by K A Moll
“Better watch it,” Kathy Bird screeched as she tossed seeds, pieces of fruit, and nuts from her cage.
“Is it true,” Marigold sighed, “that that bird will be throwing her mess to the floor long after I’m dead and buried?”
“Well,” Coy responded, “I prefer not to think about it in those terms, but yes, as long as she has good care, she’ll likely live another fifty years.” She frowned as she stepped toward the cage. “You stop that right now,” she reprimanded.
“Yes, Bird,” Marigold threatened, “better behave, so you have good care while your mama’s away. We wouldn’t want your long life expectancy to be cut short, now would we?”
Chapter Two
“You get that stove good and clean?” the scruffy fifty-something-year-old man asked as he adjusted his belt to ride under his belly. “Because you ain’t getting back all your deposit ‘til you do.”
“I did, sir,” Coby answered. “Go see for yourself if you want to.”
“I’ll do just that,” the landlord said. “You follow along, so I don’t have to make an extra trip up these stairs to point out what you missed.” Her efficiency apartment was on the second floor of his one-car garage. It was old and hadn’t been a showplace for years. But today, he’d hold onto her money until she brought it up as close to that condition as she could.
“I don’t think I missed anything,” Coby called out. “I scrubbed until I was sure that it was clean as a whistle.” She passed him on the stairs so that she could open the door with her key. When they stepped inside, she picked up her scrawny black cat. She’d found her as a kitten back by the trashcans. The cat always met her with a soft meow when she entered. “Hey there girl,” she greeted. “Am I ever gonna miss you.” She nuzzled into her fur and kissed the top of her head. “But I don’t have a choice,” she continued, “I gotta take this job so I can pay the bills.” She scratched the cat’s ears as she purred. “You understand, don’t you girl?” She met her landlord’s gaze. “You sure you don’t mind taking care of Midnight, Mr. Morrison?” she asked hesitantly. Truth be known, she didn’t have another soul on the face of the earth whom she could ask to keep the pet she'd had for almost two years. If he turned her down, she’d have to take her to the animal shelter later that afternoon.
“No, don’t mind at all,” Mr. Morrison replied. “You’ve been a good renter, even if you’ve only been here three months. She’ll get along fine with my other three.”
“Thank you, sir,” Coby said. “I appreciate it so much. I’ll send you money for her keep on the first of each month when I send you my rent payment.” Her belongings were stacked neatly in the front of his garage. He rented her the dirty space at a better rate than her efficiency apartment.
“I’ll look for it,” the landlord said as he pulled open the oven door to peer in. “Just like I thought, you missed a spot,” he criticized. “Young people,” he muttered, “don’t ever give things back the way they found ‘em.” He stuck his head in a second time, pointing to the far lower left corner with his stubby finger. “Right there. You see it?”
“I do, sir. I’ll get it right now,” Coby said. At twenty-nine, she didn’t consider herself to be young, nor was she the one who left the oven dirty. She’d only used it once to bake a frozen pizza.
“Antarctica, huh? That’s a long way to go for a job,” he commented.
“You’re not kidding it is,” Coby said as she scraped the tiny-charcoaled spot with her clipped fingernail. “But the pay’s good and it’s not like anyone’s jumping to hire me around here.”
“You probably got it because they needed someone right away,” the landlord said. “Not just anyone can drop everything and fly off for ten months.”
“No,” Coby agreed. “Not just anyone can do that." The truth was, it was easy. She didn’t have a girlfriend and was estranged from her family. “My lucky day, I guess,” she added.
***
Coby paused for one last look as she walked down the driveway. She may have only lived here a short time, but the neighborhood had been her home for as far back as she could remember. It started to snow as she crossed the nearby busy intersection. Six inches were predicted by nightfall. She startled at the sound of peppering gunfire. Pop! Pop! ...Pop! Pop! Pop! It sounded like fireworks, but it wasn’t. Sirens wailed in the distance. When red flickered on the snow-dusted branches, she paused for a look. Shootings were the norm in her neighborhood. Whatever happened just now happened across from her old apartment. She shook her head, moving on down the block. Since the days of the notorious gangster, Al Capone, Chicago had earned the reputation for gang violence. The sidewalk was crowded with pedestrians as she made her way that morning. She stepped to one side to allow a woman to push her grocery cart through the least amount of slush. She handed the old lady a dollar as she passed.
