Charlotte “Viens, viens, mon amour,” I say to Arabella as she struggles to put her last Mary Jane on. “Attendre maman,” she calls out. She buckles her shoe and runs over to me, placing her little hand in mine. “Where’s dad?” “La toilette,” “Can I have the window seat?” A smile spreads across my face. We had this conversation when we bought these tickets and a million times in the car. “You know the answer to that question.” “Maman, are we going to miss the avion since papa’s en la toilette?” I laugh. She has been speaking frenglish for a while now, but it still melts my heart when she speaks it. “Don’t worry sweetie, we got here in plenty of time,” I say and rustle her hair. “Non!” she says, smoothing it out. “Keep it straight.” “Bella,” Conor says, coming out of the bathroom and scooping her up. “What do you say to you and I going to get some yummy Jamba juice?” “Yeah!” she says, giggling. I take her backpack and Conor’s bag and head towards the gate. When I first found out I was pregnant I completely freaked out because I knew my mom wouldn’t want me to get an abortion but Conor and I weren’t in the steadiest place. Conor had moved to Paris when we decided to live together, but once all the small fights began, he started looking for one-bedroom apartments. I just didn’t want to raise a baby alone. My mom kept having to convince me that everything was going to work because I had a steady job and would be able to pay for help, but I couldn’t shake the fact that my baby might not have a father. After all, growing up with my dad were some of my best memories. This may sound lifetime movie-esque, but I could tell Conor got on board when he first held our Arabella. Her eyes were still closed and she was screaming her head off, but she was perfect and he knew it. I set our bags down on a couple of empty seats and close my eyes. “Excuse me,” I hear. I open my eyes to see a girl around ten years old standing next to me. “Are those seats taken?” she asks, looking at the couple of empty seats next to the ones with our bags on them. “Oh no, go ahead,” I say and look up at her mom who is trailing behind her. Something about the woman makes me pause and search my mind. How do I know her? Does she just have one of those faces? Her brown hair falls loosely down by her shoulders as she makes sure she doesn’t hit anyone with her bags as she makes her way to the seats. The moment she sits down, she looks at me smiling. We stare at each other for a second before she turns to her daughter and hands her, what looks like, her ticket. “Keep this with you,” she says. I know that voice. Not well but I know it. Then, all of a sudden, I remember. Remember that one day years ago, when I was just a little naive teenager. I had met her in this exact airport heading to the exact place. “Jenna.” She looks up. “Charlotte, I knew I recognized you,” she says. “How are you?” “I’m good. Wow, it’s been, what, fourteen years?” “Fourteen years.” Jenna I always knew my daughter was going to be like me. Even when I was a teenager I always had the image of me and my daughter doing the exact same things that my mom and I used to do together. Ever since Juliana was born, that’s exactly what we’ve been doing. When my mom finally moved out to San Diego, I spent a year there with her before going back to New York, getting my degree and starting work at Cosmopolitan Magazine. At one cover photo shoot I met Tim. He was the photographer and I fell in love with him the moment he put down his camera and asked the stylist to show a little bit more skin around the stomach. Juliana only made our love stronger. “Why are we here so early?” Juliana asks, as I hand her her carry-on. “You know me, I don’t like to have to rush at the last minute,” I say, looking at the check-in desk to see that is it pretty much empty. “Whenever grandma and I travel, we always rush.” “Yeah, that’s why I don’t like to. But when you are older, you can rush your family as much as you want,” I say, closing the trunk. I walk over to the driver side of the car and hand my mom the keys. “You know, Mom, you can open the trunk with a button up by here,” I say looking around for the button. “I know, but it’s so much easier with the keys, sweetie.” I roll my eyes at her and lean in for a hug. “I don’t want you guys to leave.” “I know, Mom, but Juliana has school and I have work. We will come out again soon. And next time, we’ll bring Tim if he doesn’t have work.” She looks up at me with the same eyes she has been looking at me with for years. A feeling of love and protection floods out of them. I kiss her cheek letting her know that we will always be here for her. “Juliana, come give grandma a kiss.” She walks over and leans in, whispering something in her ear. They both laugh. “You’re turning out to be a beautiful young woman. So much like your mother,” my mom says, caressing Juliana’s cheek. “I love you.” “Love you too.” Being my daughter, Juliana stands in