Los Angeles International Airport
“NOW DON’T FORGET to call when you get there,” Mom said as we got out of the car in front of the airline terminal.
“Yeah, Mom,” I said.
“Your grandfather will be waiting for you in Cheyenne when you get there, as you know, so don’t forget to call us once you’re at the ranch.”
“I know. I won’t forget,” I said. Dad rushed to get my luggage out of the trunk of his Audi sedan.
“And don’t forget to call when you arrive in New York at your Aunt Aidia’s,” Dad said, coming around the car toward me.
“Sure,” I said. He passed my luggage to me. I took it and released the handle so I could easily roll the bag.
“Give your dad a kiss, Sweet Pea,” he requested naturally. It didn’t matter to my parents that I was a full-fledged adult woman with a medical career. To them, I was still their sixteen-year-old girl. I didn’t mind it, really. We were a close-knit family and cared about each other. He gave me a kiss on the side of my head and then tapped my nose.
“All right, Mom,” I said as I turned toward her. We exchanged hugs and kisses.
“Here, you’ll want this, I’m sure.” She reached inside the car and gave me my messenger bag.
“Oh yeah, thanks,” I said, grateful that she remembered it.
“Tell Kyle to give us a call too before we leave for our trip. Your brother is always missing for far too long. I can never get a hold of him these days.”
“All right, I’ll tell him,” I said.
“Good. Give him and Dakota hugs and kisses from us, and wish them a Merry Christmas from us too,” Mom said.
“I will,” I agreed.
“We’re going to miss you kids for the holidays this year,” Dad said.
“Don’t worry about us. You and Mom just go ahead and have a nice time in Hawaii. You haven’t had a vacation together since I don’t know when. It’s long overdue.”
“I’m still concerned, you know. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us instead?” Mom asked.
“No, definitely not. Stop worrying about me. I’m fine,” I insisted. Mom sighed, looking at me with some skepticism.
“You’re sure?” she pressed.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” She didn’t believe me. She knew a lie when she heard one; being a former prosecutor, she could unravel anyone—especially her kids. But she didn’t press anymore and seemed to let her troubled thought go.
My mom, Bernadette Seveine Engle Esperanza, was a woman with a pleasant disposition. Especially when she decided to quit her longtime career as a federal attorney to instead become a law professor at UCLA.
My dad, Leonardo Miguel Cielo Esperanza, had a relatively friendly, easygoing disposition—particularly for being an army veteran. He served three tours in Vietnam as a field trauma surgeon before I was born and did a stint in the First and Second Gulf Wars until he ultimately settled as a burn specialist at the VA hospital here in LA. Now my parents have settled comfortably as a retired couple, living in the same house they have had for five decades in Santa Monica.
“She’ll be just fine, Bernadette,” Dad encouraged, assuaging Mom. But he knew otherwise too. “You better get going, Sweet Pea—don’t want to miss your flight.”
I glanced at my phone and caught the time. The plane would be boarding soon, and I could see through the terminal windows that the line through security was already long. It was going to take a while to get through it before I reached my departure gate.
“Okay, yeah, I better go,” I said, tucking my phone inside my coat pocket. I gave my parents one more hug and kiss before leaving them, then darted through the automatic glass doors and inside the terminal.
After scanning my e-ticket and easily checking myself into my flight, which helped me bypass the long line at the airline counter, I staked out my place at the end of the security line. I anxiously waited in line with everyone else who was departing before I finally entered the security checkpoint. Passing through the metal detector, I shoved my toes back inside my red pumps and grabbed my carry-on luggage. I trotted toward the correct airline gate just in time to board my flight headed to Cheyenne. I was making a pit stop in Wyoming to visit my grandfather and his wife before arriving at my final destination in New York City.
After pushing my suitcase inside the overhead compartment on board the airplane, I was happy to finally take my seat. I tucked my messenger bag beneath the seat in front of me and retrieved my phone from my coat pocket to check my messages. While waiting for everyone to board the plane, I sent out a couple of emails to my close colleagues at the pediatric medical practice we shared. I also texted my brother, Kyle, who lived in Manhattan with his wife, Dakota. I was very much looking forward to the visit, since we hadn’t seen each other in a little over a year. After texting, I browsed the Web to further pass the time before the plane was ready to depart.
