Chapter 4

I stumbled into the hotel room, dropped my suitcase, and collapsed on the bed. As required by the agreement to keep me on at work, I had spent the day traveling across the country on yet another trip to Phoenix, which meant yet another six hours on a plane, yet another two-hour layover, another terribly unhealthy airport-food-court lunch that Leanna would kill me for eating, and, of course, yet another week of trying to train people convinced they know more after six months on the job than their trainer who has been doing the job for fifteen years.

My phone had died en route, so I plugged it in. It immediately began vibrating with a message from Lisa. I opened it the message, which contained a single picture ... a digital scale showing the number “201”. Down 2 pounds from last week, and, more important, down 28 pounds in the last three months.

“Close!” I texted back. Her first goal was to get below 200 pounds. Her big remaining vice was Starbucks coffee, although she had cut back from three a day to one a day ... well ... most days, only one. I had promised her a gift card when she got below 200.

I checked the clock. 5:30. The nice thing about the hotel where I usually stayed for these trips, aside from it being a quick four-block walk to the office, is that they offered something of an informal evening meal during the week. This night, Monday night was burgers, along with wine – they offer wine every night, no matter what the food offering - and it starts at 6:00. I hastened down to the lobby, grabbed a burger and a bottle of water, and made myself comfortable at the only empty table.

Two bites in, I heard, “May I sit here?”

I looked up to see a woman I recognized as a fellow business traveler, having seen her on a couple of previous trips, although I didn’t know much about her. Still, I motioned with my hand for her to sit down.

As she sat, I looked her over. I had never really studied her much before. I had known she was rather short, albeit taller than me. Looking a little closer this time, I pegged her for an even five feet, with mousy brown hair and a medium complexion. She seemed to be around my age, maybe slightly older.

I swallowed my food and held out my hand. “John.”

She took the hand with a smile. “Diana.”

After letting her eat a few bites, I began with the standard questions, and she responded in kind. She told me she was a manager with one of the airlines, working mostly out of their base of operations in Dallas, but coming here to the operations center at the Phoenix office a couple of times a month. She indirectly volunteered the information that she was 47 years old – a little older than me – and married, with no kids. She had had a glass or two of the proffered wine by this point, so when I asked what her husband does, she replied, “Waits for me to leave and then calls his ex-girlfriend who I’m not supposed to know he still talks to.”

Intelligently, I responded, “Oh.” What do you say to that?

She chuckled. “Sorry. Too much information, I know. You married?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?”

I started to reply in the negative, but then thought of Lisa. I hadn’t given much thought to her from a romantic standpoint, but the possibility was suddenly quite present in my mind. I decided to go with, “Eh ... I have someone I’ve been seeing a little bit, but nothing serious.”

Diana took a sip of her wine, and then, looking at me over the glass, she asked, “Just the one? I thought that was the stereotype of the single business traveler. Girlfriend in every city.”

I shrugged. “Not my style.”

She pointed to my own glass of wine. “You sure? Maybe that would give you more courage to look.”

I was saved by my cell phone ringing. The caller ID informed me that it was my mother. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

I talked to Mom for about 15 minutes ... nothing special, just the sort of “checking in” phone call most moms insist on having with their children every week or so ... and returned to find Diana still in control of her faculties, but definitely feeling the buzz of the wine nonetheless.