He didn’t forget the conversation completely though. After he packed his golf clubs in the back of the SUV last week, he hugged her. The hug wasn’t only to say farewell. He had squeezed as if he were trying to make her whole again.
“I’ll only be gone a week,” he said. “Why don’t you take a few days off work and do something for yourself too.”
He had probably thought she would go to movie or buy herself a new pair of pants at the mall. Instead, Jo drove to the airport and asked what plane was headed south toward the warm sun.
The men behind her break out into hearty laughter. She looks back again. Each man leans back as if whatever was so funny had the power to push them physically backward. Now that was feliz. Jo begins to bend the bus ticket between her fingers. It is silky and thin, so close to tearing at each bend. How far will this take her? Where was she going? Could she just ride all day or would the thick-mustached driver kick her off? She just needed to find a beach and maybe one of those floppy hats the dog-walker had worn. Where did they sell those?