Noticing that it was going to be a full flight as passengers continued streaming into the cabin, I knew that I wasn’t going to have the luxury of an open seat next to me as I glanced at the crowded aisle. A pleasant middle-aged, beachy couple moved awkwardly down the aisle with their young son, their hands full between the young child they were minding and the carry-on luggage they were holding. Their child appeared to be approxi‐ mately four years old, and he was cute as a button with plump pink cheeks, big brown eyes, and slightly long, wavy auburn hair nearly touching his shoulders. His parents seemed to have their hands curiously full with him as they passed by my seat. The toddler boy was quite expressive and communicative while he asked his father all sorts of questions about flying on an airplane. It seemed that it was the boy’s first flight. He was evidently amazed by his surroundings, and between his tiny tightly grip‐ ping fingers was a pin of airline wings that the captain had given him the minute the family had boarded.
Watching the family pass by made me think about my own circumstances. My child probably would have been a few months younger than this cute little boy walking by me now if the acci‐ dent hadn’t occurred. It had been three and a half years since it happened, and not a day went by that I didn’t lament and dwell on it. The sadness at times was unbearable. So when I could, I forced the memory of my unexpected tragic loss out of my mind, not wanting to be reminded of it.
“Hi,” a young man said, appearing to be about my age, as he lifted his carry-on baggage up into the overhead compartment.
“Hi,” I replied modestly, interrupted in my thoughts as I observed him close the compartment door. He proceeded to sit in the aisle seat next to me. He was noticeably attractive, with a slightly chiseled face, dark-brown hair, and blue eyes.
“Thought I was going to miss my flight. I should’ve just shown up in boxers—would’ve made it through security a lot quicker, I’m sure,” he joked.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I laughed a little. “But you might have been arrested for indecency, and then you really would’ve missed your flight.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Enjoying the friendly skies is long gone, unfortunately.”
“Yeah.”
“Oh well,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Such a long time ago, it seems.”
“It does seem long ago. And we aren’t that old.”
“I know.” He lightly chuckled as he fastened his seat belt, ready to go. “But I always sound old, though, whenever I fly.”
“Oh.” I smiled.
“I liked it better when I was a kid.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Everything was easier, straightforward and fun. Not
like it is today with so many obstacles in the way. I’m wondering when they’ll start asking me for my ID to buy a cup of coffee,” he said ironically.
“Hopefully not before we land,” I said.
“Yeah, no kidding,” he responded with a grin.
The door at the front of the plane had been latched shut, and
one of the flight attendants began speaking over the intercom. While the flight attendant was giving instructions, the plane jarred a little as it started backing away from the terminal and taxied out onto the tarmac. My neighbor retrieved his phone from his pocket and checked the time. He then placed his phone on his lap, and I gazed out the window as we rode down the runway. There were several planes ahead of us waiting to move, so we waited for a little while before taking off. The flight attendants had already taken their seats, and the cabin was quiet from further announce‐ ments, leaving passengers to speak quietly among themselves.
“So, are you from Wyoming?” my neighbor asked.
“No,” I said. “I’m from LA. I’m visiting my grandfather and his new wife there.”
“Oh, I see. Should’ve known,” he said.
“Why?” I asked curiously.
“You’re too pretty a girl to be from there,” he said.
“What?” I asked awkwardly. “Well, I’m sure there are plenty of
pretty girls there too.”
“None like you, I can tell ya,” he said confidently as he shook
his head a bit.
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“I’m from there.”
“Are you?” I responded surprisedly.
“Yeah. I was born there. Lived there my whole life until I went
to college.” “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“So, where did you go to college?”
“I went to Cal Tech and studied computer engineering. I work
for Sony now as a programmer,” he said.
“Do you work at the studio in Culver City?”
“Yep.”
“Oh,” I said, impressed.
“How about you?”
“I’m a pediatrician. I share a practice in Santa Monica with
some colleagues of mine from medical school.”
“That’s great. Where did you go to med school?” he
inquired.
