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Published by Jennifer Lane
First Published by Omnific Publishing 2011
With only one hour until my flight, I was itching to get moving. But my mother’s hand remained latched onto my elbow. I glanced down at her restraining grip with scorn.
“Call me when you get there?” Her brown eyes were pleading.
I nodded, feeling my exasperation building.
“And don’t let them body scan you when you go through security. I don’t like all that radiation.”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I said.
“Opt out,” she ordered. “Do a pat-down.”
Getting groped by a TSA agent would be the most action I’d seen in my seventeen years on this earth. At least I’d have that. “Okay.”
“And, Abby, don’t get mugged.”
Getting mugged would definitely mean some action. “Aw,” I whined. “I wanted to get mugged this trip. Please?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Cute. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I wriggled free from her grip. “Parents don’t come on recruiting trips, Mom. That’d be weird.”
“This is your first solo flight — to a strange city too.”
“Chicago’s not strange. After all, Dad —” I stopped midstream, choking on my next words. Once my heartbeat slowed again I muttered, “Anyway, I’ll be fine.”
Mom gave me a sympathetic look. “Yes, your father grew up in Chicago. Why don’t you call him? I’m sure he’d love to join you up there, show you around —”
My icy glare cut her short.
“Honey, you can’t ignore him the rest of your life.”
“How do you do that?” I countered rather loudly, feeling my cheeks flush as nearby passengers glanced over.
“How do I do what?”
I lowered my voice, hearing it quiver. “How do you just forgive him?”
She gave me one of her sad smiles — the ones that made me want to scoop her in a hug and tell her it’d be okay, no matter how much she was annoying me with her clinginess. The ones that made me want to gouge out my dad’s eyeballs with a spoon.
“We were married twenty-three years, Abby. Your father may not love me anymore, but I still love him.”
I eyed her suspiciously, wondering what had brought on her Zen acceptance of their divorce. Apparently the sessions with her therapist were working. Then I saw her eyes mist over, and I was back to thinking therapy was a scam.
A tear escaped and slid down her cheek. Looking away, I blinked a few times, pressing my lips together.
I felt my mom’s warm hand cradle my face, drawing my eyes back to hers. Knowing I couldn’t handle an emotional scene in the middle of the Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport, even if it was somewhat deserted on an early Saturday morning, I leaned in for a quick hug. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll call when I get there, ’kay?”
She nodded, squeezing me tight, then stepping back, resigned. Her eyes shone, and she forced a smile. “Have a great time.”
My throat constricted, and all I could manage was a quick nod. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I grabbed the handle of my small roller bag and made my way to the line for security. When I snuck a glance back at Mom she waved, this time giving me a genuine smile.
“Go get ’em, Abby!”
Feeling bolstered, I turned back to the line and dug out my driver’s license.
My first college swimming recruiting trip — a chance to leave Cincinnati and all of my family problems behind. I couldn’t wait.