“Cece!” I shout frantically from my bedroom. “Cece!”
“What?” she asks, appearing suddenly in the doorway.
“Can you help me pack bags for us?” I request as I throw clothes into a suitcase that’s on my bed.
“Why?” she inquires.
“Because,” I return. “I know that Henry needs to hear what I have to say. He needs to hear the truth, and…he needs to meet his son before he makes any decisions.”
“You’re going after him?” she checks excitedly.
I look up and offer a nervous smile. “Yes…should I not? Should I give him some time? I mean….”
“No,” Cece interrupts. “I mean, yes, you should go. No, don’t give him time. He doesn’t know the truth and he needs to hear it.”
I nod and look back down at my suitcase. “I need toiletries…I think.”
“I’ll get him packed,” Cece states, heading out of my room.
“Thanks!” I shout after her.
Ten minutes later, I’m rushing to the front door with my bag in hand. I grab my son’s stroller, knowing that I’ll be able to move more quickly through the airport with him strapped in.
“If you forgot anything, just let me know and I can mail it,” Cece offers.
“Momma never got rid of anything in my room,” I inform. “Plus, if I need anything, I’ll just buy it. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying there. I might just come back if….”
“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Drew asks.
“No,” I reply, getting Henry into his stroller.
He whines a little, preferring to walk instead of being locked down.
“Henry, honey,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “Mama needs you to cooperate.”
“No,” he replies.
“Do you want to see Dada?” I ask, choking on my last word.
Henry’s eyes light up. “Dada? Go see Dada.”
“Yes,” I return. “We’re going to see him. But, we can’t go unless you get in the stroller for Mama.”
“Dada,” Henry cheers, sitting down willingly.
I hook his straps together, securing him in place so he can’t dart off on me.
“Call me the second you land,” Cece instructs.
I smile and nod, knowing she got her new phone yesterday.
“Should one of us stay here just in case he comes back?” Drew searches.
“Knowing Henry, he’s already out of New York,” I share.
“Do you think you might see him at the airport?” Drew asks excitedly.
I giggle. “I doubt it,” I return. “Henry never left Blackburn other than by car and that was only to stay inside Georgia.”
“Well, he showed up here, didn’t he?” Cece reminds.
I pause to think about how Henry came after me. He came—he came for me.
“He might have,” I agree, realizing that Henry has changed more than I could have ever guessed.
“Did you book a ticket yet?” Drew checks.
“Go see Dada,” Henry cheers. His little feet bounce in the air repeatedly.
“No,” I sigh. “I just started packing. I’ll get one while in the cab. That’s what I did when coming back here.”
“Well, get your ass out of here,” Cece commands playfully. “We’ll hold down the fort. You call or text as soon as you know anything, okay…especially once we know you’ve landed in Atlanta.”
“Sure,” I agree. “Thank you both for everything.”
“Hey, we’re your family,” Drew reminds.
“I know,” I say, hugging them.
“Let me know what flight just so I can track ya,” Cece directs.
“Will do,” I confirm.
“Go see Dada,” Henry repeats.
Cece and Drew help me get to the elevator and down to the street to get a cab. Our doorman waves one down while Cece holds a large umbrella over the four of us. Henry keeps chanting Dada which makes my heart start to hope a little more that everything will be alright.
Once in the cab, I give the driver instructions and then search for the next flight to Atlanta. Henry bounces his feet in anticipation as he holds onto his blankie.
“Go see Dada,” Henry states.
“That’s right, honey,” I confirm. My gaze shifts to the driver. “Can you hurry?”
“It’s New York,” he reminds.
“I know,” I huff. “I just really need to get to the airport.”
“Dada,” Henry says.
“I know, baby,” I reply. “We’re going to see Dada.”
“If you hop out here, you could take the subway to the Jamaica Station,” the driver informs. “It’ll be the quickest.”
“I didn’t know the system went that way,” I reply.
“Most from the upper sides don’t know,” he returns with a shrug. “No offense.”
“None taken,” I return.
“The only traffic will be bodies, but at least you’d be moving,” he comments. “Most people give way to a woman with a stroller. If not, just plow through them.”
