Guilt and empathy pinged, softening my insides, and I grappled with offering to shoulder the burden. It wasn’t my responsibility to fix her relationship with her mother—we have enough to do on ours, although I’m honestly not sure she’ll ever be emotionally mature enough or willing to put in the effort.
“I don’t want you looking back at your life and wonderingwhat iflike I sometimes do,” she said once she’d maneuvered her suitcase onto the departure curb. “Not that I’m not happy, and I’d choose you and your siblings every time—I need you to hear that.”
She stretched out her hand to squeeze mine, and I so badly needed to hear it I clung on extra tight, unshed tears forming in my eyes.
“There are avenues I didn’t pursue, things I didn’t think I could do as a single woman. But you blasted through every obstacle in your path, no problem.”
Funny because I recalled so, so many problems, most of which I took on while scared out of my mind. A broken pipe in my first apartment that destroyed what little furniture I’d collected, a superior who made inappropriate comments, and panic attacks in my car or the office bathroom.
Mom thought I was strong in ways I didn’t consider myself, and I snagged hold of it like a life preserver.
I’m strong. I can withstand whatever comes along.
From finding an apartment to settling into a new office and position, they’re all things I’ve done before and can do again. It’s really the idea of telling my grandmother causing the most stress.
I sense her beside me and slow my breaths, gradually returning to the present moment and a steady heart rate. Then I decide I can’t take it anymore, so I flip up from my half-crouched position and just blurt it out. “I accepted a job in Miami.”
Both women drop their jaws, and this isn’t the right time or the place, but out it comes anyway. About Simone Fairfax, the feminist Don Draper of the publicity world, with a reputation as flawless as her client retention, and how meeting Maddie at the open house led to the connection. “At the end of the interview, she told me the agency takes on events and emergencies as a team.”
And at the end of the call, Simone offered me the job, complete with a salary and benefits package that made me cry tears of joy.
And nope, those tears were absolutely not for any other reason, and I was sticking to that story.
“That’s when I knew it was the place for me.” Not an outright lie, but it tastes bitter for reasons I can’t pinpoint.
Wanda slides between my grandmother and me, slinging an arm around both our shoulders. “Aww, I’ll miss our third musketeer, but Mia’s worked very hard to get here.”
I have, and I appreciate the recognition of that, as it certainly wasn’t all pool parties and bingo.By creating a change in a community that housed so many people I love, I also proved my original success wasn’t a farce, I merely needed a breather.
Wanda turns to my grandmother, whispering in her ear as the male instructor who slunk away, panicked over female emotions, returns to ask if we’re ready to go.
“It’ll all be okay, I promise.” Wanda kisses us both on the cheek, leaving behind pearly pink imprints. Under normal circumstances I might wipe it away, but I want it there as a reminder I’m loved.
“You still in?” she asks me, and I side-eye my grandma.
I’ll climb aboard the propeller plane with a painted-on smile regardless of how nervous I am, because I told Wanda I would. Frankly, I couldn’t come up with a grander goodbye or a more suitable end to my chaotic, incredible summer of adventures.
“Fine.” Grandma Helen spits out the word, causing Wanda and I to excitedly widen our eyes at each other.
“You,” she says to our instructor, and his spine shoots ramrod straight. “Bring me the fucking waiver and a harness.”
“How veryThelma and Louiseof you,” I tease, referencing the movie they showed me one year to explain their friendship. In a lot of ways, it confused me—there are so many other options besides driving your car off a cliff with your best friend.
Now that I’m older, I understand where the women were coming from. I might not do it as loud or as flashy or as…permanently, but I rebel against societal expectations in my own way. I teach senior citizens to love their bodies as they are, I work to love my body as it is, and this summer I empowered a fabulous group of grandmothers to live out a few of their regrets.
It’s more satisfying than the sensational turnout for the open house. And I could only imagine what the women of the world could accomplish if we stopped drawing lines between generations and combined our various skillsets with our wealth of compassion and wisdom instead.
The next thirty minutes whiz right by, along with treetops and clouds in the sky, until we’re over ten thousand feet in the air. I can’t hear much over the droning engine or jingling buttons, and this tiny plane feels every current of air, so I also lose a couple of minutes to overthinking here and there.
We’ll jump two-by-two and link up mid-fall. Every sound I make is amplified in my head, the pounding rush of blood and thick gulps of air.
“Goggles.” Grandma gestures at her own pair, and I can’t feel my face or my fingers anymore. Just my heated skin and the icy cold sweat pricking my spine, because that means—I gulp and fumble with my own goggles—it’s almost time.
Landing is what always makes me nervous, so I guess yay for not having that issue today, but this still isn’t the way I’d personally go.
Wanda and Grandma Helen grin at each other, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think they plotted this. But itwasWanda and I joining forces, right?
Again, not the time.
