My brain scrambled and scrambled like a hard drive seeking a file. Finally…it stopped. Work! Focus on work. Work is always a good distraction. A quick and good fix. And with a ten-day schedule of all-day cross-country flights ahead of me, I would have more than enough time to shift my focus. So I began packing, stuffing my bag with enough clothes to keep a person warm in a Russian winter. I showered, watered my plants, hugged Muggly, jumped in a cab, and raced to the airport.

Work. Work. Work. Work was my focus. My cure. No mention of Graham, no thoughts of Sheree. That was my new mantra. Over and over I repeated it as I rushed through the airport waving at agents, winking at vendors. No mention of Graham. No thoughts of Sheree. Finally reaching the plane, I exhaled. My will was strong. My resolve impenetrable.

“Sheree is getting what?!! To who?!” Gail exclaimed, almost in shock as she nearly burnt her arm on a pot of coffee.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t as strong as I thought.

“I don’t know, I haven’t met him yet and I can’t remember his name. It was late when she told me.”

“When did all this happen?”

“Last weekend, I guess.”

“And you ain’t never even met the guy?!”

“No.”

“Flight attendants, prepare your doors for departure” rang through the air, as we were about to begin our ascent. We were on a short hop to Detroit, which was more than enough time for Gail to cheer me up, make me laugh, or at the very least, convince me that her life was in much worse condition than mine. I began my announcements knowing full well she wasn’t near ready to let it go.

“Welcome aboard Transcontinental Airlines Flight 606 with non-stop service to Detroit’s Metro Airport.”

“You can’t remember your sister’s fiancé’s name? How can you not know his name? You’re about to be related!” Gail attempted to whisper while covering the intercom.

“Sheree barely knows his name. All she knows is that he drives a car, owns a house, and wants to be an optometrist. And more important, that he’s willing to be married. To her.”

I removed her hand from the intercom. “All luggage must be properly stowed in the overhead bins or underneath the seat in front of you.”

“Montana, I don’t mean no disrespect, but your family got issues.” She yanked the mic from my hand. “No, ya’ll got more than issues,” she said with greater attitude than before. “Ya’ll got the full years’ subscription. Your family shops for husbands like a sale at the mall. A closeout sale. Buy one husband and get one free, taking the extra husband home as a gift for your cousin, auntie, grandmamma…whoever!”

“It’s the curse.”

“What’s the curse?”