Sweet Satisfaction

Mary Ellen always had my back whether or not she liked my relationship with Branch. “Thanks for the offer, but I have the memories, unfortunately .”

“I bet you could still change your flight. Why don’t you fly back and we’ll spend our this week together—like we should have planned all along before Branch hijacked it. It’s just not the same without you here .”

Mary Ellen’s words struck a guilty nerve. She was right. I shouldn’t have planned a post-graduation vacation with my boyfriend. I should be with my best friend .

I sighed. “I have to go. My flight is boarding for Brownsville. I just wanted to see if you made it to Myrtle Beach. Tell the girls I said, hey .”

“Ok, but call me when you get to the resort. And good luck.” She hung up, and I stood facing the gate, realizing for the first time that the flight was full .

While I was on the phone with Mary Ellen, the small waiting area had accumulated college students from all over the country, with only one thing on their minds: a weeklong party .

I found an open seat and waited for the desk attendant to call my row. I only needed to make it through this one little flight, and then I’d be on my way to the resort. I could sort things out there. The beach, sun, and a fruity drink were calling my name .

“Passengers waiting to board flight two-two-eight-one with nonstop service to Brownsville, we apologize for the inconvenience, but the flight has been overbooked.” The murmurs around me were almost loud enough to drown out the rest of the announcement .

“If we call your name, please step up to the podium and we’ll help you make arrangements to reach your final destination .”

I reached for my ticket and clutched it in anticipation for the list of bumped passengers .

“Alex Bishop, Jodie Phillips, and Jorge Ramon please approach the ticket desk .”

Relieved, I tucked my ticket back into my bag .

They weren’t finished. “And passenger Kaitlyn Sinclair. We need you to check in as well .”

Shit. I had been sorted onto the short list of bumped passengers. I gathered my carry on and approached the desk .

“Hi. I’m Kaitlyn Sinclair. You called my name .”

“Yes. You’ve been reassigned to another flight to Brownsville,” the woman at the counter reported .

“Ok. When does that flight leave ?”

She typed furiously on the keyboard. “You’re in luck. Since it’s a heavy vacation time, it’s basically like a shuttle service to Brownsville. There is another flight in ninety minutes .”

That didn’t seem too bad. “All right.” I didn’t have much choice .

“And we have a food voucher for you.” She beamed at me. “It’s five dollars and you can use it anywhere in the airport .”

That wouldn’t even cover the cost of a muffin at the food court. I took my new boarding pass and the not-so-generous voucher, and returned to my seat .

I had to remind myself that even if Branch hadn’t dumped me, I would still be traveling to South Padre by myself. He had bought his airline ticket a month before I did. Maybe I should have realized then that he didn’t care whether I was on this trip. He always liked his independence. If we had a date, he’d ask me to meet him there. He was the kind of guy who would rather go to a movie without me, than wait two hours for me to get out of class .

“Attention passengers traveling to Brownsville. We will begin boarding in twenty minutes. Please have your boarding passes ready.” The loud speaker crackled overhead .

Finally.

Four

Kaitlyn

W hen the plane came to a complete stop, I wasn’t expecting to disembark down a flight of stairs and onto the concourse. The Brownsville airport was small—extremely small. I slung my bag on my left shoulder and descended the stairs. I inhaled the warm Texas air. Ok, maybe salt breezes weren’t that far away .

The flip-flop girls from my flight giggled as we crossed the tarmac. I thought I overheard them discussing cocktails and something about body shots .

“Ladies, wait up!” The flask guys pushed past me, sending one of the cola bottles in the air .

“Hey!” I yelled as the lid slipped off and the pungent concoction washed down the front of my jeans .