A week later
The flight to Missouri feels like an eternal journey, even with a couple rounds of vodka in me. Flying isn't something I do well at all, so I figure, I may as well do it a little drunk. It's not like anyone is giving me a test on it. Even with a couple rounds of vodka in me, the flight inches by ever so slowly.
When we finally land half a century later, I'm relieved to have my somewhat wobbly legs back on solid ground. Flying is the worst.
As we're exiting the plane, I spot Molly nearly instantly in a clearing amongst the crowd. Her face lights up when she spots me. Minutes later we're wrapped in an embrace, while Jose juggles our luggage. Through excited giggles, I introduce her to Jose. It's then that I finally notice her husband standing close by. As they all exchange greetings, I find myself studying Molly. It's so odd to see her here, in real life, in 3D. After a few seconds of sizing her up I notice that she's prettier, shorter, and much sweeter in person than I had anticipated. A tad quieter too, but that doesn't last long. Our husbands seem to take a liking to each other immediately — talking about cars and things that go vroom vroom or whatever it is that dudes talk about.
As for Molly and I, we click instantly, but this doesn't surprise me. After all, we'd already been best friends for months by now. We are virtually strangers, but virtually, we knew each other very well. Or at least as well as one could through electronic devices.
We start our weekend off by aimlessly exploring the streets of Kansas City, stopping at shops and pubs that peeked our interest. As we come across one of my favorite shops, we dart in and head straight towards the back to look for a more robust jacket. I'm pretty sure I froze off my nut sack out there.
The smell of leather greets us as we breeze through the door. On our way to the back, we stumble upon the baby section. I pause to admire the stylish tiny outfits. These babies dress better than me.
Tracing my fingers over a tiny pink dress, I turn to Molly curiously. “Are y'all planning on having another baby?”
I'm not sure why I even asked her this. I don't have an obsession with babies. Not at all. Unless it's a baby animal. Then the obsession is instant.
Molly shakes her head sadly at my question.
“He doesn't want anymore,” she says nodding in the direction of her husband.
“Well, isn't he just a refuser of happiness.” I say jokingly.
She laughs politely at this. It isn't funny, and I know this.
A moment of awkward silence dances between us and the air seems to go momentarily still.
“How about we grab some drinks?” I suggest.
“I know just the place,” she says.
