33. Clarissa

I pullup to the airport, and surprisingly, the traffic was light, at least on my way here. The actual airport is still flooded with people and cars moving about. I get in line, parking off to the side. My mom sent me a text fifteen minutes ago that they would be out soon. Dad’s in a wheelchair, and they have airport staff helping with luggage and getting them to the exit. I wanted to come in, but she was adamant they had it under control.

Just as I look at my phone to check the time, they come rolling out. When I see their faces, I break. I jump out of the car and sprint through the crowd. I pull my mom into a hug and lean down to hug my dad, taking her with me. It’s awkward, but I hold onto both of them, doing my best to ignore the height difference from my dad sitting.

“Pumpkin, not so tight,” my dad says, and I jump back.

“Sorry,” I say. The attendant smiles and asks which car is mine. I point, and they move to put the luggage in the back.

“How are you feeling?”

My mom smiles as she stands next to my dad, who looks so much like his normal self. I guess I was expected to see visible signs of something wrong, but I see nothing aside from the slight bags under his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He smiles and pats my arm.

“And the flight was good?”

My mom nods before I finish. “The flight was amazing. Thank you so much, Clarissa. How did you afford to bump us up?”

I furrow my brows and stand straighter.

“I wasn’t thinking about the details. You know we just wanted to get back, but I appreciate you setting up the support at the gates and the wheelchair.”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“The first class was nice. I was willing to take anything so we could get back, but the airline contacted us, and it was all arranged. It took so much pressure off.”

Now my mouth is open, and I go back into my mind. Did I call the airport and upgrade their travel and forget? Arguably, I’ve been dealing with a lot, and surely my memory has suffered. Last week I almost missed a deadline for upgrade rollouts at work, but this is not something I would forget.

Then it hits me. This must be Rissa. She travels so much and gets the most amazing perks. She must have pulled some strings to get my parents home comfortably. I take a deep breath, determined not to cry again. She really is the best.

“I’m so glad. Here, let’s get you in the car,” I say as the airport attendant waits on the curb. I smile and move to roll my dad closer.

“I can walk,” Dad says, moving from my hold and standing.

I see my mom looking and about to say something, so I jump in. “Okay, that’s fine.”

My mom nods but doesn’t speak, and my dad shifts to get in the car. The attendant takes the wheelchair, and my mom gets in the car too.

The drive is quiet, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just so happy to have them finally back where I can touch them. I pull up the GPS directions to my dad’s doctor.

I keep looking at my dad in the rearview mirror, and when he catches me, I dart away. After the fifth time, he speaks. “I’m okay, Pumpkin. I see you keep looking at me like I’m going to break.”

My mom turns to me and rubs my arm.

“Sorry, I know.”

“Don’t be. I know you and your mother were scared. But I don’t want you to worry,” he says.

I give him a close-lipped smile and focus on the road. When we get to the doctor’s office, I unbuckle to help my dad get out, but he stops me.

“I got it. Me and your mother will go in. It might be a while, so if you want to grab yourself something to eat or get coffee, we can let you know when it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

My mom gets out and goes to the back to get my dad. He’s slow to move, and I want to help, but that determined focus is clear. I can already sense the stubbornness we’re about to endure.

They disappear inside, and I lay back on the headrest. I rub my eyes and release a breath.

I’m scared if I leave, they’ll be ready to go. The more time passes, the more I think I’ve waited too late, and for sure, they will be ready as soon as I get on the road. So I sit and wait.

I start an audiobook, hoping that will help me pass the time, but I can’t focus on the words I’m hearing, and I find myself rewinding it to hear them again. After fifteen minutes of half-listening, I turn it off.

I scroll my phone, looking for any time wasters, and almost choke on my spit at the text that comes through.

Tyree: Can we talk?

Since I called off the engagement, I haven’t spoken to him. I can still see his amber-brown eyes swimming in tears. I clutch the phone to my chest, feeling like my world is coming to an end. I know it’s not, but damn, I hate this. I want to say no. I can’t talk, but I also feel responsible. I am clear on my decision, but it’s still complicated.

Me: Okay.

Not even a second later, my phone is ringing. It’s showing a picture of Tyree smiling while focused on the camera. It rings two more times before I snap out of it and answer.

“Hello.”

There’s a pause and a throat clearing on the other end.

