We’re boarding soon. She’s asking for Lily again. She keeps saying Lily’s name over and over. Sarah closed her eyes. Her mother’s face swam through the darkness. Not the mother she remembered strong and laughing and smelling of cinnamon rolls on Sunday mornings. This was someone else.
Someone trapped in a body that was shutting down piece by piece. Tell her we’re coming. Tell her Lily made her a card. Sarah. Rebecca’s voice cracked. The doctor said maybe a week, maybe less. But the way she looked tonight, I don’t think I don’t know if we’ll be there. 8 hours. Just keep her fighting for eight more hours.
She hung up before Rebecca could say anything else. Lily tugged at her sleeve. 8 years old, blonde hair tangled from sleeping in the airport chairs, eyes that same shade of green their mother used to have before the stroke stole everything. Mommy, is Grandma going to die? The question hits Sarah like a physical blow.
Grandma is very sick, sweetheart. But she wants to see you more than anything in the world. That’s why we’re getting on this plane. Oh, okay. So you can show her your card. Lily held up the construction paper masterpiece. Glitter hearts. Crooked letters spelling out get well, Grandma. A drawing of two stick figures holding hands, one tall and one small.
I made us holding hands so she remembers what we look like. Sarah’s throat closed up. She pulled Lily against her chest, breathing in the smell of her strawberry shampoo. She’ll love it, baby. She’ll love it so much. Boarding group C. Boarding group C, please approach the gate. Sarah gathered their bags. One carry-on stuffed with everything they might need for a week, maybe longer.
She’d left a message for her supervisor at Phoenix General explaining the family emergency. She’d figure out the consequences later. Right now, nothing mattered except getting Lily to Boston before it was too late. That’s when she saw him. He sat alone near the window, away from the families and business travelers clustered around the charging stations.Family