“Harvard,” I said. “Harvard?” “Yeah.”
“Wow, nice,” he said. “I’m Jim, by the way.” He introduced himself and stretched out a large hand for me to shake.
“I’m Sylvina,” I said, shaking his smooth hand. “That’s a beautiful name,” he remarked. “Thank you,” I said.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said.
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied politely.
“Oh,” he said, hesitating briefly. “I should’ve known.”
“Known what?”
“Your husband’s a lucky man.” He noticed the sparkling plat‐
inum bands on my wedding ring finger. His eyes locked on to the flawless two-carat, cushion-cut pink diamond glittering in the sunlight coming through the window beside me.
“Thank you,” I said demurely. I didn’t reveal the fact that I was a widow. Instead, I chose to leave the impression as it was because in my heart I was still married, and I wanted it to remain that way. Coping with the loss of my husband was something that remained at the forefront of my consciousness every day, and I didn’t know if I could ever move beyond the void it had created in my life.
My travel companion didn’t have much else to say after he observed the ring on my finger, except for a few humorous comments here and there that we both got a chuckle out of. I spent most of the time in flight listening to music on my phone, working a little on my laptop, and napping. Overall, the flight was comfortable, except for a bout of light turbulence, which bounced and rocked the plane a bit like a small roller coaster. The jarring didn’t last for long, though, and the rest of the flight was smooth.
After several hours, we landed easily, and I disembarked, wishing my traveling companion a nice farewell.
When I arrived at my grandfather Ed’s sprawling Wyoming ranch, I was happy to be reunited with him and his new wife, Julie. They placed me in a nice guest bedroom for my brief visit, where I could glance out the windows and view the Grand Tetons in the background. The snowcapped mountains were toned in hues of cool gray and lavender against a cloudless light Prussian blue sky, and the earth seemed calm but formidable. The scene was captivating, and it inspired me to wonder about my true place in the world. I often thought about it when I was alone since I had lost my husband and infant to an untimely death. But I thought about what had happened to me even more so now, since the awe-inspiring environment surrounding me was still and quiet, removed from the noise of everyday distrac‐ tions consuming my mind back at home.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through this holiday season, as I turned away from the windows feeling bereft of happiness.
***
TODAY. New York City.
It was biting cold outside. I scurried in from the winter air as
I rushed inside Dean & DeLuca Café in the Village. Dakota and I had planned to meet here for lunch, since it was close to the bookshop she owned. I glanced around the café for a table and spotted a couple of free seats in front of a large window. Dakota hadn’t arrived yet, so I quickly grabbed the vacant seats and made myself comfortable.
Shortly, a waitress came up to me and took my order for hot cocoa and a peanut butter cookie. She was young and pretty, and seemed nice. She appeared to be about twenty years old, and was most likely a NYU student, I gathered. But, I thought to myself, why on earth would she have cut her blonde hair so short, spiked it up like a pineapple top, and dip-dyed it bright carmine? And what on earth possessed her to have pierced her nose and bottom lip with noticeable, small silver studs? I just didn’t understand it. I also wondered about the black nail polish on her dainty fingers and the strange interlacing Celtic tattoo around her wrist. It never failed to baffle me why some girls her age would tarnish their attractive looks that way.
I shrugged mentally. Live and let live, I supposed.
“Okay,” said the waitress as she took my order with a pleasant smile, then left me by the window.
The café was becoming packed with people. The lunch crowd had arrived. I sensed it was going to be a moment before the waitress would return with my order, so I picked up the stray Newsweek magazine laying on the empty chair next to me and started flipping through the pages. Before I started reading too far into one of the news articles, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check the time: 12:10 p.m.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Dakota said suddenly as she swept through the place and slid into the seat beside me.
“No problem. How are you?” I asked.
“Great, except frozen. I need a coffee or hot cocoa,” she said. “I’ve got hot cocoa coming.”
“Sounds good. I think I’ll order the same.” She quickly flagged
the waitress and ordered. “Did you also order lunch already?” “Just a cookie,” I said as our waitress left us.
“A cookie? Is that all?” she asked.
“I know that’s bad, but I’m not too hungry.”