the check-in line and the security line listening to her iPod and texting away. “Can you please find us a couple seats while I check the status of our plane?” I ask, Juliana getting no response. I pluck one of her headphones from he ear. “Mom, please.” “Juliana, I ask you to find seats.” “Okay, I will,” she says, putting her earphone back in. I look at the departures board to see that our flight is on time. Perfect. I look over at Juliana who is talking to this woman. I walk over to her and attempt to get through the small crowd of people’s legs without bumping them with my bags. I had her her ticket and look up at the lady Juliana had spoken to. She is looking at me with a slight questioning expression on her face. I smile at her, but am slightly puzzled how I know her. Is that Charlotte from a million years ago? I would look like an idiot if I ask her and was wrong. Plus, my daughter would be embarrassed but that’s minor because when do I not embarrass her? “Jenna?” the woman asks. I was right! I really need to learn to take chances when I think I might be right about something. All through high school and college I would think I knew an answer and would spend five minutes trying to get up the courage to say it on the off chance I would be wrong and then someone else would swoop in and say my answer and get all the credit. Not that this is the same thing, but still. A quick note to self. “Charlotte, I knew I recognized you,” I say. “How are you?” “I’m good. Wow, it’s been, what, fourteen years?” “Fourteen years.” I look over at Juliana, all plugged in, and give her a small nudge. “What?” she says, adjusting herself in her seat so she is not as close to me. “I would like you to meet Charlotte. I met her here fourteen years ago.” Juliana looks at me as if to say, ‘that’s fantastic Mom.’ She then looks at Charlotte, smiles and says, “it’s nice to meet you.” She goes back to going though her iPod trying to drown out the current situation. “She’s beautiful,” Charlotte says. “Do you have kids?” All of a sudden, this little girl comes running up to Charlotte holding a cup of Jamba Juice shouting, “Jamba se tres tres bon!” “This,” Charlotte says, lifting her up onto her lap. “Is Arabella.” I look at Arabella in her little pink dress and Mary-Janes and see Charlotte. “And this is my husband, Conor.” I look at Charlotte who smiles, blushing. “The Conor?” I ask, smiling. She nods. “We’re only missing Savannah,” Charlotte says. And, like clockwork, we hear a familiar voice. “Charlotte? Jenna?” We turn towards the voice and see the missing Savannah, all grown up. Her once simple blonde hair is now up in a half ponytail. She is wearing a sleek black dress that catches every curve of her body and black high-heeled boots. “Savannah,” Charlotte and I say in unison. Savannah “No, no I said for the plants to be outside the door not inside. How are they going to get the sun they need if they are inside? Just put them outside, water them and then call me when they get there. Things will be fine. Put a small smile on your face, and greet them. I’ll fix things when I get there.” I here a faint ‘ok’ then hang up. I always get stressed around the time I’m supposed to show someone a house, but this one is all the more important because it’s for a client with money and the real estate market is not amazing right now. I had another one of these clients last month, but I had accidently showed them a property that had tulips along the walkway and during the showing, her allergies started acting up and had to leave right away. About a week ago I got a call from our office in New York asking me to help sell one of their larger condos in downtown TriBeCa (my friend works there). So here I am, in the San Diego Airport heading to what I once considered my home away from home, New York. I take out my phone and quickly call my mom. When I graduated from Columbia, I moved back home until I got job at the real estate office, when I began to pick up business, I bought my own place. It’s only a couple minutes away from Mom’s house so we have dinner with each other at least once a week. “Yeah, I’m at the airport. I’ll make sure to get you something in New York if I have time,” I say, simultaneously looking for my gate. “I love you too.” As I see gate 23 ahead of me, I check my phone to see how long I’m going to have to wait. As I get closer, I scan the area for empty seats, then, out of nowhere, I hear my name. I turn around to see Charlotte and Jenna sitting with what could be their families. “Charlotte? Jenna?” They turn around and look me up and down. “Savannah,” they say in unison. Charlotte takes one of her bags off a seat for me to sit down. “Wow,” I say. “How long has it been?” “Fifteen years,” the young girl next to Jenna says looking at all of us. “Oh,” Jenna says. “This is my daughter, Juliana.” She smiles at me. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “And this is...
