Larna was my mom’s best friend. And she is,was, Ethan’s mother. The woman who used to braid my hair after school, who I know let me sneak into her house after curfew, just to kiss my boyfriend one last time. Shelet me cry on her front porch when he left for college, and I stayed behind. And again, when he broke up with me. For good. “I don’t even know what to say to mom. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Julia’s voice crackles, “Ask the pilot to come as fast as he can? Meeting the safety standards, obviously,” I can hear a faint laugh on her end, and that’s more than enough to make me take a breather. I finish tossing what's left into my carry-on and zip it shut. “Sure, I’ll let him know you said that.” A small laugh escapes me. “I’ll text you from the airport, okay?” I don’t want to go, but I know I have to. “Okay, love you, bye.”
Carry on? Check. Bag? Check. Cellphone is fully charged; the charger is in the bag; the laptop and charger are there; the work phone is also there. I think I’m ready. Key word here,think.
The smell of cinnamon and steamed oat milk meets me halfway down the stairs. And that’s how I know that Beatriz just finished making coffee. I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s not just the nanny; she basically runs this house. She has been with us for over five years now; at this point, she is part of the family. I go into the kitchen and grab my mug to take that first sip of coffee. I let it warm my entire body while I stare at nothing. The first sip of coffee in the morning is what gets me going. It is the only moment in the day when I can let my mind go blank. But apparently that’s not working today.
David appears and stands beside me, phone in one hand, pouring coffee with the other into the Father’sDay mug the kids painted a couple of years ago. Tiny blue handprints stamped across the ceramic, our little family frozen in time. It makes me smile, then a bit sad. Larna would’ve loved those handprints. She always said kids leave their marks whether you want them to or not. She was not wrong at all. She never met them. A part of me couldn’t let that happen.
“All packed?” David asks, getting me out of my mind. “Yeah. I’ll finish my coffee and get going.” I study him the way I always do. David is the man everyone admires. He is sharp, smart, charming, put-together, and, God, he is handsome. “Want me to take you to the airport?” His eyes scan me; he knows me better than anyone. And I know he can see I’m struggling, but he won’t say anything I’m not ready to say myself. And for that I’m grateful.
“No, the car’s scheduled. But thank you.” He nods and leans against the counter. “Where are the boys?” I asked to change the subject, I don’t need small talk this morning.
“Still upstairs. Beatriz went up to grab them.” And almost on cue, soft footsteps echo down the hall, followed by the thump-thump-thump of Mathew’s feet on the stairs. “Mommy!” he calls, barreling toward me. I crouch to catch him, his little body warm against me, strawberry shampoo clinging to his hair. “I don’t want you to go,” he mumbles into my shoulder. “I know, baby.” I kiss the crown of his head. “It’s just a few days, okay?”
Jeremiah trails after, slower, blanket dragging behindhim like always. “You packed your hoodie, right?” he asks. “Of course.” I smile, though my chest aches. He’s eight going on fourteen, but who am I to blame? He is just like me.
Beatriz appears, bun tight, apron streaked with batter. She gives me a look, maternal, steady, everything I need right now. She always sees more than I show, but she keeps her distance, which I appreciate. “I’ll keep them happy and busy. We’ll bake cookies tonight. Superheroes, yes?” Mathew brightens. “Even Wolverine?”
“Especially Wolverine.”
I run a hand down Jeremiah’s back. My throat tightens a bit. I’m not used to being far from my boys, from my home, my family, my routine. David sets his phone down and presses a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Have a safe flight, O. Love you,”
“Love you too.” We hug, and Beatriz takes the boys away. I grab my bag and head for the door.
The driver pulls up, “Good Morning, Olivia. I’ll take the bag.” He wrestles my suitcase into the trunk, and we are off. As we pull away, the city blurs, traffic humming, skyline rising and falling. I rest my head against the cool glass.
This isn’t just me grieving, Larna, it’s me grieving my whole life.
The one I left in Tacoon, anyway.
The airport reeksof burnt coffee and fuel. I haven’t set foot in Tacoon in years. Only for holidays, quick trips, but never long enough to feel anything. This time is different, maybe because I’ll be there alone. Maybe because I only booked a one-way ticket. Not that I’m planning to stay —God no— but my mom might need me more than she knows right now. And I can’t allow whatever I’m feeling or will feel there to make me leave sooner than is needed.
I speed-walk to the gate. The overhead announcements blur together, sharp and metallic, each one rattling in my skull. Motion is the only thing keeping me upright. I feel like if I stop, I’ll crack. My stomach is a knot I can’t loosen, and the acid is crawling up my throat. I make a quick stop at the little market, grab myself a bag of Sour Patch Kids, a Coke Zero I know I won’t drink, and some gum.
This flight is under two hours, just long enough to sip champagne and pretend I’m cool, calm, and collected.
I board and get to my seat. The plane is almost empty, and there’s no one in my row. Not surprised by that, honestly. Nobody flies to Tacoon, let alone at 7:00 a.m. on a random Wednesday.
Once we are at cruising altitude, I stop the flight attendant, “Excuse me, can I get an orange juice and abottle of champagne? Thank you.” I expect her to judge my choice, but she just smiles at me. “Do you want that separate, or as a mimosa?”
“Whatever is easier for you,” She nods and goes away. Honestly, I could take just the champagne. My hands shake as I take the glass. She hands me a mimosa and an extra bottle of champagne. “On the house,” I smiled on the outside, but she clearly saw that I needed the alcohol part of this drink. Did I say something out loud? It doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.
I pull out my computer and check for any emergencies. But I don’t see any. Nothing on my work phone either —just a message on my personal one as we descend.
Mom: Can’t wait to see you. I’ll be at baggage claim.
My chest tightens. She must be hurting so bad, and I don’t know what to do to make her feel better. Larna has been her best friend since college. They got married the same year and started having kids together. She had Maggie as a newlywed. Everyone used to talk about how she had to be pregnant at the wedding, but only they knew the truth and never told a soul. Then she had Ethan, a year after I was born. Julia and Leo were born a few years after us. We grew up like siblings. We were all really close until Ethan and I fell in love. I mean, we stayed close for a while. I guess we just grew up.
When the plane lands and the door opens, I can feel the cold November air slapping against my skin. Tacoondoesn’t believe in fall. It’s like it doesn’t get the memo that there’s supposed to be a season between summer and fucking winter.
The airport is quiet at this time in the morning. And basically, all day. This is a small town, so only a handful of flights arrive and depart each day. I’m lucky I got one on such short notice.
But all that ‘luck’ slips away when I see him.
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER TWO
