“Nothing, sweetheart.”
He frowned. “Well, we’re going to the lounge until we board. Mom needs to rest. We’ll see you there.”
“Way better.”
I smiled at him.
It must have been the wrong kind of smile, because his forehead creased.
“What’s that look for?”
“Nothing, Roger. Enjoy your flight.”
Helen made a small, impatient sound.
“Come on, darling. I’m looking forward to a proper cappuccino before the flight,”
Roger hesitated one more second, studying my face.
“Enjoy your flight.”
Then he turned and followed his mother toward the lounge.
I watched them walk away, my three children clustered around my legs.
Our economy tickets still in my hand.
Roger and Helen could celebrate our anniversary together.
Then I knelt down to eye level with my kids.
“Guys, how would you feel about a giant hotel pool with unlimited ice cream, and no airplane?”
Roger and Helen could celebrate our anniversary together.
Three faces lit up at once.
“Come on, sweethearts. Mommy’s taking us somewhere fun.”
I walked out of that terminal with my three kids and every ounce of dignity I had left.
The kids cheered as we headed toward the parking garage.
They were already arguing over who would be first in the pool.
I smiled for what felt like the first time that morning.
Roger and Helen were in for a huge surprise when they landed.
“Mommy’s taking us somewhere fun.”
Forty-five minutes later, we were checking into a beautiful lakeside resort.
It wasn’t as extravagant as the beach vacation I’d planned, but it had spacious rooms, an indoor water park, a kids’ club, and unlimited ice cream from the café overlooking the lake.
By dinner, the boys were racing each other down the water slides while Lily happily devoured a towering sundae.
My phone stayed silent all afternoon.
My phone stayed silent all afternoon.
Roger was probably sipping champagne in first class.
He was completely convinced I’d fallen in line like always.
That changed just after eight that evening.
His name flashed across my screen.
The second I answered, he exploded.
“What the hell did you do?”
That changed just after eight that evening.
I calmly stepped onto the balcony overlooking the lake.
“What are you talking about?”
“The hotel canceled our reservation! The rental car is gone! The dinner cruise, the spa package — everything! We’re standing in the lobby with nowhere to stay!”
“I know.”
“You knew?” he shouted. “Where are you? And where are the kids?”
“We’re standing in the lobby with nowhere to stay!”
“We’re on vacation.”
“Don’t play games with me! Where are we supposed to sleep tonight?”
I looked through the window at my children.
They were laughing together over a board game the resort had left in the room.
“I guess you’ll have to figure it out,” I said quietly. “After all, you’re the one who wanted a vacation without us.”
“We’re on vacation.”
Watching them laugh, I realized something that had been missing for years.
I wasn’t taking care of everyone else.
I was finally taking care of us.
Then I wished him a pleasant evening.
I ended the call, and switched my phone to silent.
For the first time in twelve years, his problems weren’t mine to solve.
I was finally taking care of us.
As I slipped inside to join my kids, I realized something.
Roger had been right about one thing.
I’d be just fine.