Charlotte “Dad and I are going to get the paper. Do you want any magazines or candy?” Without looking up at my mom, I shake my head. Normally I would jump up and grab every magazine on the rack, and my favorite milk chocolate M and Ms, but now, ever since two Sundays ago, my cell phone is permanently glued to my hand. The moment my mom walks away, the new part of my hand buzzes. I miss you already I feel my checks turn red and look around to see if anyone notices this. Nothing. Six months is too long I write back imagining the morning sun against his face as he goes about his morning duty of dropping his little sister off at school. That’s what he was doing when I met him. My aunt Lea was taking my cousin Joey to school and he wanted me to bring him in. We walked in and I saw Conor. Apparently Joey and his sister are friends so she came running over to us and he followed. He offered to take my to get some coffee since it was after all eight in the morning. We sipped and talked and pretty soon we were inseparable. What hurt the most was telling him that I live in Paris, a nine-hour difference. “Charlotte,” I hear my dad say. “I got you these anyway. Thought you might want them for the flight.” He drops a bag of M and Ms on my lap. “Thanks,” I say, finally looking at my parents. “Who are you texting? Nassima? Aurelie? Clara?” my mom says, naming a few of my friends back in Paris. “No, Mom, just a friend from here,” I say, putting my phone in my pocket. “I know you’re not thrilled to go back, but it wont be so long until the summer and then you can come back here if you want.” “Not soon enough,” I say under my breath. “What?” “Nothing.” Attention passengers for flight 196 to Newark airport. The flight is now delayed due to weather conditions in New York. We will continue to update you on the status. Jenna The car screeches to a stop right by the side of jet blue curbside check in. “See, told you we would make it,” my mom says. “Jenna, you mind to go check in for us while I got park the car?” I let myself out, grab the two immensely heavy bags and attempt to pulls them towards the check-in. Here we go again, always rushing at the last possible moment. My mom always says it’s the New Yorkers in us, but I just think we are both really bad with time management. I still don’t know why we couldn’t allow Julia to drive us here. “She opened her house to us, I don’t want her to have to do any more for us,” my mom said last night. But now that we let her sleep in, she still has to come to the airport later today and return the care. Whatever. “Are these the only bags you’re checking?” I hear behind me. “Yeah, and checking in for a flight to Newark.” “Name?” “Jenna and Kristen Parker.” “I can’t check Kristen in without her and her ID.” “Please, our flight is in forty minutes. She just went to park the car.” “I’m sorry. Rules are rules.” I roll my eyes and begin to check myself in. Twenty minutes later, my mom comes running from the parking lot, holding her passport out. “Sorry, sorry. I had to park the car and there weren’t any spaces.” “Mom,” I say, slightly irritated. “We have to go.” “I know,” she says and hands her passport over. Of course, with out timing, security takes forever. For several minutes, the line doesn’t move an inch. Finally, a security guard comes up to us asking if we had a flight leaving in the next hour. The moment she sees our boarding time, she rushes us to the front of the line. The moment we pass security, we run to the gate. There are two available seats right near the gate. We sit down and await the announcement to start boarding. Attention passengers for flight 196 to Newark airport. The flight is now delayed due to weather conditions in New York. We will continue to update you on the status. Savannah I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself again. I love New York, but last semester’s homesickness really made my view of it as negative. The increasingly cold weather did not help either. This break made my fear of homesickness even worse. I was greeted at home with the usual warm love. My bedroom was all clean with fresh sheets and my acceptance letter to Columbia University hangs on my wall. The night I got home, my mom had made my favorite meal of lamb chops and we had watched the movie that we always used to watch before I went away to my month long sleep away camp: The Parent Trap. The entire break I was my moms little helper. We decorated our Christmas tree, went shopping for the families Christmas presents, and every night, after my little sister Maya went to sleep, we would cozy up by the tree and drink hot coco. “Sweetie, don’t forget your new bag,” my mom says, handing me the Coach bag she had gotten me for Christmas. “You want to be fashionable in New York now don’t you.” I smile and force my tears back. I know I am strong enough to do this, but right now, as we are standing in the airport, a degree from Columbia University doesn’t seem as important as my