“Fuck. I should’ve said which street.”
“It’s okay. A little water won’t hurt me.”
But after he got her settled under the booth’s protective tent with a bowl of soup, she started shivering. Soaked to the skin. As if May had needed one more shitty thing to happen to her.
Balancing an empty box against the edge of the table, he started packing jars of honey into it. “They wouldn’t let you on the plane?” he asked.
“No.” Her mouth puckered into a fist. “The TSA website says that if you lose your ID, they can ask you some questions and if you answer them right, they’ll let you through security. But what it doesn’t say is that the airlines have their own separate policies. The woman at the airline counter said I couldn’t check in without ID unless I had a police report.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s the rules, you know? But I think it’s okay. If I can just log in to the airline website, I can use the credit card number to change the ticket to later today, and then I’ll check in online and it’ll all be fine.”
“How’s it fine?” He paused, a jar of honey in hand. “Don’t you have the same problem?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. If I went straight to TSA without checking in—which I can do, because I don’t have any luggage—then they’ll ask me some questions about my identity to confirm whatever is in their databases, and I’m home free. It’s because I went to the airline counter to get boarding passes that I ran into trouble, and by the time I was done figuring all that out with the lady at the counter—they have a special line for people with problems, and of course it was nine miles long and so slow—I’d missed my flight.”
He put the jar in the box and heard glass crack, realizing too late he’d forgotten to be gentle with the packing. And that his heart was hammering in his chest, his body full of restless anger on May’s behalf.
Deep breath. Calm.
He visualized Lake Superior, but it didn’t do much for him.
“Stupid fuckers,” he muttered.
“And I tried to change my ticket at the airport, but—”
“But she wouldn’t let you do it without a credit card. And if you’d let me give you five hundred bucks in cash, you wouldn’t be here right now, but you wouldn’t take it, so here you are.”
“Kind of.”
She sounded chastened, which made him feel guilty because he’d been hassling her and it wasn’t her fault. He knew what it was like not to want to be indebted to people.
“The airline policy is horseshit. I hope you reported that woman to management.”
“She was only doing her job.”
How like May to be understanding about the airport employee who’d kept her from going home to her family. He bet she’d never mouthed off in public to anyone in her life.
“What are you up to?” she asked.
“Putting away the honey.”
“Is the market over soon?”
“Not until six, but as soon as Amanda gets back from lunch, we’re leaving.”
Her forehead furrowed.
“Amanda runs the booth. I just kind of squat here and sell soup and honey.”
“We don’t have to leave because I’m wet. I’ll dry.” She shoveled another spoonful of soup into her mouth. “This is warming me up already. It’s wonderful.”
“Thanks. It’s no big deal to leave early. There aren’t many customers anyway.”
“But that means every sale matters even more.” She reached for a jar of his honey and turned it over. “Especially when the honey costs thirty-five dollars.”
She surveyed the rows of honey still left on the table. “Did you ever think you might sell more if you charged less for it?”