Tanya Guerrero - All You Knead Is Love

I wore my last remaining girlie shirt to the airport. It was pastel purple with a tiny frill at the sleeve and collar, and two heart-shaped silver buttons. It was exactly the kind of shirt Mom used to buy me. And the kind of shirt I swore I would never wear. Not anymore. Especially since it was already two sizes too small, but it didnt matter. I stood as straight as I could, angling my shoulders and neck the same way a ballet dancer would. I knew how because my parents had season tickets to the New York City Ballet at Lincoln Center.

The shirt. The stance. The touch of Vaseline Id dabbed on my lips. It was my last-ditch effort to stay in New York City, where I belonged. Maybe Mom would take one look at me and change her mind.

Qatar Airways flight 5179 to Barcelona will begin boarding first class, business class, and families with young children at gate C7 in ten minutes, a womans voice announced.

Okay. This is it.

I fluttered my eyelashes.

Mom smoothed her silk Herms scarf with her delicate fingers. She glanced at me. But it was like she wasnt really seeing me. Like she was skimming the newspaper with her tortoiseshell eyes.

Well Mom stepped closer, into the light. Her skin was flawless, her lips a matte burgundy, her eyebrows perfectly arched. I hope you take this time to reflect, Alba. To make some changes I think Spain will be good for you.

I exhaled. My ballet posture deflated. Okay, I mumbled.

Suddenly there was a mass of people crowding around us, bumping me with their carry-on bags as they lined up. A lady in a uniform the same shade as Moms lipstick approached us. She had this ridiculous hat tilted on her head with a small gold pin of a deer or impala or whatever.

Hello, Mrs. Green. Im Sofia, and Ill be taking care of Alba on the flight. The lady smiled and bowed her head, and then she placed one of those sticky-label thingies on the side of my chest. I glanced at it and read it from upside down.

Alba Green

QR 5179

Unaccompanied Minor

The label made me feel like a dumb kid.

Thank you, Sofia. May I have a moment with my daughter? said Mom.

Of course. The flight attendant stayed put. She half turned, focusing her gaze on the glass window with the big white airplane on the other side.

I stared at my black Converse and wondered what would happen if I dropped my backpack and ran. How far would I get before someone caught me?

Alba.

I looked up.

Please. Try not to hate me. This will be good for you. Youll see, said Mom, placing her hand on my cheek.

I stood there, speechless. No matter how Mom framed it, the bottom line was, I was being cast out. Banished. Mom had finally made good on her threats.

We should go, said the flight attendant over her shoulder.

I stepped away, but Mom pulled me back. Wait. She had tears in her eyes. Tears that dribbled down her cheeks, leaving grayish mascara tracks on her pale skin.

I was shocked.

I had never seen her cry.

Crying is undignified. Those were her words. Not mine.

Mahal kita, she said, so softly I could barely hear her. I love you, in Tagalog. She only ever spoke it when Dad was around.

Out of habit, I scanned the terminal. But he was nowhere in sight.

Maybe she was just being sentimental.

Whatever.

I moved backward, slowly. I watched her wipe her face with the tips of her fingers. The tears were gone and so was her makeup. Under her right eye, the skin was a yellowish greenthe color of a nearly faded bruise.

Bye, Mom.

I turned my back on her, like shed turned her back on me.

I walked off and followed the clicking of the flight attendants high heels.

Click-clack. Click-clack.

She gave my ticket and passport to another lady with the same uniform on. And then we turned into a corridor. The flight attendant started talking. Blah. Blah. Blah. I like your short hair. Its so cute. Perfect for summer in Spain.

I nodded and kept on walking with heavy feet.

For once, I just wanted to stay home with Mom. Even if it meant being around Dad. Not that Dad was around much. When he was, it seemed like he could barely stand being in the same room as me.

He didnt want me.

And of course Mom did whatever he wanted.

So I guess she didnt want me, either.

I paused at the crack between the walkway and the entrance to the plane. My breath halted for a second and then heaved, as if there was only a bit of oxygen left on earth.

Alba? The flight attendant touched my arm.

I flinched.

This was it. My last chance to run.

My heart pounded against my chest, creeping up my throat until it felt like I was choking. I coughed, then swallowed. But the lump of fear, of anger, of sadness, of regret, stayed put.

They really didnt want me.

I was alone.

I stepped over the threshold.

Because what did I have left to lose?

Nothing.