On My 18th Birthday, My Parents Drove Me to the Ai…

I knew her parents were “gone,” though whether that meant dead, estranged, or inconvenient had never been clarified. Once, when I was eleven, I asked why I had no grandparents. My father looked up from his newspaper and said, “Some people are better left in the past.”

My mother dropped a spoon in the sink so hard the sound made me jump.

I never asked again. The flight was short, but it felt like crossing out of one life and into something that had not yet decided whether it would be merciful. I sat by the window.

Clouds spread beneath us like torn cotton. A flight attendant asked if I wanted water, and I nodded because speech seemed difficult. Around me, people read books, slept, watched movies, ate pretzels.