There’s a pregnant pause.
I was expecting a bunch of questions, forcing me to give more of an explanation. I expected shock, indignation on my behalf, threats of bodily harm, knowing my sister. But all there is between us on the line is silence.
And then…
“Just breathe and I’ll be right there. I love you.” And the line goes dead.
My sister wasted no time. Within the hour, she texted me her flight itinerary and had given notice at work that she needed a leave of absence for a family emergency for a few weeks. By 7:00 p.m., I was in the cell phone lot at the airport, waiting for her to arrive.
Mia: Just got to baggage claim.
Me: Meet you just outside the doors.
A zip of excitement shoots through my system. I haven’t seen my sister in what feels like forever but has only been a few months, when we went to visit everyone in Montana for Thanksgiving.
I pull out of my parking space and slowly drive around the airport, using the lane reserved for arrival pickup. When I reach the doors outside baggage claim, I spot her. She’s got one of those rolling carts piled high with several suitcases, and it brings much-needed relief. Mia isn’t the type of girl to pack a bunch of unnecessary things for a trip. She’s normally a one carry-on kind of person. So to see she’s brought what looks to be the entirety of her apartment with her, means she’s prepared to stay for as long as I need her.
I put my SUV in park and hop out, running around to the back. About that time, Mia comes around the side with her cart and throws her arms around me. I sink into her embrace, allowing the comfort of my person in life to fill me with relief. Suddenly, it’s like half the weight of the world is lifted off my shoulders just knowing I’m not alone and have my sister to help me through the worst moment of my life.
“Sis, as much as I love this hug, the traffic attendant is giving us major stink-eye,” she tells me, her voice strained as if I’m squeezing the bejeezus out of her, which I realize I am and quickly let her go, taking a step back.
“Sorry. Let’s get you loaded up,” I reply, and I open the trunk. As soon as the back is all the way up, my girls squeal from the back seat.
“Mimiiii!” Until that moment, they’d been occupied watching a movie on the pull-down screen built into the roof of the Tahoe and had no idea their aunt was coming. I thought I’d give them a happy surprise before I drop a bomb on them.
“Hi, my favorite munchkins!” Mia calls with a huge smile, and we make quick work of stacking all her suitcases into the back. She returns the cart then hops in the passenger side, and I pull out into traffic while my girls rapid-fire a million questions at their aunt.
“We didn’t know you were coming!”
“What are you doing here?”
“How long are you staying?”
“Will you sleep in my room?”
“That’s not fair. She should sleep in mine!”
“No, mine!”
Mia doesn’t even bother answering any of the questions, since the girls end up in an argument and aren’t paying any attention to her anyway. We’ll be having a long talk as soon as we get home, and we’ll answer everything they ask then. Instead, Mia just reaches over and grips my hand that rests on the center console, and once again, I allow her warmth to seep into me and soothe my broken heart.
An hour later, once we’ve gotten all of Mia’s suitcases stacked in the hallway, up against the wall between Lola and Kate’s rooms, which are across from Ruby’s, we head downstairs and sit on the stools around the island in the kitchen. I take a deep breath to prepare, telling myself to stay calm and collected when I tell them what’s going on. If I can keep the tears at bay and not show how devastated I am, then maybe they won’t be as upset.
“So, girls. There’s a reason Mia is here, and I want all of you to know that no matter what, I love you and we’re here for you. You can ask as many questions as you want, and you can feel however you want about the situation, okay?” I tell them, my hands clutching together in my lap as I see their little faces try to work out what I could be talking about.
“What is it, Mommy?” Lola asks, fidgeting on her stool.
“Well—” I look over at Mia, and she gives me an encouraging nod. “—your dad has moved out for the time being. He, um…” What do I say to my kids? They’re only nine and six. I can’t bring up his infidelity without bringing on a tsunami of questions about what sex even is, since we haven’t quite dealt with that yet.