Page 5 of Teaching Roman

Chapter Four

My sister accompaniedme to the security checkpoint at SeaTac, rattling off a list of items I needed to be sure I had with me: my passport, the number to the US embassy, photocopies of all identification, sunscreen. I had my passport and sunscreen.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, pausing near the entry to the queue.

“Don’t drink the water. Don’t talk to strange men.” Lillian grabbed my shoulders and looked fiercely into my eyes. “And don’t get pregnant.”

She followed it up with a hug, which was pretty awkward given that she’s half a foot taller than me—and because I was caught somewhere between hysterical laughter and total shock. Don’t get pregnant? That was her advice? Lillian didn’t talk about sex. She was a twenty-eight-year-old attorney who slept, ate, and drank at the office. As far as I knew, she’d never had sex before. She didn’t have the time. Not that I was much better. Our mom had conditioned us to be married to our work. It was the price of being raised by a single parent who prized independence over relationships. Mom had only started dating again when both of her daughters had left the nest.

My decision to go to Mexico meant bailing on Lillian for Christmas—the one day she left the office. We’d exchanged presents this morning over Starbucks and then she’d driven me to the airport. I should have known that I’d be in for a lecture.

“‘Kay, Lil,” I promised with a straight face. “I won’t get knocked up.”

Lillian looked relieved, which only made it funnier. Somehow I managed not to crack up. The laughter started as soon as the guard checked my passport, and then I couldn’t stop. It was probably why I wound up in a little back room getting additional security screening.

TSA agents don’t have much of a sense of humor.

My sister didn’t have to worry though. The gentle butt-cupping of the security agent was likely to be the most action I'd see for the next seven days. I was not going to Puerto Vallarta to get laid. Party girl? Not me. I had MCATS to study for, and Cassie promised that studying for “boring, med tests” on the beach would be more productive because of all the Vitamin D in the sunlight.

I didn’t bother reminding her that I was studying to be a doctor and that there was no scientific proof to back that up. People were always trying to use pseudo-scientific claims to talk me into things. Once Jillian had tried to convince me that if you studied drunk and then took the test drunk, you would remember all the right answers—and get to be drunk. Ask me how that worked out for her.

Cassie’s claims that sunshine would help me retain information on chemical compounds or homozygous-dominant genotypes were dubious. It would help me escape Brett though. He’d taken the trip to Mexico poorly and demanded an answer. I gave him one he didn't like.

Plus, Olympic Falls was covered in the gray, wet blanket of winter.

So now I was here, avoiding reason number two for running off to Mexico, a.k.a. Brett, and searching the departure gate for a broken-hearted Cassie. A sweep of the waiting area turned up nothing, so I started scouting the nearby restaurants. I found her two margaritas down at the Mile High Club.

“You should slow down,” I warned her, parking my carry-on within eyesight. I sank down on the wobbly barstool next to her and braced myself against the slick bar.

“It’s a four-hour flight,” she said, her drawl oozing tequila. Booze always brought out the Texan in her. “I’ll sleep like a baby.”

“A drunk baby,” I said with a snort.

“Imagine how peaceful that would be,” she argued.

The bartender appeared and dropped a napkin in front of me. “Can I get you something?”

“Two waters and the check,” I said. Beside me, Cassie pouted. Her pout was a work of art, but I’d grown immune to it after three years at Olympic State. As soon as she realized it wasn’t going to work, she switched tactics.

“Jess, this is no way to start your vacation.”

“I just thought we could save the alcohol poisoning for the beach,” I said dryly.

“Come on,” she pleaded. “I just deleted his phone number. That deserves a drink.”

I had to admit that was major, especially for Cassie who treated her iPhone like a modern Rolodex. “Good for you.”

“You doing okay?” she asked, suddenly serious. “How did it go last night with Brett?”

Despite my attempts to shield her from my own romantic troubles, I’d had to tell her that I was going to meet him last night. She’d been like a barnacle since the night she found Trevor with another girl. Bringing her along would have been a bad idea, but it hadn’t even mattered. “We broke up.”

Cassie's mouth fell open, but she recovered immediately and threw her arms around me.

I accepted it awkwardly. I couldn't tell Cassie why I'd broken up with him. She was too raw to hear about his marriage proposal.

“Fuck them.” Cassie balled up her fist and held it out for me. I knocked mine against hers. Our own gesture of girl power. I had to hand it to her. She was holding together pretty well. Of course, that could also be the tequila.

“So his phone number is gone. What next? Ding his Uber rating? Send him glitter in the mail?”