family. “Mom,” I begin. “I don’t think… I don’t want…” “Savannah, everything is going to be fine. Maya and I will visit you soon and don’t forget about our Wednesday night skype sessions, right?” I nod and realize my face is already stained with my lava hot tears. “Savannah, don’t cry,” Maya says. “I love you.” “I love you too.” I give them a quick hug and make my legs race away before I am able to convince myself to stay. When I arrive at my gate, I look around to see who I’m going to be on a plane with for the next five hours. There are mostly adults. I spot two girls around my age with their family, but no one to really become friendly with. I am alone. Attention passengers for flight 196 to Newark airport. The flight is now delayed due to weather conditions in New York. We will continue to update you on the status. Charlotte Flight is delayed Within seconds he writes back. I hope it gets cancelled : ) I feel my cheeks begin to redden once again. How is it that he makes me feel so alive? I glance around the terminal to see if there are any shops that I could spend any time in. Hudson news, McDonalds, California Pizza Kitchen, the same old thing. Then, out of the corner of my eyes, I notice a couple of men pulling away gates, revealing what looks like another lounge. “Ill be right back,” I say and walk away before my parents can say anything. “What’s this?” I ask one of the men. “The new lounge.” I look at this little space placed in a corner of the airport. There are colorful couches, a big screen TV and a huge window that allows me to look out and see all the activity on the runway. I take a seat on the dark blue couch and close my eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I hear, quickly open my eyes and get on my feet. “I thought this place was empty.” “Oh, no, but it can be.” “Nonsense, at least you’re not my mom.” I smile unsure of what to say. “I’m Jenna by the way.” “Charlotte.” Jenna “You know what we forgot to do?” My mom asks. “We forgot to get presents for my friends at work.” “Yeah Mom, I think that’s something you forgot to do. I don’t know your work friends.” “Don’t be silly Jenna, you know Lucy and Carmen.” “Oh right, I forgot about that dinner that we had five years ago where I was barely aware of anything since I was so drugged up on flu medicine,” I say sarcastically. “Well, they love you.” I smile and nod. There’s no point in trying to get my mom to understand. “Come and see if we can find something for them here.” “Okay, I have nothing better to do.” We make our way through the terminal when I see this cozy corner come out of nowhere. It looks empty and rather peaceful. “I’m going to go over there. Come get me when you’re done.” “You don’t want to shop with me?” “I’m tired Mom. I’m going to go close my eyes for a bit.” I make my way over to find this small isolated space. Just as I am about to sit down and finally let myself relax, I see someone on the dark blue couch, eyes closed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. She jumps up as if she had been caught doing something wrong. “I thought this place was empty.” “Oh, no, but it can be.” “Nonsense, at least you’re not my mom. I’m Jenna,” I say, sitting down on the maroon couch. “Charlotte.” I look out at the crowded terminal and take a breath. I am so not ready to go back to everything in New York. “I think we have someone else joining us,” I say, eyeing a girl walking towards us. She comes into the cozy corner, smiles and takes a seat near the window. All she does is position her coat as a pillow under her head and stare out the window. “Are you okay?” I ask. She turns to look at me with her red, watery eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” “Well, I’m Jenna and this is Charlotte. What’s your name?” “Savannah.” Savannah “It’s delayed,” I say to my mom over the phone. “Yes, I’m sure. No, I’m sure it’s going to be going soon, they just said stuff about the weather. Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll call you if there is a cancelation. I love you too.” I close my phone and secretly pray to myself that the flight gets cancelled so that I have one more night with my mom and Maya. I walk back over to my seat to find some old woman sitting in it. “Oh sweetie, is this your seat? I couldn’t find another one and assumed this bag was this other young woman’s. Would you like me to move?” I sigh, smile at her and say, “No, you stay right where you are.” She smiles back at me. I grab my bag and walk away looking for another seat. I see a girl around my age walk over to this cozy corner that seems to be empty. Maybe I can get some quiet time there. There are two girls sitting on the couches, talking. I smile at them and make my way over to a couch near the window and settle down staring at the home I will soon be leaving once again. I can feel my eyes well up. I pray I can control them enough to not fall down my cheeks. “Are you okay?” I hear one of...