Now boarding first-class passengers,” the Delta gate agent announces.
“That’s us,” I tell CeCe.
It’s like she’s become a different person in the week since I broke the news, and not just because I’m taking her to L.A. I’ve become different with her, too, telling her the things I need her to know, that she’s not alone. That we’ve got each other.
“Are your eyes okay?” I ask as we settle into our seats. I’ve been saving miles for the last ten years, hoping the three of us could take a big European vacation together after CeCe graduated high school. But if this summer taught me one thing, it’s that life is too short to wait for anything. So when I cashed in the miles, I went for it.
“They’re fine,” she says. “A little dry, but I have drops.”
CeCe takes the eye drops from her purse and leans back, squeezing a drop into her left eye and then the right. She blinks and turns to look at me, a smile on her face.
It’s a little unsettling, seeing her with one brown eye and one blue, thanks to the one colored contact. I wasn’t sure at first, but when she said it was in honor of her dad, I couldn’t say no.
“Would you ladies like a drink before takeoff?” the flight attendant asks.
“I’d love a glass of champagne.”
“Make that two,” CeCe says.
The flight attendant looks at me and then back at CeCe. “How about sparkling grape juice?”
“That works, too,” CeCe tells the flight attendant before turning back to me. “I still can’t believe this is really happening. Thank you so much, Mom.”
“You’re so welcome, and you can stop saying thank you now. You’ve said it more than enough.”
“Here you go, ladies.” The flight attendant hands us both our sparkling beverages.
“Smile, Mom.” CeCe puts her phone in selfie mode and snaps a picture of us living the life in first class. Champagne wishes . . .
“Do you have the itinerary Monica sent?” I ask.
After I read Tommy’s letter, I reached out to Brit to get Monica’s email and wrote her a letter, an apology. I don’t think we’ll ever be friends, but like Tommy said, if she can help our daughter, who am I to say no?
CeCe nods and pulls it out of her purse. “I’ve pretty much got it memorized. Lunch at the Ivy, meetings with her agent and a casting director. Walking the real red carpet for a movie premiere!”
“There’s one more thing that isn’t on her agenda.”
“What do you mean?”
“Monica’s not the only one with connections in L.A.”
“Mom? What did you do?”
“I may have made a call to one of the casting companies I’ve done a lot of work with.”
“Am I auditioning for another commercial?”
“Not exactly.”
The captain announces that we’re almost ready for takeoff, so the flight attendant comes back around to collect our glasses.
“If it’s not a commercial, then what is it?”
“One of the casting agents works on another project.”
“Just tell me.” CeCe’s leg is bouncing in anticipation.
“MasterChef Junior.”
“Shut up!” CeCe screams so loud the other passengers turn and stare.
“Shh.” I laugh.
“Are you serious?”
“Couldn’t be more serious. But no guarantees—it’s just an audition.”
“Thank you, Mom.” CeCe leans over the wide armrest and gives me a hug. When she pulls back, I notice her eyes are shining with tears.
“You okay?”
She nods. “I just wish Dad were here.”
“Me, too, baby.”
She leans in for another hug and I kiss the top of her head. I’m so grateful she’s letting me love her. As much as I’m trying to live in the present, I can’t help but think back to the times I was on the outside looking in, the third wheel of our family. Now there’s only two of us.
I turn back and stare out the window as the plane takes off, trying to blink away the tears. They sneak up on me sometimes. One minute I’m fine, and the next, I’m not.
It feels wrong that he’s gone. Like the universe made a mistake and eventually I’ll wake up with Tommy beside me, saying it was all a bad dream. The worst dream.
“I’m going to watch a movie,” CeCe says once we’ve reached the cruising altitude.
I nod and mumble something that I hope sounds like “okay.” I don’t want her to worry about me.
The plane jerks with what I tell myself is just turbulence, but my hand instinctively reaches out for CeCe, as if my arm could protect her. She smiles and shakes her head before turning back to the movie on her laptop. Across the aisle, a woman is rubbing rosary beads.
For the first time in my life, I wish I were religious, that I had something to believe in. That I could feel or know there is a bigger purpose to all of this. That Tommy really is in a better place. I’m not even sure if I believe in heaven—it feels so manufactured, like a story invented to comfort the people left behind.
It would be nice to believe he’s somewhere waiting for me, that we’ll all be together again. But, I don’t know, it’s all too much.
CeCe laughs at something in the movie and I wish I could bottle that sound. There has been enough sadness around us to last a lifetime, and I’m going to try my hardest to give her reasons to smile every day, even if it’s just saying I love her.
I glance back out the window and for a second, I swear I see a red balloon floating by. I blink and it’s gone, if it was ever there.
As much as I know it’s probably impossible because of atmospheric pressure or some other scientific thing, it would be nice to believe it’s a sign. To believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s a spirit or an angel or whatever you want to call him, watching over us with one brown eye and one blue.