“Still, you could have a salad or something.”
“I know,” I said.
“All right,” Dakota said, and snatched the café menu from the
middle of the table to look at it. “Okay, I’ve decided,” she said, making a hasty decision. She just as swiftly returned the menu to the center of the table and proceeded to order for both of us when our waitress returned.
It was nice seeing Dakota again, and it was pleasant having lunch together like we often did when we were in college. She and I were best friends in school. I was thrilled when she told me that we were going to be sisters once my brother had proposed to her. I really enjoyed her company because she had a unique sense of humor, was carefree, and we had a lot in common. Her wry, mocking sense of humor always caught me off guard with laugh‐ ter. She could always shed light on a grim situation and made me consider a less serious side to life. But the most important thing about Dakota was that she was extremely supportive of me when my husband died, and for that, I would always be grateful to her. She was my best friend, and she was my sister.
“So tell me. How are you doing?” she asked me as the waitress set piping hot cups of hot cocoa before us along with my cookie.
“All right, I suppose,” I answered.
“That’s a load of crap. I can tell just by looking at you,” she said. “You look awful.” One thing about Dakota was that she could always be depended on for her frankness. “What? Well, you do,” she said, clearly observing the annoyance on my face.
“Thanks,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“Seriously, are you eating?”
“Am I eating? You mean am I going to eat here with you? Uh,
obviously, yes,” I said. Dakota frowned at me.
“Well, you’re too thin. Nobody is gaunt on purpose,” she said
sarcastically.
“Do I look that thin?” I asked with a little concern.
“Maybe not that thin. But any thinner, you would,” she
answered honestly.
“I haven’t been that hungry lately,” I admitted. Dakota nodded
contemplatively.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Sylvie. You’ve always been beauti‐
fully thin. People would die to have your natural ballerina figure, but right now you’re too thin. You need to eat—regularly.”
“I do eat regularly. Now can we just leave it alone?”
“Fine, for now.” We both took a sip of our hot cocoa. “So, are you dating anybody?” she asked as she set her mug on the glass tabletop.
“No.”
“You’re still not ready,” she commented. Her tone was one of understanding rather than nosy persistence.
“No. I’m not,” I replied honestly. She shrugged a little with a compassionate look.
“Maybe in time,” she responded thoughtfully.
“I don’t think so,” I said certainly.
“I understand. But don’t be so sure, because you never know
how life will turn out.”
“I know what you’re saying. I hear you, but I just don’t feel it.” “I’m not pushing you.”
“No... I know.”
Our waitress finally returned to our table with our order and
carefully placed our food in front of us. She inquired if we needed anything else. Dakota and I were both satisfied, so our waitress retreated and we were left alone again.
“Did you visit your Aunt Aidia?” Dakota asked as she bit into her panini.
“Yeah.”
“How is she?”
“Great. She gave me the recipe for her chocolate lava cake. I
can’t wait to try it out,” I replied as I scooped up a bit of Chinese chicken salad onto my fork.
“Mmm... sounds good. Are you going to eat any of it once you make it?” Dakota asked. I gave her a quirky grin.
“Maybe,” I said.
“Well, make sure you give me some when you make it.”
“For sure.”
“Promise me you’ll make it when we get to my parents’
house.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, smiling.
“My parents are really excited to have all of us this year for
Christmas.”
“It should be nice,” I agreed. “Is your sister and her family
coming too?”
“Mm-hmm, they’re arriving today from DC,” she informed me. “Desiree is big as a house with her third child. They’re driving. The plane was off-limits for her because of all the restrictions. It’s a pain—especially with two- and three-year-old toddler boys.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be,” I said.
“I think they’re having a boy again this time.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see. She’s kinda got her hands full with two
right now.”
“I’m sure she’ll be all right.”
“She was hoping for a girl, though, to kinda offset the boys’
energy.” Dakota and I both laughed a little. “She and her husband have agreed that three is the limit.”
“So they’re not going to try for any more afterward for sure?” I inquired.
“No, they’ve made up their minds.”
“Oh.”
“Seriously. Isn’t it amazing, though, how there are plenty of
others who keep trying and trying until they get what they want?”
