Tomorrow, she said to herself. Or maybe the day after.
She went to the ladies’ washroom to change her clothes for the flight. In a cubicle with a full-length mirror, Ava stripped down to her underwear and looked at herself. The marks on her neck and shoulders had faded but the bruising on her hip and torso was a garish purple. She unwrapped the gauze on her arm and examined the cut. It had stopped bleeding, but she might need stitches. God, what a mess I am, she thought as she slipped a black Giordano T-shirt over her head.
Back in the lounge, she turned on her computer and connected to her email server. She sent brief messages to her mother, Marian, and Mimi, telling them she’d be back in Toronto the next day. As she scanned her other emails she saw one from Maria Gonzalez, inviting her out for dinner and dancing.
Dear Maria, she wrote, I’m looking forward to meeting you, but I think we should go for a coffee or something more casual. I’m flying back into Toronto tonight. We can discuss it in the next few days.
Ava had gone through the rest of her emails and was about to shut down the computer when one arrived from Mimi. Dim sum tomorrow?
Yes, Ava wrote back, just as a reply from Maria came through. What time does your flight arrive? she asked.
Ava hesitated, then wrote, 10:30, Air Canada from London.
Can I meet you at the airport? Maria wrote back a minute later.
I look like hell and I ache all over, Ava replied.
I’ll bring a hug.
Am I ready for this? Ava wondered. Then she read over their correspondence again and smiled. I can use a hug, she wrote. See you there.
