Wondrous, arugula, bandit

Mission: in 500 words or less, write a story incorporating the words wondrous, arugula, and bandit.

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The older woman checked her ticket, looked at the aisle number above my head, and gestured to the window seat. I stood while she moved in.

“How do you do,” she said.

“Good, thanks. How about you?”

“Well, I haven’t flown since 1991,” she said. “And this is just ridiculous. The security, the lines, all of it. I am 77 years old and I should be treated with more respect than these fools deem fit. Heavens.” She sighed heavily. “Where are you headed?”

“Las Vegas,” I said. “How about you?”

“Las Vegas! More like Lost Wages! Ha ha. Watch out for those one-armed bandits!”

“I will, ma’am.”

“Will you be seeing the Grand Canyon while you’re there? It’s not very far, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, no. It’s kind of a boys’ weekend. I’m sure we’ll be sticking to the city.”

“You should really make a point to see the Grand Canyon. Have you ever seen it?” I shook my head. “I went with my husband—he’s been dead 14 years now—in 1987, I believe it was. Everyone should see it at least once. It’s wondrous. Truly wondrous.”

“I’ll definitely have to put that on my itinerary,” I said. But I knew we’d never leave the Strip. “Where are you off to?”

“Fresno. My son and his family live there.”

“Oh, that’ll be nice.”

She folded her hands on her lap. “They don’t know I’m coming.”

“Wow. Great surprise.”

“My son runs a big farm out there, so he never has time to come see me. It keeps him very busy. So. I thought, darn it, I will go out and see my boy. I will be the one to make the effort.”

“Does he have any kids?”

“He’s got two sons. So I’ve got two grandsons.”

“What do they grow on the farm?”

“Lettuce. The fancy kinds, like arugula and kale and spinach. They need a lot of attention, he tells me. ‘Can’t just run off any time you want me to,’ he tells me.”

“I bet he’ll be happy to see you,” I said.

“I’d like to think I’m more important than a field of crops, if that’s what you’re saying.”

Drinks, peanuts.

“How long has it been since you’ve been out to see them?”

“The last time I saw any of them was at my husband’s funeral. I’ve never met their youngest. He’s seven.”

I nodded. The plane flew over the featureless western desert.

She grabbed her purse from off the floor and reached into it. She pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet.

“Here,” she said. “For the slot machines. For luck.”

I held up my palm. “I couldn’t. Treat your grandsons to some ice cream. Spend it on them.”

She pushed the money into my hand and then turned to look out the window.

“I wonder if we’ll fly over the Grand Canyon,” she said.

We were nowhere near it. “Wouldn’t that be lucky,” I said.