“Thank you,” the woman mumbled without a smile.
“You’re welcome,” Coby responded. She flagged down the first taxi to roll around the corner, tossed her bags into the backseat, and slid in beside them.
The driver looked back to catch her eye. “Where to?” he asked with a growl. She assumed he’d had a long night.
“O’Hare,” Coby answered, leaning forward to meet his eye. “Please hurry if you can,” she added as emptiness flipped in the pit of her stomach. “I can’t miss this flight.” The ‘L’ would have been a more economical option, but she didn’t have time. She’d planned to get an early start so that she could walk to the station, but she hadn’t been able to leave her apartment until she’d finished vomiting. What in the world was she thinking, taking this job when she’d never been on an airplane in her life? What possessed her to agree to go to a place so far from home, a place that she knew absolutely nothing about, a place that she couldn’t reach without flying? She wished she’d paid attention in eighth-grade social studies. Her mouth watered and she considered jumping out. She swallowed hard, resigned to the fact that she had to go.
“You’ll get there,” the taxi driver said as he whipped into traffic. He swerved around a delivery van, cut over to the far lane, and sped toward the airport.
“Thank you,” Coby said. She settled back into her seat, took a deep breath, and tried to calm her queasy stomach. She tipped him the best she could before she got out. The check-in process at the airport was challenging. Had the lady behind the ticket counter not been so helpful, Coby knew she’d have been in a heap of trouble.
“Alright,” the lady said, “I’ve circled your departures and arrivals in red and your gate numbers and times in blue.” She pointed. “See? Right here,” she said.
Coby leaned in. “Yeah, that looks easy enough,” she responded. She met the woman’s gaze and thanked her. As she walked over to take her seat, she thumbed through her boarding passes—Chicago to Los Angeles—Los Angeles to Sydney—Sydney to Christchurch—Christchurch to Antarctica—in the air for nearly thirty hours. She sucked in a breath, and for the umpteenth time, felt nauseous.
***
Cyrus pulled the SUV into a short-term parking space at the Mobile Regional Airport. “I’ll get your bags,” he said as he exited the vehicle. “Can’t believe you just have two and you’re gonna be there all that time.”
“I had to abide by the restrictions,” Coy responded. “It took the longest time to prioritize.”
“I’ll bet it did,” Marigold piped in, “as much as you like clothes.” She got out of the front passenger seat and stepped over to walk alongside her daughter. “We could’ve driven you over to Pensacola. It’s only forty miles. You didn’t have to fly.”
“I know,” Coy said, “but it was just as easy to book all the way through to Antarctica.” She handed over a copy of her itinerary—Mobile to Pensacola—Pensacola to Charlotte—Charlotte to Dallas—Dallas to Sydney—Sydney to Christchurch—Christchurch to Antarctica.
Marigold tipped her glasses to read through her bifocals. “Bottom of the world,” she mumbled.
&nb
sp; Coy slipped her arm around her shoulders. “I know,” she cooed, “but we’ll keep in touch. We’ll FaceTime, and I’ll call. You’ll see,” she added, “it’ll be okay. I’ll be home before you know it.”
“I don’t think so,” Marigold said with a quiet sigh, “but I expect FaceTime will help.”
“I’d be shakin’ in my boots,” Cyrus said, “taking off all by myself like you are. You’re not scared,” he asked, “not at all?”
“No, Daddy, not really,” Coy answered. “I mean, I’ve never been to Antarctica, so I’m sure there’ll be things to figure out. But I’ve traveled all over the world. Actually, I expect the traveling part to be rather fun.”
“You might think differently,” Marigold responded, “once you make all those flight connections and find yourself where the sun don’t shine for almost six months.”
“I love you, Mama,” Coy cooed. “Love you too, Daddy.” She kissed them on their cheeks and tipped her luggage onto its wheels. “Well, I suppose it’s about time for me to get checked-in,” she added.
A tear trickled down Marigold’s cheek, and Coy slipped her arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mama," she said, “I’ll be back in no time.”
