Chapter 4 - Flight to Athens
Forty-eight hours later, Daniel and I were sitting in the Delta Sky Club at JFK, sipping mimosas while the morning sun gleamed off the silver wings of the Airbus A330 parked outside our window.
My phone was turned completely off, nestled safely at the bottom of my carry-on bag.
Daniel, however, was monitoring his phone with a faint, amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He had kept his notifications active solely to track the digital fallout.
“You want the play-by-play?” he asked, tapping the screen.
“Only if it doesn't ruin the taste of this champagne,” I replied, reclining into the plush leather chair.
“Well,” Daniel said, leaning across the table, “it seems Khloe, Tyler, and your mother arrived at Terminal 4 at approximately 6:00 AM for their supposed flight to Greece.”
I chuckled softly, picturing the scene. “Did they honestly think the tickets would magically work?”
“Apparently, yes,” Daniel said. “Tyler made an angry Facebook check-in from the gate area twenty minutes ago. It is... poetry.”
He turned the screen toward me.
Tyler had posted a blurry photo of the Delta service counter with the caption: *Unbelievable how some people in this family can sleep at night. Stranding a pregnant woman at the airport because of personal pettiness. Karma is coming for you both.*
Below it, the comments were already ablaze.
My aunt Susan—Dad’s older sister, who had attended the wedding and witnessed the pink smoke debacle firsthand—had left the top comment:
*Tyler, you didn’t get stranded. You tried to board an international flight bought on stolen credit with money that didn’t belong to you. Go home, get a job, and buy your own diapers.*
Daniel chuckled. “Aunt Susan is savage.”
“Aunt Susan has hated my mother since 1998,” I said, smiling. “She’s been waiting twenty-five years for this day.”
According to a series of panicked text messages sent to Daniel’s brother—who was acting as our information buffer—the scene at the airport had escalated rapidly. Mom had marched up to the priority check-in counter, presented the reservation numbers from the canceled agency invoice, and demanded their boarding passes.
When the agent informed her that the reservation had been canceled and refunded to the cardholder on Friday night, Mom had thrown a full-blown tantrum. She had demanded to speak to a supervisor, claimed she was the authorized user of the card, and attempted to book new last-minute seats right there at the counter.
The gate price for two round-trip, same-day business class tickets to Athens? Just shy of sixteen thousand dollars.
Mom had slid her emergency card across the marble counter with grand authority. The terminal agent swiped it.
*Declined.*
She tried again.
*Card frozen by issuer: suspected fraudulent activity.*
Khloe had reportedly melted down right there in the concourse, sitting on top of her oversized pink suitcase and wailing that Daniel and I were “monsters” who had ruined her pregnancy memories. When Port Authority security strolled over to investigate the disturbance, Tyler—terrified of getting an arrest record that would jeopardize his warehouse job—had dragged Khloe away by her arm, leaving Mom arguing with an armed officer about customer service rights.
“They’re currently in a rideshare heading back to Jersey,” Daniel reported, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Total cost of their morning: eighty-five dollars in tolls and parking, two wasted outfits, and infinite public humiliation.”
“And our cost?” I asked, clinking my glass against his.
“Zero dollars and zero cents,” Daniel smiled. “Boarding starts in twenty minutes, Mrs. Brooks.”
Hearing my new name sent a warm shiver through me.
When our boarding zone was called, we walked down the jet bridge, stepped into the quiet luxury of the Delta One cabin, and settled into our lie-flat seats. As the flight attendants offered us warm scented towels and pre-departure drinks, I closed my eyes.
For the last ten years, my mind had been an endless spreadsheet of other people’s crises. Did Khloe pay her electric bill? Did Mom need money for the dentist? Was Dad’s car going to pass inspection? Every buzzing vibration of my phone had triggered an instant spike of adrenaline, conditioning me to expect catastrophe unless I opened my checkbook to prevent it.
Now, as the jet engines roared to life and the plane pushed back from the gate, the silence in my head was total.
May you like
We lifted off into the cloudless blue sky over the Atlantic, leaving behind the smoke, the screaming, and the endless debts of a family that had viewed my love as nothing more than a line of credit.
***
