Page 5 of That First Flight

Five Months Ago

“You don’t have any two seats next to each other on the plane?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The flight is booked solid,” the gate attendant says. “If you want to wait, I can get you set up on the next flight to New York.”

“When is that?” I ask, full of hope.

“Not for another nine hours.”

“Dammit,” I groan. “Fine. I’ll take these two.”

I grab my tickets off the counter as Mackenzie and I make our way to the seats designated for all the passengers boarding the next flight out of Montana. I’m not waiting another nine hours to get out of this hellhole.

My decision to book a one-way ticket to New York without telling a soul where I was going was initially just a plan to piss off my parents. Living with them is overbearing and miserable. They treat Mackenzie like she’s theirs and make me feel like I’m incapable of being her mom. I constantly feel like I’m never even given the chance to be the mom I know I can be with them hanging every mistake over my head.

I know grandparents are amazing. As they should be. But I could never get past how much they have tried to take control over her. For the last few years, they have been trying to mold her into whotheywant her to be and not whoshewants to be.

Mackenzie ismydaughter, not theirs.

Every waking moment is a chance for them to judge me on how I decide to parent her, whether it’s what I feed her for dinner, or how I let her stay up until nine instead of eight. And they never once miss the opportunity to throw my ‘fuck up’ of getting pregnant at sixteen in my face. They constantly play on my weakness—my daughter. And I can’t have her thinking that’s normal. That’s not what love is.

I reached my breaking point late last night after yetanotherargument with them over what she had for dinner. She had pasta with meatballs, but it wasn’t gluten free and it’s‘too heavy for a dinner before bed.’ The argument might seem minor, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I immediately packed two suitcases. And as soon as they left for work this morning, I took a taxi to the airport and knew I wanted to get us out of here as fast as I could.

This trip has turned into me taking the first steps towards building the future I’ve always wanted, despite the guilt eating me alive over finally doing something for me. But when you spend eight years caring for someone else and locked under the metaphorical chains of your parents who don’t give a damn about your own goals, you realize that it’s finally time for you to do something for yourself.

I want to show my daughter that it’s never too late to chase your dreams.

To add to this train wreck of a morning, Mackenzie is not happy about this decision. I don’t blame her, I’m pulling her from her school and all the friends she’s made over the years. Small town living means you’re in the same school, with the same group of kids from kindergarten until high school. She’s old enough to understand why we’re doing it, but that doesn’t make me feel less guilty for uprooting her entire life.

A middle-aged man takes a seat next to me. He looks alone.

“Hi, sir? Are you boarding this flight solo?”

“I am,” he grunts in annoyance.

“Any chance you’re sitting by row 9 or row 23?”

“I’m in row 9, actually. Why do you ask?”

“You see—” I start, but stop myself because I’m a known blabbermouth. I’ll spill my entire life to a stranger out of pure nerves. “My daughter and I got separated with tickets and I was wondering if you would be able to switch seats with me so I can sit next to her?”

“Where are you sitting?”

“Row 23,” I say.

“Sorry. No can do,” he says matter-of-factly while shaking his head. “Too far in the back for me. I want to get off the flight as fast as I can when we land.”

“I understand.” My head falls in defeat.

We haven't even left the state and I already feel like I'm failing my daughter. A twinge of panic sets in, causing me to falter and wonder if we really should be doing this.

“Mom, it’s fine.” Mackenzie nudges me with her elbow. “Once we’re up in the air, the doors are locked and I can’t go anywhere.”

“I know, but I can’t stand you being that far away from me.”

“I’m not a baby,” she says with full conviction. “I’m almost a teenager. I can handle a flight. I have a book to read anyway.”

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