Page 12 of Sombra
“It’s so good that we have the money saved for your grad school. We can use it on your wedding.”
Scrambling up, I lean over between the front seats and lookright at her. “Wait. What? I still want to go to grad school.”
“Oh, honey. You’ll have your degree. You don’t really require further diplomas—”
A vein bulges on my neck. “I very muchdoneed it. I stay home and go to state school, and then I can go to grad school somewhere else. That was the deal—”
“Relax, Kim. It was just an idea. We don’t have to use it. We’ll talk aboutit when you get back.”
My blood pressure does not go down. “You really think I don’t want to go to grad school?”
“I’m not really sure you need it. I mean, so many people have MBA’s, who don’t use them.”
I never said I wanted to get an MBA.
There’s no way I’m winning this argument, and I don’t want the last memory of my parents before I get on the first plane of my lifebeing a fight. I sit back in the seat and try to control my breathing.
A few minutes later, my dad breaks through the quiet, keeping his eyes on the road. “Kim?”
“Yeah?” I say through gritted teeth. Guess I haven’t calmed down yet.
“Your mom and I are sure proud that you ended up with a guy like Shane. Ever since you were kids, he’s been here.”
“I know.” I hug my armsaround myself, needing to hold on to someone and having no one. “He’s great.”
We’re almost to Departures. It can’t come soon enough. I love Mom and Dad, but I need to just go. My dad asks, “You have your passport?”
“Yep.” I have my finger on the door handle.
What’s it like to be on a plane?
“Credit cards?”
“Yep.”
Will my ears pop?
We pull up tothe international terminal, and I push the car door open as fast as I can. But I pause before getting out.
What if I get sick? What if I get claustrophobia? What if they lose my luggage? What if the plane crashes?
I’m thinking it’s safer in the car, but I take a deep breath and tell my panicked thoughts to take a hike.
My dad puts the car in park, gets out, and opens his arms.“A hug for your mom and dad?”
Even though Mom and Dad annoy me, they’re still my parents. I get out of the car and wrap my arms around him. “Aww. Yep.”
As he snuggles me, he says, “Then you’re ready to go to Spain.”
Hours later,I shove my mystery paperbackin my backpack and step off the Iberia Airlines plane into a different world. One of whirling color and vibrant people.
Tummy? Excited and gurgling. Neck? Sore from sitting up for hours. Feet? Itching to get moving.
Just by stepping on a plane, I’ve finally been somewhere and done something. My passport has its very first stamp! When the customs official placed a stamp on it witha design of an airplane landing and “Entrada Madrid-Barajas,” I almost took a selfie with him.
I pick up my bags and exit to the waiting area.
The email had told me, “One of the de la Guerra family’s children will meet you at Madrid-Barajas. She’ll have a sign with your name on it and will drive you to their family home in Andalucía.”
