I still have both cars, but I try to walk and use public transportation as often as possible. It’s safer for the drivers around me and, well, me. Heath insists I’m a shitty driver because I don’t practice.
He doesn’t understand why I can face everything with courage except for one thing. Driving and going to the airport. It brings terrible memories. I recall the last moment when Mom screamed, and the other car was coming at ours from the opposite direction.
Dad said we’d be fine, but we weren’t. We were on our way to France to celebrate Mom’s birthday. That was the last time I saw my parents. I still can hear the panic in their voices. The sound of the emergency vehicles and my sister crying.
I rub my leg as the pain begins to cripple along with the anxiety.
“Count with me, love. One, two… I can’t hear you.”
“One,” I murmur.
“Deep breaths, everything is okay. Let’s count: one, two, three.”
I join him, counting until my breathing normalizes.
“This is why I wanted Owen to pick them up,” he says. “You’re already dealing with a lot.”
I lean my head against the seat and close my eyes. “Will it ever get better?”
“Are you still in therapy?”
I almost growl because it’s been a hot minute since I last saw a therapist.
“You need professional help,” he points out.
“Don’t use logic on me, Spearman.”
“This is just a suggestion, but you do you.” There’s some humor in his voice.
I blow some air out. “Fine, I’ll search for someone new.”
“When did you stop going?”
“If I say I don’t remember?”
He laughs. “That long, huh?”
“The last one wanted me to stop working so much and find a real hobby.”
Heath gasps. “The horror.”
“Listen, kettle. You’re always at the hospital.”
“Not true. I’m either there or with you. Mostly with you.”
“Hmm,” I say, almost lost in thought. I had never thought about his whereabouts. Is that true?
“And here we are,” he says as he enters the parking garage. “Ready for them?”
“No. We’re going to fail.”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he slides into a spot. “It’s you and me, baby. Everything is going to be all right.”
Picking anyone up from the airport—any airport—is a nightmare. When it’s two elderly people who like to stop at every shop, it somehow takes even longer.
We do eventually find my abuelitos. Abuela’s bright red hair is a beacon even in the huge crowds.
“There they are.” I point toward the bookstore, where they’re probably buying gum or water.
“I don’t remember her being a redhead,” Heath studies them from where we stand.
“That’s been her new look for the past couple of years. I’m sure I showed you the pictures of our last vacation.”
“She was wearing a big straw hat,” he reminds me.
“Right. She only took it off when we were eating at restaurants… and I hope inside of her room too.”
Once Abuelito is done paying, and they turn around, I wave wildly. It feels like I haven’t seen them in years. “Tita, Abuelito!” I run to them and hug them both at the same time.
“My chiquita, que gusto verte.” She takes my chin in her hand and looks me over.
“It’s good seeing you too.” I can’t help but smile back goofily. The pool of dread that had been in my stomach all month dissipates now that she’s actually here.
“Tita, Abuelito, let me introduce you to Heath,” I say when she finally lets me go.
Heath extends his hand, but my grandmother wastes no time pulling him into a hug as well, even though he’s well over a foot taller than her. He leans down to accommodate her, then exchanges handshakes and nods with my abuelo.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Heath. Welcome to the family,” Abuelita says with so much enthusiasm my heart shrinks.
I hope she doesn’t get too attached because this will be over in less than a week.
Heath smiles at her. “It’s nice meeting you too, Mrs. Rivera.”
“Abuela or Tita,” she corrects him. “We’re family.”
“They’re not married yet, Adelaida,” Abuelito protests, glaring at Heath.
“We’ll discuss my intentions with your granddaughter later, Mr. Rivera.”
Grandpa nods. If Heath’s stressed about meeting my grandparents, it doesn’t show on his face. He’s doing great at playing the part of the fiancé meeting the grandparents for the first time.
I dry my hands with my shirt. I’m probably the nervous one. My eyes darting from my abuelita to Heath and back again as I try to take in her every reaction to him. Luckily, she seems to immediately fall in love—like most women when they meet Heath.
“Why don’t we head home so you can rest? You must be exhausted.”
“Poquito.” Grandma shows him a pinch with her thumb and index finger. “We spent last week in New York visiting bridal boutiques.”
“Why don’t we go?” I insist instead of staring at her.
Did she dare go to bridal shops without me? Not that I care. I’m not getting married. I am not.
Picking up the luggage takes longer than expected. I’m scared when I see they have five bags with them. Five.
Heath and I drag them all the way to the parking lot. I’m grateful he brought the Range Rover to pick them up or the bags wouldn’t have fit.
We finally corral both my abuelos into the car, with Abuela taking the front seat and me moving to the back with Abuelo. He grins at me as I duck into the back after closing her door for her. “How are you doing?”
“I’m well, Abuelito. Happy to see you.”
He tilts his head. “We’ve been wanting to visit, but it’s been hard between my business and the family. It’s been hard. Your great-grandmother is getting old and sicker.”
Grandpa owns a big construction company in Mexico. They work primarily with commercial buildings, but as an architect, he’s designed several houses, including the one where Mom grew up.
I reach over to squeeze his hand. “Sorry about Nani, but I’m glad you could visit.”
This time is his turn to pat my hand. “You look so much like Lydia.”
It’s weird to hear that coming from him. Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I wonder why I have so much of my father and so little of my mother. I miss both, but these days, I wish I had her with me, giving me advice and telling me things will be okay.
Heath pulls smoothly into traffic, completely unruffled, when someone blares their horn behind us. I gasp and cover my head.
“It’s okay, love,” Heath says from the front seat. “I got it. Just breathe, okay?”
Abuelo draws circles on my back, as I try to fight the panic attack.
“Nothing is going to happen, chiquita,” Abuelita mumbles, her hand reaching out to me. “I thought you were okay with cars.”
“It’s just the drive to and from the airport,” Heath clarifies. “She’s usually okay.”