“I know.”
“I assure you, that would never be me.”
“Nor me,” I agreed. Dakota lifted a knowing eyebrow and
subtly nodded her head. “So, I take it you and my brother still don’t see yourselves having kids?” I asked casually. Dakota stuffed her mouth full of her panini again and began chewing.
“Well,” she started with a mouth full of her sandwich, “I’m not ready for that. But Kyle wants one.”
“Does he?” I asked interestedly.
“Yeah. But I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know...” she said as she chewed. “I like owning my
own business. There’s just so much to my bookshop that I really enjoy. Plus, I haven’t gotten to the point yet where I can hire a good manager to look out for it when I’m not around,” Dakota explained after she swallowed the food in her mouth.
“Oh.” I understood. “So, you mean if you got to the point where your business allowed you more freedom, then you’d be ready for a child?”
“Well... I don’t know. The thought of being solely responsible for an innocent human being kinda freaks me out a little. Besides, I still just like being able to hang out with our friends— go to a play or movie every once in a while, whenever I want to. I couldn’t do that with a kid,” Dakota said honestly.
“There are babysitters, you know?” I suggested.
“Sure there are. But how would you—” she interrupted herself.
“It’s okay,” I reassured.
“Well, I was just going to say, you’re even busier than I am. I mean, you’re a physician. How were you going to handle being a mom and a professional at the same time?” she asked.
“Our plan was that I was going to take some time off with the baby, then I’d go back to work,” I answered.
“So, were you going to hire a nanny once you returned to work?” she inquired.
“No. We were going to leave the baby with my parents.”
“Oh.”
“Besides, I was also going to shorten my work week by a day,
since I could do that with my practice.”
“Oh,” she said thoughtfully. “That sounds like a workable situ‐
ation.” I nodded a little. “You know, Kyle told me that men are at the mercy of women when it comes to having children.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That it’s really women who decide when men can have chil‐ dren. Essentially, if we don’t want to, then it’s not happening— but if we do, then all of a sudden, there is a baby,” she said.
“Hmm... That’s interesting.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Well, Matt and I both really wanted to.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t want to, then would it have
happened?” she asked, lifting her brow in question. I thought about it.
“I see your point,” I replied.
“Exactly,” she said. “Hey?”
“Hmm?” I took another bite of my salad.
“Not to abruptly change the subject, but have you packed yet?
Because we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“I just have a few things left to put in my suitcase. I’m pretty
much done.”
“That’s good, because I still need to pack everything before
Kyle comes home. I need to close the shop early today to do that.” “What time does he want to leave tomorrow?” I inquired. “Early. He wants to be out of town by seven at the latest, since
we’ve got an all-day drive,” she said.
“Okay,” I said.
“Wanna hang out with me while I close up the shop? Keep me
company while I pack?” she requested as her glance fell onto my figure skates resting by the window. “Oh, you went skating?”
“I was going to,” I replied.
“Oh, okay, then go,” she said instead.
“Well, sure, I can keep you company,” I responded.
“No, no, it’s okay, just go and have fun,” she encouraged.
“Are you sure? Cause it’s no big deal.”
“Yeah, no, go skate. It’ll be good for you.”
“Okay.”
“Which rink are you going to?”
“The Pond.”
“Oh, it’s nice there.”
“Yeah. I’m only going for a couple hours. So I can still help
you pack if you’d like.”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Hey, do you think we could stop off at Amherst on the way and go to Atkins to get some of those cider doughnuts?” I asked eagerly.
“Mmm, of course! How could we not? I wouldn’t think of driving through without stopping,” Dakota said excitedly.
“I wish we had enough time to visit our campus. It would be so nice to walk around,” I said, reminiscing.
“I know, like old times.”
“Yeah.”
“I loved Mount Holyoke.”
“Me too. It seems like I was just there yesterday.”
“Please don’t remind me,” I said ironically.
“Spare me. You look like a kid still,” Dakota scoffed. “So, yes,
we’ll definitely stop for those doughnuts.”
“Yum.”
On the heels of our conversation, we agreed that I would meet her back at her home at four o’clock.
