My head is starting to pound, so I put my iPad away and shoot the second half of my cup of coffee. I lean my head against the cool glass of the window next to me until I feel slightly better.
I decide now is the time to try and make myself look halfway human. I unbuckle my seat belt and grab my bag from the cabinet and head towards the back of the plane. When I walk in the bathroom, I am dumbfounded. This is a real freaking bathroom. Like better than my bathroom back home. Whoa.
I quickly shut the door and set my bag on a stretch of granite countertop. I unzip my bag and retrieve my makeup kit. All it takes is one quick look in the mirror to know I look like hammered horse shit. Today, I will be pulling out the stops so they don’t think I’m an escaped mental patient instead of a highly sought after registered nurse.
I lay out my makeup in order of operations. Hey, I have a logistical mind. First to bat is the shimmery concealer because those are some big steamer trunks under my eyes. Then I add a little tinted moisturizer to even out my complexion, which is still looking a little gray. How Aunt Mable is fine I will never know. She’s a machine. And looks amazing doing it! Next up some powder and a sweet peach blush. I round it out with a shimmery nude eyeshadow and black mascara. It’s not great, but it will have to do.
I toss all the makeup back in my bag as I go. I grab my brush, bobby pins and some hair spray next and make my bun look school marm professional on top of my head. I have a black suit of skinny slacks and a tailored blazer with a little kick out on the back. I match that with a white silk button down, stockings, and black pumps. I’m feeling pretty fantastic until I walk back out into the cabin.
“Jesus Christ, who died?!” Aunt Mable shouts and I wince when my brain seizes from the trauma of the shrill noise.
“No one. I was just getting ready for my interview. You know, so I look good?” I shrug.
“This is not New York, child. Go back in there and put on the clothes you already had on,” She tells me sweetly.
“Are you sure?” I ask. When she just nods I look to the perfectly put together flight attendant and she also smiles sweetly at me and nods yes. So back to the bathroom I go.
I quickly take off my suit and throw my jeggings and t-shit back on. The pumps and hose I am not going to miss! My cardigan is so soft and comfy and my scarf ties it all together in a way that would make Pinterest proud. I add my favorite silver watch and the small diamond studs that Mable gave to me when I graduated college. They have brought me luck so far, and today I could totally use them.
As soon as I am redressed, I immediately feel more at ease. Mable knows me too well. I repack my bag and stow it in the compartment. Once I make my way back to my seat, I continue reading my hot baseball player book. Will he get the girl? Stay tuned. Before I know it, we are landing in Miller, Texas. Ready to catch some form of transportation to Tall Pines. Hopefully, the bus has a heater since it’s still pretty chilly for spring.
When we exit the plane there is a big black suburban with a very handsome blond man sporting some pretty decent muscles holding up a typed sign that says “Ms. Andrews and Ms. Andrews” on it. In comic sans font. I snicker. Nice. Very professional. What is he? Twelve. Our friends from the flight unload our bags from the plane and help load them into the back of the suburban.
“Hi, I’m Sam. The OL Coordinator for the football team. You must be Angellica?” He asks moving to shake my hand. “And you must be the infamous Ms. Mable. You’re legend around these parts,” he says in the most charming way.
“Thank you for coming to get us, I really appreciate it,” I tell him.
“It was nothing. Plus, my mother in law would have my hide if she found out I didn’t show Ms. Mable the hospitality she deserves,” damn, he’s married. What the fuck is wrong with me. I just dumped my cheating ass boyfriend yesterday. And I’m here for a freaking job interview. Jesus, I am a psychotic mess. Mable clears her throat and gives me the side eye, clearly telling me that my silence is weird.
“Well, we appreciate it anyways, don’t we, Aunt Mable?”
“Of course, dear. How is Sheila anyways?” She inquires.
“Happy as a clam since Sarah and Harper were born. Those are Aliza’s and my girls. And we moved back here when I got out of the service.”
“Of course. One day, my Angie will stop dating giant sacks of crap and will give me the great nieces and nephews that I deserve,” she lets out a great put upon sigh. “Until then, I will have to come by and see yours.” Aunt Mable is really laying it on thick over here and the more she talks, the thicker her accent comes back. It’s a sight to see.
Before we know it, we are pulling into town and I feel my stomach muscles clench. I try and covertly wipe my sweaty palms on the thighs of my jeans but a subtle movement catches my eye and I see Sam’s gaze is on my movements in the rear view mirror. His eyes crinkle in the corners so clearly he thinks I’m amusing.
“Right this way,” Sam says and we all climb out of the suburban in the high school parking lot. He leads us into the building and just through the main doors speaks to a woman at the front desk.
“Is this our nurse?” The voice from the phone call this morning asks.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Sam drawls.
“Right on time. They’re ready for you in the Principal’s office,” she tells me.
“Come on, child, right through here,” Mable says, dragging me along. I’m so nervous about the interview and so distracted by Mable. I can’t say I’ve had her walk me into an interview in I don’t know how many years, or like ever. But I swear I heard Sam and the school secretary continue to speak in hushed tones.
“She’s pretty. He won’t know what hit him,” she says.
“Either one,” Sam finishes as the Principal’s office door snicks closed behind me.