“Let us know when you get there,” Cyrus said.
Coy looked back with a smile. “Of course I will,” she called out.
***
Coby was the last person to step into the aisle to disembark the aircraft. She was tall, and it took a minute to straighten her limbs. What a long trip—a very, very, very long trip. Two legs of her journey remained. She’d catch her flight to McMurdo Station in the morning and the one to Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station in a couple of days.
“You sure you don’t want to come along?” Diego invited. She’d met him on her flight from Australia to New Zealand. He, as well as those he’d introduced her to, referred to themselves as ‘ice people.’ They were rugged individuals, and with any luck, she’d fit right in.
Coby hesitated before answering. “No,” she finally said, “but thanks for the offer anyway.”
“It’s totally on the up and up,” Diego said. “I’d be as well-behaved as your brother.”
“If you knew my brother,” Coby responded, “you’d know what a terrible argument you just gave.” She patted the vinyl cushion. “No, I’m good right here,” she said, “but thanks. Really.”
“All right,” Diego said, “suit yourself.” He took a few steps and then turned around. “I have a little extra,” he continued. “I could get you a room, and you could pay me back after you get your first paycheck.” Once that happened, she expected to be rolling in dough, earning more than she ever had before. Her new employer paid well for the inconvenience.
“That’s a tempting offer,” Coby said, “but I can’t let you do that.”
“Okay,” Diego said, “suit yourself.” He smiled and added, “It was fun to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too,” Coby responded. “Catch you later.” She dug through the food provisions at the bottom of her bag—crackers, potato chips, and beef jerky. She’d eaten them so many times in a row that they looked totally unappetizing. In a splurge, she sprinted off in search of a deli sandwich. Maybe she’d find one like she used to get at the gas station around the corner from her old place. She paused at the first option. It looked too expensive, but the décor was appealing. The wall murals were breathtaking—grand open landscapes, snow-capped mountains, and coastlines with what seemed like miles of beaches. The landscapes were like no place she’d ever seen, even in movies. She pulled out her wallet, fingering through the thin layer of bills that it contained.
“Nice, huh?” the bartender greeted.
“Yeah,” Coby responded, “really something.” She tilted her head, holding his gaze. “Where is it?” she asked, “I mean where do you find that kind of scenery?”
“Right here,” he said as a broad grin crossed his face. “Right here on the mainland. They were painted by a local artist,” he added. “She sure captures the beauty of the South Island, doesn’t she?” He raised his arm with a motion that carried through the space. “It’s why people come to New Zealand.”
“It’s beautiful,” Coby said as she treated her eyes to another sweep. “Really something,” she repeated, “I mean it.” She noted that the establishment had different seating sections—a bar with multiple ceiling-mounted TVs, a formal dining room with white tablecloths and high-back seats, and a casual area with cork tile sealed flooring. In the corner, it looked as if they were in the process of setting up for an evening of dancing and live music.
“You want to see a menu?” the bartender asked.
“No,” Coby responded, “I don’t need one. I just want an order of fries and a Coke.”
“They have a rosemary seasoning,” the guy said. “Is that okay?”
“I guess so,” Coby responded. “Never tasted rosemary.” She shook her head and met his gaze. “I seem to be trying a lot of new things these days.”
“You need a glass?” the guy asked.
“No, the bottle’s fine,” Coby answered.
“Sweet as, mate,” he said as he twisted the cap and slid the beverage her way. Then, he reached up to change the channel on the nearest TV. “Satellite feed comes in from most places,” he added. “I’ll see if I can find you something on one of the American stations.”
“That’d be good,” Coby said as she took a long swig of her ice-cold drink. “Thanks.”
He set the channel on a football game out of Green Bay, saying, “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” Coby said.
Chapter Three
Coby tipped back for a mouthful of soda as her team scored its first touchdown. She swallowed and shouted, “Go Bears!”
“Well, I don’t think so,” the curvy woman said, adding extra drawl for emphasis. “Go Packers!” She’d come out of nowhere. It was like having a southern songbird sneak up and scream in your ear.
Coby met her gaze with a grin. “Oh no,” she moaned playfully. “I think a Packer-backer is about to sit next to me.”
