Lucas was already over there with two friends, and as we drove to the airport I had the feeling that her flying alone across the dark, empty ocean was practice for her real departure, to college, a month from now.
The airport was empty, as if she had some power to wipe out anyone who might try to stop her. Leah wore loose, soft clothing, and a bucket hat pulled down on her head. She was competent and smooth. Read an interview with the author for the story behind the story.
I watched her go through security. As she went by, she flashed a peace signโat me or maybe at the Amish-looking woman beside me, in a starched cap and timeless flowered dress, black socks and sneakersโand some portal opened into her future, while I was recorded and preserved, folded into history.
Lucas had been sending updates for the past week as he and his friends met up with another group of boys in Bilbao. They were sick from clubbing until 7 a. He was glad to be splitting off from the others for the next part of the trip. Leah had shown me a photo from a beach on the northwestern coast of Spain, an intimate closeup of a boy, camera aimed up his nose, while another boy leaned inโthis was Lucasโmouth open, tongue and teeth glistening.
Ninth-grade math; spots on her face; mean girls; test prep; her infected nose ring; the boy she fooled around with in the bottom of a rowboat; the Olaplex hair tonic to repair damaged hair; college applications; the personal essay; White Claw; Lucas; prom. What was I doing? She called back, but I let it go to voice mail.
