One more time, we allow ourselves to lose each other in a goodbye kiss. It might have been my imagination, but his kiss was more forceful this time, unlike his normally gentle and relaxing manner.
Time ticks at a fast and demanding pace. We have only minutes left and this kiss—though deep and full of emotions—will be our last.
In a world full of promises, I can be optimistic and know that he’ll always be around. But inside that world lies doubt. With everything riding on my shoulders, I will now carry the weight alone. I have no choice but to succeed.
For my brother, who has no one else.
For my Mama to be taken care of.
And for my safe return home.
The sound of a horn beeps at the end of the driveway. Mama’s cousin, Vladimir, sits in his truck, parked out front with Mama and Flynn inside. I turn back around and touch Liam’s scraggy hair one more time, before letting go and walking away. I refuse to look back, but by the time I’m sitting in the truck beside Flynn, I stare out the window to catch that last glimpse.
He wears a smile like a badge of honor, but his eyes tell a different story. I can promise this man many things, but my fear drives my thoughts, and the truth is, I have no idea what the next twelve months will hold.
***
The drive is relatively quiet—small talk about Alaskan history and my grandparents’ migration from Russia. The exit to the airport is only a few miles ahead, and before I can blink an eye, we are parked in Departures. Vladimir unloads our bags with Flynn assisting as I stand watching, swallowing the pain that crawls inside me and cripples my words.
Flynn isn’t one to show emotion, but when he wraps his arms around Mama, the little boy inside of him comes out. His tall, lanky frame almost relies on her for support, resting his head awkwardly on her shoulder while she whispers into his ear.
She always had a soft spot for him, her only son, her baby. He pulls away with bloodshot eyes, mouth twisted while mumbling goodbye and busying himself with our luggage.
There’s chaos around us with people leaving, saying goodbye to their loved ones. Some smiling, some laughing, those that let their tears fall freely while holding onto each other tight, and a couple who embrace while jamming their tongues down each other’s throats.
“You’ve got my details, where we’ll be staying,” I say quietly.
Mama smiles softly, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. She always wears this ring—old gold with an emerald stone in the middle. It had once belonged to my great-great-grandmother and was given to her by some queen in Europe. As a child, I would lay by Mama’s side and fantasize wearing the ring, planning the moment when she would leave it on her dresser, and I could slip it on wishing it was like Cinderella’s glass slipper. It never happened. She wears it every day and never takes it off.
“Yes, I’ve got your details, and you know where to find me. Did you pack your sun hat? The Californian sun is awfully strong.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“What about your sweaters? The night air may be chilly.”
“Yes, Mama. I’m not sure if I should be doing this. In fact, I know we shouldn’t be doing this,” I blurt out the words that were trapped earlier, ignoring our idle chit-chat about appropriate weather attire.
Despite my earlier acceptance of the situation, the reality is hard and cold, knocking me back and forth.
“You promised me you and Flynn would do this. Live your life, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll have the right people around me.”
“But maybe we should wait, you know, get you settled, then go.”
“Vladimir and Aunt Nellie will help me get settled. Besides, your interview is in two days, and this is your final round. You passed all the initial interviews with flying colors. They love you and haven’t even met you. I know this will work out for you, Milly.”
I know she won’t be fine—that’s what hurt the most. Relying on other people to take care of her, it’s their paid job, so they won’t be doing it out of love like we would. And, all of a sudden, the guilt hits me. The pain I had put my mother through, raising a teenage daughter who was fixed on making everyone’s life hell because she had no clue that her mother was already living a nightmare.
I owed her this.
For my mistakes.
My arms follow Mama’s actions, wrapping around her while we stand holding onto each other without saying anything. My grip is tight, not wanting t
o let go, remembering this moment, remembering her smell, the way her gray hair is always neatly tied up in a bun, and how I would tell her often that she needs to let it out since it’s beautiful.
“You need to go now, honey. You don’t want to miss that flight.”
I walk away, trying my best to hold it in, and as my steps take us further apart and reach the automatic doors, I turn back around one more time and see her standing by the truck. The smile that she wore earlier is no longer there, replaced by sadness and confusion as if she doesn’t know where she is or what she’s doing. If anything is going to break my heart, it will be that image of her feeling alone.