” I suggest.

“You think?”

AJ’s reflection inches closer to mine as she peers deeper into the gloom. I flicker my gaze to her, away from the outside. Her eyes are shifting between widening and squinting, tracking the light. Lighting flashes, striking out on the tarmac and AJ’s palms press harder against the glass. The shimmering orb has entranced her completely.

“You’re like a moth.”

She pulls away from the window, hands lifting off the glass.

“Hey? What do you mean by that?”

I tuck my hands into my pockets and shrug. 

“You know, you’re like a moth. Moths are obsessed with lights. Whenever they see one, they can’t stop trying to touch it.”

“And? So what? I don’t see a problem with that. And if I really were a moth, then I’d be more interested in the lights inside because they’re closer.”

She goes back to the glass and clicks her tongue in frustration.

“Look what you did, now I lost it.”

AJ searches for some time through the violent screen of tumbling water. At a loss, she throws up her hands in defeat and strolls away from the window.

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

“What about the light? Don’t you want to keep staring out the window?”

I know my tone is sarcastic, but I don’t mean it in a bad way.

“Nah. This moth is officially done.”

I can’t help but grin at how brazenly she accepted the label.

“Officially?”

AJ tosses her hair over her shoulder with a self-satisfied smirk.

“I’m more of the official here, aren’t I?”

“On what?”

“You said so yourself.”

“If you’re saying I get to decide who’s the official, doesn’t that make me the expert?”

AJ tugs her backpack straps and saunters several paces ahead of me, rotating back around with her characteristic smile.

“Quit confusing things and hurry up. We’ve only got so much time. Remember?”

As we leave the windows, I glance back over my shoulder. The rushing water obscures the view of the tarmac. Not a single glimpse of light. Our wavering reflections stand out against the dark sky, shrinking the further away we go. Our sticky white handprints remain.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“Exactly.”

We pass some empty seats by an abandoned gate. AJ meanders over and plops her bag down to yank out her sweatshirt.

“Wait a second. It’s cold.”

“I don’t mind.”

I keep a straight face, but AJ has no idea of how happy she’s made me. If I had brought a jacket, I would have put it on in a heartbeat. At long last, that taunting Sliced Melon crop top’s true form will be covered again. I’d given up after a while, considering I couldn’t ask her to cover the embarrassing shirt and resigned myself to my fate. Finally, I’ll be free.

AJ maneuvers her pony tail out from inside the hoodie. Now that we’re not matching anymore, the atmosphere doesn’t feel as tense. She plucks her lip balm out of her bag and pops the top off.

“What are you doing?”

She freezes, the lip balm not yet at her lips.

“Putting on lip balm? What else?”

The memory of her things scattered across the airport floor flashes through my mind.

“Don’t use that.”

AJ shifts her weight to one hip, still holding the lip balm in midair.

“Excuse me?”

“The lip balm. You dropped it on the floor earlier. It’s unsanitary.”

“The cap was on,” she shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

Does she not have any sense of hygiene? Just thinking about all the germs crawling over that… Her glare is burning into me, her eyes demanding I cease my judgement.

“What? It’s not that bad. My lips are chapped anyway.”

I avoid her glare and focus on our surroundings. A travel essentials store catches my eye.

“AJ. Wait right here.”

With that I jog off towards the store but jerk to a halt and zoom back to AJ.

“Don’t use the lip balm. Please. I’ll be back.”

She gives me a funny face, a mix of suspicion and amusement.

“Oookay.”

Click. AJ deliberately slides the lip balm shut and tucks it into the side compartment of her backpack. Crossing her arms, she settles down into a chair. She pulls one knee over the other, her anklet shakes back and forth, a pendulum.

“I’m waiting.”

“Right.”

I nod and dash to the travel store. The place is busy with people scrounging for necessities after their flights being cancelled. I hop from aisle to aisle, the products all blurring together in a mix of bright packing and brand names.

“Hygiene, hygiene, hygiene,” I mutter to myself.

There it is. I weave through a couple of people to reach what seems to be lip balm. Several options dangle from the rack. Which one is the right one? There are too many choices, even for a small airport convenience store. I’m royally screwed. Or perhaps I was already screwed the moment I witnessed the lip balm hit the floor. I snag what probably isn’t the right one but looks close enough. It’s the thought that counts anyway. Only when paying, do I realize how much of a fool I’m being. But I’d look like an even bigger one if I left the line after waiting behind several people.

“That all?” smacks the cashier through a thick wad of chewing gum.

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be $12.99.”

The numbers hit like a load of bricks. That much for lip balm? The woman behind me coughs, urging me to hurry up. It’s the mother of the dinosaur jacket kid, to my dismay. I can hear the snotty brat sucking on gummy bears from behind his mother’s legs. He’s watching. And probably sticking out his tongue too.

I swipe my debit card and take the lip balm in a daze, making sure to shoot the kid a dark glare on my way out. That much for lip balm? Do girls normally pay that much? Is this just airport price inflation? How many smoothies could I buy for that price? How many bottles of water?

AJ jumps to her feet upon noticing my approach. Her focus never leaves the plastic bag in my hand.

“Took you long enough. Where were you?”

I hold my arm straight out ahead of me. Letting the bag dangle between us, I stare straight down and fight the growing heat of embarrassment.

“Here. Take it.”

Puzzled, AJ gingerly slides the bag out of my fingers, plastic crinkling. A soft gasp escapes her lips as she extracts its contents.

“You didn’t. You got me a new lip balm?”

A sly grin slinks over her astonishment.

“Are you that much of a germaphobe?”

I snap my head back up.

“At least I’m not unhygienic. Your lip balm was on the floor. The floor! That’s disgusting.”

AJ tears off the packaging, ignoring my comment.

“Thanks.”

“Oh.”

I swallow. My throat feels prickly and tight from the outburst.

“You’re welcome.”

Pop. She uncorks the cap and takes a whiff of the fragrance.

“Sorry if it’s the wrong one,” I apologize. “I didn’t know what type you had exactly and-“

“No.”

She applies it in a practiced motion.

“This is fine.”