Confused, I asked, “My what?”
“The black American Express Card. I gave it to you last week.”
Oh. I didn’t know it had a special name. “I will.”
“Come on, Frank, our driver is waiting.” Mom’s distant eyes looked around the unknown.
Leaning down, my father kissed the top of my head and said, “Keep me updated with everything. Okay?”
I nodded, squeezing him in a hug as tight as I could. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“Behave, Ana. Focus,” Mom added. I tightened my jaw. I wanted to snapback, I’ve always focused and behaved. But I didn’t. “I will, Mom.”
“You’ll let us know when your first meet is?”
Bewilderment with slivers of hope wedged through me. “You want to know?”
Joy jutted out her hip and propped her hand. “Of course I do.”
This was news to me. Mom hadn’t been to one of my meets in years, and not for lack of trying on my part, either.
“Ana, we’re paying a lot of money for this ridiculous hobby of yours. Don’t make us regret it.”
My shoulders dropped. I should’ve known. “I’ll let you know once I find out.”
Her patronizing tone over my “ridiculous hobby” was heartbreaking. For a split second, I thought she actually wanted to watch me do what I love. How foolish of me to think otherwise.
Then she did something surprising. “Please, be safe. I know you’re self-sufficient, but I—we—still worry.” She leaned down and kissed my cheek. I wasn’t sure how to react. I forced a smooth smile and took joy in it.
Mom pulled back, and I saw the love in her eyes she so rarely showed. I had yet to figure out why she rode me the way she did. I hated it, but I’d take what little bits of affection I could from her. She was still my mother after all, and I loved her.
WHEN SUNDAY ROLLED around, I tried to get settled as quickly as I could. I didn’t have a ton of things to unpack since my condo was fully furnished before we arrived, but I did want everything to be just right. Dealing with the chaos of unpacked boxes and shuffling through them to find things was not something I wanted to deal with. I was used to structure and needed it in all aspects of my life. Monday was the first day of my new workout schedule and I knew I wouldn’t have much time for anything once it started. I woke up early and began emptying boxes, finding places for framed pictures of Avery and me, my family, and of good times back home. I even hung some of my most prized medals.
My nerves steadily climbed as the day went on, anxious for tomorrow to come. I was eager to rub my hands through the chalk bowl, feel the springboard beneath my feet as I flipped backwards onto the vault. I couldn’t wait to learn more about my teammates, and bond with them.
Into the afternoon, I took a break and pulled out a meal from my mom’s favorite fresh food delivery company. My cell phone rang and I smiled at the name on the screen.
“Hey, girl!”
“Hey!” Avery responded. “How’s it going? I miss you already.”
“Ave—I haven’t even been gone a week.”
“I know,” she whined. “But you’re my bestie and you moved thousands of miles away!”
I chuckled at her exaggeration. “You act like I moved to China. It’s not thousands of miles away. I didn’t move across the world, I’m literally three hours away...max.”
“True, but who am I going to people watch and gossip with now on Worth Avenue? I need my girl.”
A smile spread across my face, reminiscing about fun times with Avery. Worth Avenue was equivalent to New York’s 5th Avenue, it had all the top designer stores and restaurants. Tall palm trees lined the streets, flower bushes with the most vibrant colors I’ve ever seen bloomed beneath the high sun climbing the buildings. Worth Avenue was a picturesque little spot.
Avery and I had been best friends since we were infants. Our parents were extremely close, her dad was a partner at Rossi Enterprises, so we were pretty much inseparable. Leaving her was more difficult than I expected. I knew it wouldn’t be anything for us to drive to see each other for a quick visit, our parents wouldn’t bat an eye, but that wasn’t the point. I left behind my one true best friend. She was the closest thing I had to a sister—my confidante and my lifeline.
“Stop being so dramatic. We can still do that on the phone. Plus, I’ll be home for holidays and stuff.”
“Whatever, so what are you doing now?”