Let me guess

“Let me guess, you’re in STEM.”

“Yeah. I’m a-“

“Shhh!”

One of AJ’s slender fingers ticks back and forth in chastisement closer than comfort. There’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes.

“I said I wanted to guess.”

“People don’t normally use that phrase literally.”

AJ’s not looking at me. Instead, her gaze rests on our reflections in the passing storefront windows. She catches on to the fact that I’m looking and faces me.

“So, STEM, right? That seems like your sort of thing. Pre-med? Why else would you be such a germaphobe?”

I run my hands through my hair and sigh upwards at the vaulted ceiling of darkened skylights.

“I’m not a germaphobe.”

“I was a little insulted, you know.”

“About what?”

She crosses her hands behind her back and starts taking wider steps, as if mimicking my gait.

“You really don’t have any tact at telling people those kinds of things. So, I’ll do you a favor and be honest.”

“Okay.”

She stops and claps her heel together, grabbing my shoulder with one hand. Somehow, she still manages to stare me down despite having to reach upward.

“You’re clueless. And rude. And you have a way of coming across as a jerk some of the time. You should try to be more careful about how you say things. You’re lucky it was just me, but you could piss someone off in the future. If you haven’t already.”

I brush her hand off my shoulder, but the spot remains troublingly warm. She’s obviously one of those people who constantly make physical contact with others without stopping to think twice. Doesn’t mean I am. This feels more like an invasion of space than a gesture of sincerity.

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

AJ bristles at my response.

“Arggh! I can’t decide if I’m mad at your or not!”

“Mad?”

I point to myself.

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

What’s her deal? If she’s upset, why’s it got to be me? All of this is getting on my nerves. I rub my vacant shoulder again, pushing off invisible particles.

“I don’t get what you’re talking about. Can’t you just say things like a normal person? It’s not like you’re the only one annoyed anyway.”

AJ throws her hand hands up, her ponytail whipping behind her. Lightning flashes beyond the overhead skylights.

“Look at me! If you think I’m that gross, then keep it to yourself!”

There’s a new emotion on her face, one that most people spend their entire lives trying to hide. It’s almost feral. I never said anything like that to her. Is she still talking about the lip balm? The lip balm that I impulsively bought and went out of the way to get just for her. She said it was fine.

“I don’t think that.”

I’m reassuring her, so why didn’t it help?

“Then why did you buy it? And what’s with all the stuff about germs?!”

“It’s just a fact. I was being helpful.”

It is a fact.

Her teeth grit visibly, practically crunching.

“You could’ve said it nicer. Something like, ‘Oh, I can’t help but notice that your lip balm fell on the floor earlier. Would you like me to buy a replacement?’ That would’ve been better.”

She crosses her arms. Uncrosses them then cross them again. Left over right then right over left.

“I wish you didn’t say anything!”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding here…”

“A misunderstanding, ey?”

AJ’s hands plant themselves on her hips and she takes a step closer. I instinctively back up, getting closer to the wall. People go by, minding their business, but we’re drawing attention again. Things are awkward enough without bystanders.

“AJ, listen. I didn’t mean to insult you or anything like that. Airport floors are especially dirty, and I didn’t want you using that after it had been down there. If you want to insist on paying me back or whatever, I won’t stop you this time. Just know that I think you deserve better than that.”

Wordlessly, she stares at me with a fuzzy, unfocused face.

“I mean,” I correct, “I think that everyone should have access to clean stuff.”

An early grave awaits me. Even if I survive today, I think my soul’s life force has been too drained to keep going for much longer.

“Hah,” chuckles AJ. “Hah haha.”

She bends over, laughing almost hysterically to herself.

“What’s so funny?”

AJ straightens up, rubbing her eyes.

“You really are a pre-med student.”

“I never said I was.”

“Then say you’re not.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Hmmm.”

She smirks up at me, all traces of her irate self are gone.

“Why aren’t you going to do that?” she prods.

I walk alongside the wall, running my hand over the small bumps in the paint.

“I’m not going to.”

AJ jumps in front of me, a mix of playful and confrontational.

“That’s because you don’t want to lie. Admit it.”

I maneuver around her, going nowhere in particular except forward. I call out to her from ahead, focusing on a vague landmark in front of me.

“Are you done guessing?”

She’s alongside me in a flash.

“Yep! So, was I right? I was right, wasn’t I?”

Sigh.

“You. You were sort of right.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She gasps, before giving me the chance to elaborate.

“Don’t tell me you’re a grad student or already in medical school.”

My hands slide up my face towards my hair, but I stop myself. I’ve been running my hands through my hair too much.

“No, I’m not either of those. I’m a bioengineering major. I guess I’m on the pre-med track, but I don’t have to go to medical school.”

“You don’t?”

“I could if I wanted to. But I don’t know if I do. Bioengineers don’t need a doctorate.”

“Huh.”

AJ twirls a stray strand of hair around her fingers.

“What do you want to do?” she asks.

“Help people, I guess.”

“That’s very convincing.”

Sarcasm oozes from her voice, metaphorically splattering on the floor.

“I’ve been thinking about working in pharmaceuticals or prosthetics. Something like that.”

“That’s cool! So, what made you want to do that?”

We round a corner, heading into Terminal D’s depths, not that it matters. The way AJ keeps chattering, it’ll make our tongues run dry, but for now she has an endless stream of questions. In a lazy stray cat type of saunter, we keep going nowhere in particular. Not fast but not quite slow either.