Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 5

Packing for the trip goes relatively easily, save for the three different trips I have to make to three different stores to find Millie a properly fitting snow suit. “And boots,” Tucker had told me. “She needs snow boots.” Ignoring the fact that she is not even close to walking yet, a separate issue that I am already worried enough about, do you know that no one stocks snow boots for a nine-month-old? I was able to find some on Amazon, but they wouldn’t ship in time. I get a couple pairs of really thick socks and some too large rain boots. That should be good enough.

I did however, manage to buy myself something new. It’s been ages since I bought anything for myself that wasn’t baby related, but when I pulled my ski clothes out of the storage box in the garage, I realized that my old ski pants didn’t quite fit as well as they used to. I haven’t really gained any weight. In fact, I’m in better shape now than I was before getting pregnant. But pregnancy and giving birth and the daily grind of motherhood changes your body. My hips just aren’t what or where they used to be. Luckily, REI was having a good sale and I was able to get a new pair. Neon orange with a blue stripe down the side of each leg. They look fantastic.

“Orange? Really?” Tucker had said when I got them home.

“What? I think they’re great,” I said, lunging a few times to show off the stripes.

“Definitely won’t be able to miss you on the mountain.”

He, on the other hand, pulled out the same pants and jacket he’s had since we first started dating and put them in the suitcase without even trying them on. It must be nice to be so secure in the permanence of your body shape.

We somehow manage to get everything packed in two suitcases, both just ounces under the weight limit, and are ready to leave for the airport with hours to spare.

“It’s always better to have too much time than too little,” Tucker had said this morning for the third time, before asking me for the fourth time if I had my passport. And Millie’s passport? Did I still have Millie’s passport?

“No, I think she sold it off for milk rations.” He didn’t appreciate my joke. And no, I hadn’t checked. I knew exactly where it was. But when I go into our room just before we are about to leave, Millie’s passport is not on the dresser with mine.

“You got it?” Tucker shouts from the next room.

“Just checking now,” I say back. Where could it be? I know I put it right here. I stacked it right on top of my passport with all our flight paperwork underneath. Everything else is still here. I’m certain I put it there too. Didn’t I?

“Find it?” Tucker’s voice in the doorway of our bedroom startles me. I was hoping I would have it before he found out it was missing. Damn it.

“I mean, I did. I swear it was right here. I’m sure I put it here with ours.” He sighs, as if this is what he has expected all along, and begins to look around.

He knows you’re not a good mother.

Always such a disappointment.

“Well, where did you have it before you thought you stacked it here?” Tucker asks.

“It came in the mail two weeks ago,” I say. “It was in a large manila envelope on the desk in the study. Yesterday, I got our passports out of the filing cabinet and took hers out of the envelope and put them all right here.” I touch the stack on the dresser. “You have yours?”

“Yes,” he says, patting his jacket pocket.

“Then where is Millie’s?”

Tucker turns and walks out of the room and down the hallway. I hear Millie playing in her room and I go in to check on her. Moments later, Tucker comes in, Millie’s passport in hand.

“Found it,” he says, waving it in the air.

“Where?” I ask.

“In the envelope on the desk.”

“See, I knew it was there!” I try and play off my forgetfulness.

“And what, just thought you put it where it was supposed to be?” He chuckles and says, “You definitely have a way of imagining things.”

There is traffic all the way to the airport. Of course, there is always traffic on the way to everywhere here. Just another strike against this place on my list of reasons not to live here. And when we finally arrive we find what appears to be the only remaining vacant spot in the whole long-term parking structure. Level 5B. I note it down in my phone.

“I can remember that,” Tucker says as we’re getting all of our things out of the car.

“I know,” I say, quickly typing the note. “But just in case.”

“In case of what? You going to leave me in Canada?”

“Oh man, you figured out my plan,” I say. He laughs.

A quick shuttle ride to the terminal and we arrive at the check-in line with the masses. I see Tucker glance at his watch.

“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to appear calmer than I feel. “We have plenty of time.”

“We should have left earlier.”

“It’s fine. We’ll make it.”

“Destination?” the female attendant asks when we finally get to the front of the line.

“Calgary,” I say. “We’re going to Canada.” She looks up at me and then over my shoulder, apparently looking for something that she can’t find. I slide my passport across the counter and she takes it, matching my name to the list on her screen.

“How many bags are you checking?”

“Just these,” I say, lifting my bag onto the scale next to the counter. After she tags my bag and moves it back to the conveyor belt behind her, Tucker lifts his bag onto the scale.

“Thank you, Ms. Logan. Here is your boarding pass. You’ll go through security just down to the right.” I take my things and start to walk away before I turn back.

“What’s wrong?” Tucker asks.

“Did she get a tag on your bag?”

“Yes,” he says, nudging me along with his hand on my back.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see her do it?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t be so anxious. We’re on vacation. Just try to relax a bit.”

It’s another twenty minutes before we make it to the front of the security line and even then, we’re not quite out of the chaos.

“Excuse me, Miss?” a TSA officer says, his hands on my bag that has just passed through the screening. “Is this yours?” I nod. “Please step this way.”

He takes my bag and I follow him to a small computer dock. He opens my bag and pulls out a few things. A jacket, my tablet, and my bag of cosmetics, which he briefly rifles through. He then takes a wand and swipes the inside and outside of my bag. Once he’s done, he runs the wipe that was on the end of the wand through the computer. I have no reason to be nervous, but I am. What is he looking for? And what if he finds it? I look over my shoulder, and I can’t see Tucker and Millie anywhere. Where have they gone? Before my head can dive any further into a spin, the computer beeps.

“Thank you, Miss,” the officer says, putting my things back in the bag and zipping it shut. “You’re free to go.” I smile, take my bag off the counter, and step back into the crowd. All around me, people are in different states of disarray, trying to pull themselves back together. Some with their belt half on, others with one shoe off, and a few trying to fit laptops back into bags while returning hats to their heads or watches to their wrists. Amongst it all, I still don’t see Tucker.

I find a spot on a bench and manage to get my shoes back on. When I stand back up, Tucker reappears.

“Where did you go?” I say with a little more desperation in my voice than is probably called for.

“Sorry, diaper emergency,” he says nodding down at Millie in the carrier. “I thought you saw me go off to the bathroom.”

“No, and I was worried,” I say.

You call yourself a mother?

You weren’t paying attention to your own child.

He clearly cares about her more than you do.

“It’s okay. Did you really think I would leave you here at the airport?” Tucker nudges me with his shoulder and laughs.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Sorry.” The woman sitting on the bench next to me gives me a strange look as I turn and collect my things. I shrug, trying to convey a womanly inside joke about silly husbands, but her face twists even more and she hurries to leave.

“Everything alright with your bag?” Tucker says, looking over at the security guard, who is now going through another traveler’s things.

“Yep. Probably just one of those random checks.”

“Alright,” he says with a smile. “We ready?” I slip my bag over my shoulder and nod.

Tucker walks in front of me, with Millie strapped to his chest in the carrier and his satchel thrown over his shoulder. I trail behind carrying my bag, the diaper bag, and Millie’s car seat to be checked at the gate. We make it to the gate as our group is being called for boarding and find our way to our seats. It’s a relatively empty flight and people are able to spread out a bit, leaving us with a whole row to ourselves. And somehow, with the biggest stroke of luck, after just a quick bottle feed on takeoff, Millie falls asleep.

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