“Clarissa.”

A knot twists its way to my esophagus, and I close my eyes. I wait. Wait for him to scream and yell. Tell me I’m selfish and a horrible person. But he doesn’t.

“How have you been?” he asks, and I open my eyes to see the doctor’s office sign announcing their services out front. His tone is strained but still open, like he really wants to know, and my gut twists.

“O—okay.”

“Good. Yeah, that’s good,” he says and then clears his throat. “And Mr. Camp? Is everything?—”

“No, he’s good too. They just flew back today, and he’s seeing his doctor now.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine. I’m just waiting for them.”

As the words leave my lips, I wait for confirmation he heard me, but he only hums. Then there’s silence. It’s thick and wild. It oozes from the phone, and I’m frozen with my brows high as I wait.

I don’t know what more to say, so I say nothing. He must have the same sentiment because he also adds nothing.

“Sorry, I—thought this would be easier.” His thick voice interrupts the quiet.

“If only.”

“Listen, Clarissa, I—” He clears his throat. “I’d be lying if I said I was okay with this. That I don’t think of you every day and miss you like—” His words are cut off by his voice breaking, and goddamnit. My eyes are filling with tears. “Please come home.”

It’s not as if I was doing a great job holding in my tears. I’ve cried so much I could probably fill a gallon water jug, but his voice saying those words breaks the dam. I can barely hear him over my sniffles. I think he’s telling me not to cry, but when has someone telling you not to cry actually yielded those results? I cry harder for my dad, for him, for our families that will be unequivocally fractured.

In the midst of crying, my door opens, and it’s my mom. She’s talking, but I can’t hear her. She pulls the phone from my ear. “Whoever this is, she has to call you back.” She doesn’t wait for a response, and then I’m wrapped in warmth.

“Clarissa, what is it?”

More tears spill, and I’m trying to catch my breath, but I can’t.

“Hey now, calm down. Who was that?” my dad asks, hovering just outside of the car.

After a minute, I pull back and wipe my eyes, and my parents’ faces are etched in concern.

“What happened?” Mom asks.

I hold up my hand, fighting that lump again and trying to clean my face. “It was Tyree.”

“What? Why would that make you cry?” Dad asks with his brows bunched like he’s ready for war. I shake my head, seeing them get madder, thinking he did something to me. I tell them to get in the car, and I prepare to drop another bomb. With everything they have been dealing with, I never mentioned my failed engagement.

My mom is on the passenger side, and she leans over to grab my hand. My dad is in the back seat, and he leans forward to join us.

I swallow and release a breath before I start. “Okay, so— I—with everything?—”

“Clarissa, what is it?”

“I—called off the wedding.”

“What did he do?” Dad jumps in before my mom tells him to calm down and about keeping his stress down.

“Dad, it’s not him. He didn’t do anything. I just didn’t want it anymore.”

My parents pause and lean back, not speaking.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I ask, surprised.

“Marriage is a big commitment. If your feelings change, you shouldn’t force it.”

A weight I didn’t know was on my shoulders is lifted. With the way our families are so tightly connected, I thought their response would be different. We spend our holidays together every year.

“I thought you would be disappointed.”

“Disappointed? No. I mean, it’s a lot to have to explain, but at the end of the day, whatever it costs you, happiness comes first. Maybe it’s my recent medical emergency, but when I was falling to the floor in pain, I thought about the things that meant the most to me. I thought about you and your mother. I thought about never seeing you again.” He shakes his head like he’s back in the moment, and I wipe my tears. “After that, nothing else matters.”

I’m not sure why I’m surprised they aren’t more upset, but their response is so needed. I tell them about how I’m feeling and why I made this decision. I tell them about my staying with Rissa and how this was the first time Tyree had called since it happened.

We sit in the car, and I feel like I can breathe a little easier.

“Wait, what about you? The doctor, what did they say?”

My dad laughs and shakes his head. “I’m fine, like I told you and your mother.”

I turn to my mom to confirm, and she nods.

“He is. Everything came back normal. He has to change his diet and the way he handles stress and exercise, but he was pleased with the results.”

Eventually, we drive away, and I spend the afternoon with them. I get their place set up and have groceries delivered. I unpack their luggage and wash their clothes—anything to keep myself busy from worrying.