Chapter 1 - The Departure Lounge
We drove to John Glenn Columbus International Airport in silence, save for the hum of the heater and the sound of Mark tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel.
He was vibrating with a nervous energy he tried to disguise as impatience. He complained about the traffic on I-670. He complained about the parking shuttle. He insisted on pulling my Samsonite out of the trunk himself, his knuckles white around the handle.
"I've got it," he said sharply when I reached for it.
"Alright," I replied, my voice mild, perfectly matching the oblivious, quiet persona he relied on.
We met the rest of the Hollis-Med regional team near the ticketing counters. There were the usual handshakes and overly loud morning greetings. And standing near the edge of the group, holding a beige leather tote bag and a designer rolling case, was Dana Collins.
Dana was twenty-eight, wore perfume that smelled expensive and loud, and had a habit of looking at me like I was a slightly tragic television commercial she was forced to sit through.
"Good morning, Mark," Dana smiled, her voice dipping into an octave that wasn't strictly professional. She looked at me. "Oh. Hi, Diane. Bringing a book to read while Mark works?"
"Something like that," I said.
Mark checked his watch, shifting his weight. "Let's get through security. The lines are backing up."
"Mark, hold my spot?" Dana asked, batting her eyelashes. "I need to run to the restroom and grab a coffee before we get in the TSA line. Watch my bags?"
"Sure, Dana. Make it quick," Mark said, already pulling his phone out to check an incoming email.
Dana trotted off toward the Starbucks. The rest of the sales team began migrating toward the security checkpoint, leaving Mark and me standing near the ticketing kiosks with the luggage. Mark took a few steps away to answer a phone call, turning his back to me, deeply engrossed in explaining a supply chain issue to a client.
He left my black Samsonite and Dana’s unzipped beige leather tote sitting side by side on the polished terminal floor.
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I looked at my suitcase. I looked at Dana's bag.
I am a librarian. My entire life is built around the principle that things belong in their proper place. And Mark's secret did not belong with me.
