The divorce was brutal. He actually had the nerve to tell me it was my fault because I couldn’t give him children. Said that’s why he had to look elsewhere. Like I chose to be infertile. Like I enjoyed the monthly heartbreak and the invasive medical procedures. The lawyers, the paperwork, the division of everything we built together — it nearly broke me.
That’s why when my parents called me a month ago and said they were planning a family trip to Maui, I jumped at the chance.
“You need to come with us, Raylene,” my mom said over the phone. “You need to get away from all this negativity and heal. It’ll be good for you to spend time with family.”
She was right. I needed something to look forward to. Something to pull me out of the depression I’d been drowning in since the divorce was finalized. The idea of warm beaches, tropical drinks, and quality time with people who actually loved me sounded like exactly what I needed. For the first time in months, I felt a spark of excitement. I went shopping for vacation clothes, bought new swimsuits, and even treated myself to a pedicure.
Maribel was excited, too, when I talked to her. She said her daughter was thrilled about going on her first airplane ride and seeing the ocean.
The morning of our flight, I took an Uber to the airport, dragging my bright pink suitcase behind me as I walked through the automatic doors. The place was buzzing with travelers, announcements echoing overhead about departing flights. I scanned the crowd looking for my family and spotted them near our gate. My parents were sitting on those uncomfortable airport chairs, and Maribel was standing nearby with my niece.
“Aunt Raylene!” my niece called out when she saw me, running over with her arms outstretched. She wore a little flower dress and had her hair in pigtails.
“Hey there, sweetheart.” I hugged her tight. “Are you excited about Maui?”
“Yes! Mommy says there are big turtles in the water.”
Maribel walked over and gave me a quick hug. “Perfect timing,” she said. “Oh, actually, could you do me a huge favor? She’s been asking for water for 10 minutes, and the line at that food court looks shorter than the one by the gate. Could you grab her a bottle?”
I looked where she pointed. There was indeed a small food court area with what looked like a manageable line. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I headed toward the food court, checking my phone for our boarding time. We still had about 45 minutes, so plenty of time.
The line turned out to be longer than it looked. Airport food is always slow, and today was no exception. I waited and waited, checking my phone periodically. Then, just as I finally got close to the front, I heard someone call my name.
“Raylene! Oh my god, is that really you?”
