Chapter 23 Kelly Kaplan

Nothing Works

Three Days Until Christmas

I tap my toe impatiently as I stand in the line to go through TSA.

I should have taken Ava's advice about the pre-check approval, but I didn't, and now I'm stuck in this long line waiting forever like everybody else.

I desperately have to pee after chugging down that bottle of water on the way here, and all I can think about is the fact that we’re going to miss our flight.

And it's not just missing the flight but the fear I have of flying attacking me right now.

I have always had this issue. It's nothing new, but it still comes out of left field every time, and I really hate it.

We finally make it through security, and Austin was right when he said we had plenty of time. I should have believed him, but I still run for the gate to make sure the flight isn't boarding, only to discover we have an hour to kill. We go to the bathroom and alleviate at least that need.

And that brings in my next issue, which is attempting to use the bathroom with a nearly one-year-old child. This is another one of those joys of motherhood that nobody talks about. And my mom tells me it's about to get even worse once we get to the potty-training phase because apparently kids really enjoy a tour of every public restroom we should ever happen to encounter.

I’m really looking forward to that stage…in no way whatsoever.

Eventually we board the plane. We make it to the aisle seat in case I need to get out of the row to walk and bounce during the flight, but my little girl? She’s an angel. I have nothing to worry about.

The little pigtails I made by gathering her sweet little locks of thin baby hair are tickling my chin as I get us buckled in, and I’m sweating from heaving this twenty-pounder through the airport along with the diaper bag packed with snacks and treats and entertainment for my little one.

An older couple boards and nods toward the window and middle seat beside me, so I get out with Mia and offer a smile. “I’ll do my best to keep her quiet,” I say lightly, and the older gentleman gives me a little bit of a grimace. These don’t seem like kid people, and that doesn’t exactly help my anxiety.

A man in a business suit takes the seat in front of us, and he doesn’t make eye contact with me, but I can see the irritation on his face as he slides into his seat.

Are people really this rude, or am I just riding the high of flight anxiety? It has to just be me.

The flight is a little under four hours, and the flight attendant closes the front door and lets us know we're cleared for takeoff.

That's the moment sweet baby Mia decides she doesn't want to be on this airplane.

It’s a scream that Austin can probably hear from his house miles away, and I turn her in my arms and pat her back, but she starts to kick me and scream even louder.

I quickly turn her back around so I don’t leave this flight with a broken rib, and I do everything in my power to keep her quiet as the flight attendant starts her safety speech, but it’s useless. Mia kicks her feet against the seat in front of us, and I probably should have just sprung for a seat for her where she could fall asleep beside me and her feet would've been far enough away from the seat in front of her to prevent her from kicking it. But I didn’t.

The guy in front of me turns around with a glare.

“Sorry,” I say, and I feel like I could cry.

And then the man next to me shushes her.

He shushes her!

I’m met with glares because I have a screaming, unhappy, probably scared child on my lap for the next four hours.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I sing to her. I try to feed her, and she just throws the goldfish everywhere—including one that lands on the lap of the man beside me. I give her a toy. I play music for her. When we’re able to unbuckle, I get up and walk her around.

Nothing works.

She’s dead set on screaming for four hours.

It doesn't get better as we fly toward our destination…until I hear the plane’s landing gear deploy. This sweet child of mine chooses that moment to fall asleep.

You know, the moment when it would probably make it easier if she was awake so we could navigate the airport and get to baggage claim. But that's not my luck today.

I'm pretty sure everyone on the plane is staring at me as we get off, but I tried to remember Austin's advice of fuck them. I quite like the sentiment, but I'm having a harder time with the execution.

I carry the sleeping Mia through the airport toward baggage claim, and that's where I spot my mom and dad waiting for me with smiles on their faces.

“Aww, did my sweet grandbaby sleep the whole flight?” my mom asks as she hugs me around the baby.

The man who was sitting beside us on the plane chooses that moment to walk by with a snort.

I roll my eyes. “Not so much.”

“Well, this little angel baby is sleeping now, and she’s still the most beautiful baby I've ever seen in my life.” My mom takes her from my arms, and Mia continues her nap nestled in the arms of her grandmother.

I give my dad a hug, and we head over to wait for my suitcase. It's as we’re on our way to my grandparents’ house that I can finally take a deep breath.

Until my dad’s next question. “How is Austin doing?”

He always asks about the father of his grandchild, though he doesn’t know we’re seeing each other again. I think, even though it's weird for him to admit since he obviously knows where babies come from, he thinks it's pretty damn cool that his granddaughter’s father is a pro football star.

It’s only when my dad mentions his name that I realize because of the insanity of the flight and the screaming child that pretty much drove every rational thought straight from my mind, I haven't had time to really think about Austin since we parted ways at the airport.

“He’s good,” I say, though I'm not really sure that's entirely true.

He seemed pretty upset over getting his results, and I really didn't have time to consider his question when he asked whether I believed him since I was running late.

“And how are the two of you, you know, with each other?” my mom asks.

“We’re sort of giving things a try again.”

My mom squeals. She’s always told me how handsome she thinks he is— dashing was her exact word, but I’d just call him hot .

“Can I ask what changed?” she asks.

We're close enough that I can talk to her about these types of things.

“He’s trying so hard to do better for Mia. And then he told me he thinks he's in love with me, and I realized that I feel the same way.” I shrug, and my mom squeals again.

We arrive at my grandparents’ house, which presents a whole other level of chaos as great-grandparents meet their great-grandchild for only the second time since she was born.

I sit back and take photos and push everything with Austin to the back of my mind.

It isn’t until I’m putting Mia to bed that I realize I haven’t talked to Austin at all today, and I’d love for him to be able to say goodnight to our girl.

As I pull out my phone, I think about how I haven’t really had time to process what’s going on with him. I want to believe that he’s telling the truth, and yet I find myself torn.

He's going through this thing, and I'm sitting here expecting him to be at home fighting for people to believe that he didn't do what this lab is claiming. Instead, when I call him before we go to bed so Mia can say goodnight to her daddy…the call goes to voicemail.

I don’t hear from him before I go to sleep, exhausted from a taxing day.

And when I wake up in the morning, I don't have a call back from him.

Instead, as I scroll through my Instagram, I see him tagged in photos from last night.

I don't really care if he goes out with his friends and his teammates, and I'm not here to stop him from doing that. But if he is as sad and worried about his reputation as he appeared to be, should he really be out drinking in public?

And the bigger question it begs is whether this is truly what I want for myself and for Mia, who’s still sleeping soundly in the little travel crib my parents bought for her to sleep in here.

Do I want to be with someone who ignores my call in favor of drinking with friends? I push those thoughts away. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. I set my phone down and walk over to the window to stare out at the gray morning. The cold, gray skies match my mood.

Snow is starting to fall, so we’ll have a white Christmas. Just like the song, and just like all my memories of the holiday growing up. Mia will have those same memories.

But will Austin be a part of them?

I watch the snow fall as a deep sadness washes over me.

I would love for this to work, but I'm afraid we might be at another point where we missed our chance again.