I drove home with three coffees cooling in the cupholders.
At my apartment, I carried my suitcase back up the stairs and set it by the door. I didn’t unpack it. I put the itinerary folder on the kitchen counter and sat down on a stool beside it.
I had made that folder by hand. Printed every confirmation, every map, every restaurant menu translated into English. I’d bought a nice leather cover from a stationery shop downtown. On the front, in gold lettering I’d paid an extra eleven dollars for, it said Our Week Away.
I turned it facedown.
I had taken seven days of vacation from work. I’m a compliance manager at a mid-sized financial services firm in the Loop. I spend my days reading other people’s paperwork, finding the numbers that don’t match, asking the questions nobody wants to answer. It’s not glamorous. But I’m good at it. I hadn’t taken a full week off in almost three years.
For the first time in a long time, there was nothing on my calendar that somebody else needed from me.
I had no idea what to do with that.
I made a sandwich and didn’t eat it. I turned on the television and didn’t watch it. I sat on the couch and looked at the suitcase by the door.
My mother’s first call came about an hour after their flight landed in Paris.
I watched her name light up on the screen. Mom, with a little heart emoji next to it that Talia had added years ago as a joke. I watched it ring until it stopped.
Then Dad called. Marek Volkov, the contact said. I’d never changed it to Dad.
Then Talia.
Then the messages started coming in bursts.
Where is the driver?
Answer your phone.
The hotel says there’s a problem with the booking.
NINA.
Then, finally, a photograph.
My parents standing next to their luggage under the brass ceiling lights of the hotel lobby. Talia in the front of the picture, one arm stretched out toward the reception desk like a game show host showing off a prize.
Under it, two words.
Fix this.
I looked at the picture for a long time.
My mother was wearing the cream coat. I remembered standing outside the fitting room while she turned in front of the mirror. She asked me if it looked elegant enough for Europe. She sounded nervous, like a girl going to her first dance.
“You look beautiful, Mom,” I told her.
She smiled at me in the mirror. It was the happiest I’d seen her look in a long time.
That memory hurt worse than anything Talia had typed.
I called Dad back.
He answered on the first ring.
“What have you done?”
“I told you what I did. It’s in the message.”
“They don’t have rooms for us, Nina. They say the reservation was canceled.”
“The reservation was in my name. I canceled it.”
“Your mother is exhausted. We’ve been traveling for eleven hours.”
“So am I, Dad.”
“Don’t be like that.”
Behind him, I heard Talia say something sharp in a voice I couldn’t make out.
Then there was a rustle, and my mother came on the line.
“How could you humiliate us like this? In front of all these people?”
Ethan Blake is a skilled Creative Content Specialist with a talent for crafting engaging and thought-provoking narratives. With a strong background in storytelling and digital content creation, Ethan brings a unique perspective to his role at TheArchivists, where he curates and produces captivating content for a global audience.
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