The night before they arrived, I stood in the guest suite fluffing pillows.
I remember touching the white comforter and thinking:
They’re finally going to see my life.
Not my salary.
Not my job title.
Not the daughter who transfers money when something breaks.
Me.
I barely slept.
Their plane landed at 11:42 Thursday morning.
I was at arrivals by eleven.
Flowers in my hand.
Dad had always liked daisies for Mom, so I bought daisies.
The terminal filled.
Passengers came through.
Families reunited.
Drivers held signs.
Kids jumped into grandparents’ arms.
I watched faces.
No Mom.
No Dad.
At 12:15, I checked the flight app.
LANDED.
At 12:25, I texted.
I’m by door 506 near baggage claim.
Nothing.
At 12:38, I called Mom.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Third call.
Fourth.
On the fifth, she picked up.
There was laughter behind her.
Music.
A television.
Maybe children nearby.
“Hi, sweetie!”
“Mom, where are you?”
“What?”
“I’m at the airport.”
“Oh.”
She sounded genuinely surprised.
“We landed early.”
“You landed at 11:42. I’ve been here.”
“Well, yes, but Hannah surprised us at baggage claim.”
I stopped walking.
“Hannah?”
My sister had moved to Denver eighteen months earlier after following a boyfriend west. The boyfriend lasted seven months. Hannah stayed.
She lived thirty minutes from me on the other side of the metro area.
“You’re with Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Her place.”
I could hear my sister laughing in the background.
I tightened my grip around the flower stems.
“Mom, you’re supposed to be staying here.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
That tone.
The soft one that always made me feel unreasonable before I had said anything unreasonable.
“Hannah has that extra room, and she insisted. It’s easier than moving back and forth.”
“There’s nothing to move back and forth. I booked a suite for you.”
“We’ll use it later.”
“You’re staying with her tonight?”
“It’s just tonight.”
I looked at the airport doors sliding open and closed.
“Why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“We assumed Hannah had.”
“No one did.”
“Don’t make this a thing, Sophia.”
A thing.
I looked down at the daisies.
“I bought the flights for you to come see me.”
“We did come.”
The sentence landed strangely.
“We’re thirty minutes away.”
“Exactly.”
Mom laughed.
“You make it sound like another state.”
I said nothing.
“Listen, your father wants lunch. Hannah found this cute place nearby. We’ll call you tonight.”
Click.
She was gone.
I stood in the terminal holding flowers until someone walking behind me said:
“Excuse me.”
I moved aside.
That was the beginning of the week.
Not the worst part.
Just the beginning.
I drove home.
The flowers sat on the passenger seat.
At a stoplight, I considered throwing them away.
Instead, I brought them upstairs and put them in water.
Some instincts take longer to die than others.
At four, Mom texted.
Having the best time catching up with your sister! Maybe dinner tomorrow?
I had a restaurant reservation for four that night.
I canceled it.
Then cooked anyway.
Chicken piccata.
Roasted potatoes.
Salad.
I told myself they might change their minds.
At 6:10, I set four plates.
At 6:25, Mom called.
“We’re exhausted.”
“From what?”
“Hannah took us shopping.”
I looked at the table.
“Dinner is ready.”
“Oh, honey. I wish you’d told us.”
I almost laughed.
“You knew.”
“What?”
“I told you yesterday I was cooking Thursday.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Hannah already made something.”
In the background, my sister called:
“Tell Soph she should come here!”
Mom repeated it.
“Hannah says come over.”
I looked at the food.
My clean kitchen.
The guest-suite key card sitting beside the fruit bowl.
“I took the week off.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“I took it off to spend with you.”
“And we will.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
They did not come Friday.
Dad texted at noon.
Hannah planned a drive to Boulder. You’d love it.
I stared at the message.
I had planned a foothills drive for Monday.
I replied:
I’m available. I took the whole week off.
No answer for forty minutes.
Then:
Already left.
That afternoon, Hannah posted a photograph.
The three of them near Pearl Street.
Dad in sunglasses.
Mom holding a shopping bag.
Hannah between them with both arms around their shoulders.
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