Page 101 of Fight Or Flight

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The rideto the airport mimicked a funeral precession. Sure, there were no outrageous floral displays and of course, there was no coffin. There was mom’s Range Rover and a fleet of motorcycles leading the way to Newark, and inside the Range, the immediate family fought back tears.

The final straw was hearing my dad sniffle. I knew I had to do something before everyone—myself included—started crying like a bunch of saps.

I grabbed my phone, hooked it up to the sound system, and reached into the front seat to turn up the volume. Flo Rida’s “My House” poured from the speakers and soon my dad was driving with one hand, fist-pumping with the other. Mom even got into it and swayed to the beat in the passenger seat. Robert and Anthony hit the notes and Bella started squawking like our bird—not really sure why, but I loved it. I loved every fucking second and as I draped my arm around Brooklyn’s shoulders, I started singing too.

By the time the song ended, we were at the terminal and I played it again as my dad searched for a spot. Once he put the Range in park, everyone filed out of the truck and me and dad made our way to the back to grab my bags. I hitched one over my shoulder and dad took the other.

As we made our way to the airport, I tightened my hold on Brooklyn’s hand. My mom rattled off a list of things, making sure I didn’t forget any of the documents I needed.

Birth Certificate, check!

Social Security Card, check!

Debit Card, check!

Driver’s License, check!

Plane ticket—shit!

Nothing like a little Montgomery chaos to make time fly past. By the time I realized I could pull up my ticket on the app and the crisis was averted, it was time for me to check-in. I checked one bag and hiked the other one over my shoulder as I printed my boarding pass.

Look at your boy, Eric, doing adultish shit.

Pretty fucking cool, huh?

It was until it was time to say goodbye.

Bella was first, and I lifted her up in my arms, spinning her around until she threatened to hurl all over my head. Next was Anthony, who I hugged tight and slipped a crisp hundred-dollar bill into his pocket. His rate had gone up.

“Keep an eye out on my girl, yeah?”

“You got it, bro. Stay safe.”

It was his first time telling me to stay safe—I guess it finally hit him. After I ruffled his hair some, I turned to Robert. I braved a smile and took him into my arms. I tried to crack a joke, but I didn’t have it in me.

“I love you,” I rasped.

“I love you too,” he choked. “Remember, you’re already someone’s hero.”

Fucking kid—always trying to make me look like a pussy. It’s alright—real men aren’t afraid to show their emotions. Real men wear their hearts on their sleeves.

Once I pulled away from Rob, my mom rushed for me and threw her arms around my middle.

“Please be careful,” she cried. Worried she might actually suffocate me, I pried her arms from my waist and bent my knees to bring us to eye level. I pulled her glasses from her pretty face, stared into her blue eyes, and gave her my word. Then I thanked her for loving me and vowed to make her proud.

The line in front of me was thinning and there were only two people left for me to say goodbye to. The first was the man who taught me everything I know, and the second was the love of my life.

I looked at my dad, saw the emotion reflected in his eyes, and instead of giving him my words, I brought him into my arms, and gave him my strength. It was only fair considering he’s been lifting me up for the last eighteen years.

“Eye of the Tiger, son,” he rasped.

“Always.”

Then it was time for the hardest goodbye of all. It was time to walk away from my pretty little hurricane. Fourteen weeks would be hell without her, but we’d make it. This thing we built was unbreakable.

I removed my bag from my back and opened it up, taking the teddy bear out. As soon as I handed it to her, she started to cry. I didn’t want my last memory of her to be a sad one, but I also knew there wasn’t much I could do to stop her from crying.

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