“She sure is,” Coy said with a smile. It was smooth and easy, like her demeanor. She settled onto the bar stool, lifting a menu from its holder. “I’ll have a turkey on whole wheat with a house salad,” she said. “To go, if possible,” she added.
“Takeaway it is,” the bartender said. “It’ll be up in a bit.”
“Thank you kindly,” Coy responded as she turned her attention to the green-eyed woman seated next to her. Green, the least common eye color, would make her more susceptible to the sun’s harmful radiation. Her eyes and complexion were a striking contrast to her red copper hair. Underneath green and black flannel, she wore a white t-shirt. The shirt combination was almost, but not quite, enough to conceal the slight swell of her breasts. “Coy Davidson,” Coy said.
Coby startled when Coy touched the back of her hand. The quick movement nearly spilled her drink. “Coby Lee O’Brien,” she stammered.
The corners of Coy’s mouth turned upward, ever so slightly. “Pleased to meet you, Coby Lee O’Brien,” she said. She licked her lips and allowed her gaze to linger.
“Good to meet you too,” Coby echoed as she swigged down a gulp of cola. In the next instant, she launched into a coughing fit.
Coy touched the center of her back, ever so gently, saying, “You’re okay.”
“Sorry,” Coby sputtered, rubbing her eyes, “I just panicked there for a minute.”
“No need to be,” Coy cooed. “Choking’s a scary thing.”
Coby nodded, averting her gaze. She seemed relieved when the roar of the TV crowd provided her with an excuse to yell at the screen. “Hey,” she objected, “that was a clean hit.” She stole a glance Coy’s way. “Did you see that?” she asked. “It was clean.”
“I did,” Coy responded, “but I’m not so sure that was the case.” She smiled and held her gaze. “Had it been clean,” sh
e added, “that fine gentleman in the black and white striped shirt wouldn’t have tossed his yellow hankie onto the field.”
Coby’s eyes twinkled. “You really get football, don’t you,” she said.
“You sound surprised,” Coy responded with the raise of an eyebrow.
“Well, I am…a little,” Coby said as she fingered through what appeared to be a recently clipped crop of hair.
“Do tell,” Coy responded.
Coby’s eyes narrowed.
“Go on,” Coy added with a suppressed smile, “explain yourself.”
“Oh...uh…okay,” Coby said. “I just meant that girls as pretty as you…uh…are usually pretty dense when it comes to football.”
“Well,” Coy responded as a slow smile spread across her face, “I do believe that was meant as a compliment, so I suppose a thank you is called for.” She was curious about her handsome new friend’s travel plans but decided it best not to ask about them. Her gaze lingered for a long moment.
“Here you go,” the bartender announced as he set her meal before her.
“Why thank you,” Coy responded, peeking into the bag to see what he’d brought. “It smells wonderful,” she added, paying him the price of $17.50, and rolling the top closed. As she turned to Coby, she slipped her meal into the side pocket of her luggage. “It was a pleasure, Coby Lee O’Brien,” she said, extending her hand.
“Yeah, for me too,” Coby responded, taking it.
***
“Would you like assistance with your bag?” the hotel clerk inquired.
“No, but I thank you for the offer” Coy responded, “I’ve been tugging this little carry-on around on my own for days.” The remainder of her luggage was at the airport, ready for her flight to McMurdo Station in the morning. She collected her key, road the elevator up, and unlocked her door. She set an early alarm to have time to take a hot shower in the morning, afraid that it might be her last for a while. She did a crossword puzzle as she ate her supper. As she crawled underneath the covers of her pillow-top bed, her mind drifted back to the airport. “Mmm…Coby Lee O’Brien,” she murmured. “I hope you won’t mind if I ponder what it might be like to have you touch me.” She closed her eyes, indulging in the fantasy. What could it hurt? The good-looking woman was most likely already on her way to her next destination. The chance of seeing her again was minuscule. With that, she lifted her nightshirt and switched on her new toy. The Ecstasy 2020 was promised to be seven-inches of vibration with unimaginably stimulating ridges, and it was. “Ohhhhh...Coby Lee,” she moaned.