I nod, getting the courage to face the subway. I used it for years when I was first up here for college but stopped when I was about six months pregnant with Henry. I just didn’t feel safe, unless I was with a friend or two. I felt comfortable walking most streets where I lived and used cabs the rest of the time.
“You got this,” the driver encourages, handing me the last bag from the trunk. “Just follow the instructions,” he says, pointing to the piece of paper he hands me. “You’ll be good and you’ll make it for your flight.”
“Thank you,” I say, handing him the fare.
He smiles and nods, taking it before returning to his vehicle.
“You ready, Henry?” I ask, looking down at him.
He smiles through his tired eyes. It’s coming on nap time. I’m hoping he’ll hold off sleeping until we’re on the plane.
With Henry’s little bag strapped to the back of the stroller and my large duffle bag wrapped over one shoulder, we start down the stairs for the station. A woman with a young boy offers to carry one side of the stroller all the way down to the bottom of the stairs with my me. We exchange smiles as I mouth thank you amongst the noise and bodies around us once we reach the bottom.
As we wait for the train, I stand in front of Henry, facing him in a protective manner. I watch the people around me, studying them and watching how they interact. Once the train arrives, a man gets up and offers me a seat. I thank him and sit, turning the stroller so Henry faces me. With it being a few hours since he’s eaten, I offer Henry a small snack to keep him awake.
People get on and off the train, and there are a few women who strike up a conversation with me about my son. I happily respond, needing the distraction from my growing anxiety.
Once we hit the terminal, I’m able to bypass the TSA checkpoint by paying an eighty-five dollar fee which should give me a little more time to make it to the terminal before they start boarding. When we get to the gate, I check in and am relieved that I hadn’t missed the flight. The stewardess informs me that we’ll be boarding in just fifteen minutes, so I take a seat and relax.
I text Cece that I’m waiting to get on the plane. When I put my phone away, that’s when I notice a smell. I look up and smile. “Well, at least you did that before we got on the plane,” I tell him. “There’s no room to change a diaper on it.”
I fumble with our my stuff all the way to the bathroom. I only have to wait a few minutes for the large stall that has the changing station. He fusses a little but calms down when I hand him my phone. He holds it up, looking at it. With his chubby finger, he points at the picture and identifies each of us. Right as I get him standing to pull up his pants, the phone rings. His arm waves it in the air. Two seconds later, it hits my arm and then suddenly falls. I watch the phone travel in slow motion, noticing that Drew is the person calling, as it bounces on the ledge, against the wall, and into the toilet.
“Fuck!” I exclaim.
“Uck,” he shouts, repeating me.
“Goddamn it!” I curse.
“Dam it,” he repeats.
“Don’t say that,” I instruct. “Mama said a bad word.”
“Dam it,” he says again with a smile.
I let out a sigh and take a moment to collect myself. There’s no need to argue with a two and a half-year-old. Plus, if I ignore him saying it, he’ll stop—I’ve learned that.
Once I get him back in the stroller, I reluctantly reach down into the toilet and retrieve my phone. The screen is dark and it won’t turn back on.
“God dammit,” I seethe.
An announcement that my flight is now boarding is heard over the speakers. I pack my wet phone into an extra ziplock back and put it away since I won’t be able to use it. When I make it over to the gate, the stewardess lets me on first since I have a small child with me. We get seated quickly and wait for the plane to leave.
With a toy in hand, my son busies himself on my lap as I stare aimlessly out the window. I hear the commotion of people getting on the plane, but don’t bother to pull my attention away from my thoughts. How am I going to explain to Henry everything that’s happened? I don’t care if he won’t listen, I’ll make him listen for our son’s sake.
It isn’t until I hear some groaning that I’m pulled back to the present.
“We’ll be waiting for a little while before we can depart folks,” the pilot states. “The rain is slowing things down and we’re the tenth plane waiting to take off. Please hold tight while we work to get us up in the air. Apologies for the delay. We’ll get going as soon as we can. Thank you.”
I curse under my breath, not enjoying that everything seems to be getting worse. It makes me start to wonder, start to doubt if any of this will work out. Could I have made the wrong decision to go after Henry? Are we fated to never be together?