Page 5 of Holiday Unscripted
She smiles at me, and it’s a smile I sometimes give to patients when I want to tell them they shouldn’t listen to Google when it comes to treating their ailments.
She types away at her computer. “Your flight is taking off from gate sixty.” She types more. “The lounge is available, but I’m not sure how much time you are going to have.”
“That’s okay,” I say nervously, looking around now and seeing the line to security getting longer and longer.
“You are all set.” She finally hands me my paper boarding pass, even though I have it on my phone. “Your luggage tag is on the back.” I nod at her. “Have a great travel day and happy holidays.”
“Thank you. Happy holidays,” I mumble to her as I grab my carry-on bag and hike it over my shoulder and walk toward the gate. I take a picture of the chaos that is the airport and send it to my mother.
Me: The eagle is in the airport.
I send it and she immediately sends me a picture of her with a smile.
Mom: My daughter is coming home. I’m going to have all my kids together for Christmas. My heart is full.
Me: Knock it off.
Mom: Okay, fine, but I make no promises there won’t be tears.
Me: Don’t make me accidentally miss my connecting flight and stay in LA with Ariella.
Mom: Joke’s on you, she’s going to be here for the wedding.
I put my phone away and head toward security, which takes me over an hour, and I have to run to catch my plane. I’m one of the very last people to get on the plane and the girl who was at the counter when I was checking in is somehow now here to basically gloat at me. “This is why we ask that you get here three hours before the flight.” She holds out her hand for the boarding pass and then turns it upside down as it pings to let me walk on to the plane. “Have a safe flight.”
“Thanks.” I grab the paper and head down the ramp toward the plane, thankful my mother booked me a pod instead of teaching me a lesson and having me sit in the back of the plane. I store my bag by my seat as I get settled in. By the time I’m taking off, I’m ready to relax. The thirteen-hour flight flies by since I sleep the majority of the time, only waking to eat. When we land in LA, there is no gate agent waiting for us. We arrived at 6:00 a.m., and by the time they get someone there, we are waiting for over forty-five minutes. Something about the latch or whatever. I have to run again to catch the connecting flight. Customs, luckily for me since I have global entry, is a breeze, but I don’t even have a chance to text my mother when I finally sit down, again one of the last people on the plane.
After traveling for the past fifteen hours, I’m starting to feel gross. The airplane air getting to me. The last six-hour flight is the longest part of it all. I keep looking at the plane on the screen and each time it feels like we’re stuck there. Every minute feels like an hour, and I’m anxious to finally get home and recover from the travel. We touch down in New York and when I look out I see the snow and close my eyes. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing, hoping my mother has brought a jacket for me.
I’m one of the first people off the plane, and I smile when I walk toward the exit and baggage claim. Stepping onto the escalator that takes me down, I am bouncing on my feet, suddenly excited to finally see my mother. Waiting for the escalator to descend feels like eighty-four years passing, and finally, I can see people waiting for their family members. I look left and right, searching for her.
I finally step off the escalator and walk over to the baggage carousel, waiting for my bags. I look around as my phone switches from airplane mode to get service. I wait until I see a couple of bars for signal before dialing my mother and putting the phone to my ear. I look around for her to see if maybe I can spot her in the crowd when she answers after two rings. “Seriously,” I goad when I hear she’s not in the car, nor the same noise I’m hearing around the airport, “you can book my ticket, but then you forget to come and pick me up?”
“Oh my goodness, have you landed already?” I hear her rushing on her end and then I hear voices over an intercom.
“Yes, I’m here and you’re not. Tell me I’m the middle child without telling me I’m the middle child.”
“One, you aren’t the middle child.”
“I’ve been awake for eighty-four years, Mom. I’m delirious. This feels like a middle child thing.” I correct myself, “It’s actually even worse, I’m the baby of the family and you forgot me.”
She cries out, “There was a pipe that busted at the hotel, and your brother slipped. They think his foot might be broken.” Her voice goes higher and higher.
“Oh damn, that’s going to suck in pictures if he’s going to have to get a boot,” I mention as a buzzer rings and the belt starts to move. “I guess I’ll get a cab there,” I tell her. “Don’t come down for me. I’ll be fine.”
“Of course you will,” my mother confirms. “I never have to worry about you.”
“You literally tell me the opposite every single chance you get.” I shake my head. “I’m waiting for my luggage. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay,” she replies, disconnecting her phone, and I look down to see a picture of the five of us taken two years ago on my screen saver.
“I guess it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas.” I chuckle and shake my head.
CHAPTER 3
Elizabeth
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
