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The line stays quiet for a long moment before she speaks again.
“You’re bringing him with you, right?” Her voice trembles.
“Yes.”
Maksim tugs again, impatient now.“Mamá, elefante, ¡mira!”he insists.
I nod and ruffle his curls, kissing the top of his head even as my heart twists inside my chest.
“I’ll explain everything when I come home tomorrow,” I tell her again.
She exhales a trembling breath on the other end. And then, finally:
“I can’t wait to see you and my grandson. This will really cheer your father up.”
“I’m already on my way,” I say, smiling.
We say our goodbyes and hang up reluctantly.
After the call, I open my laptop again, my fingers flying across the keys as I search for flights. I enter the route—Alicante to New York, the quickest connection I can find. There is only one flight today, and it departs in thirty-five minutes.
“Oh shit.” I curse under my breath.
There’s no way I can pack both my bag and Maksim’s and still make it to the airport in that amount of time. I refresh the resultsand click through the filters, but it still shows only this one flight heading to New York for today. Unless I can find my way to Madrid and fly to other cities in the United States.
I do a quick calculation and find that it's no use flying to other cities, because it would mean another connecting flight to New York. Instead, I book two seats against the next day. Once the confirmation hits my inbox, I grab the phone again and call Mom. She answers on the first ring.
“I couldn’t get a flight for today,” I inform her. “But I booked the earliest flight for tomorrow morning. We land just after nine.”
I hear the relief in her voice, wrapped in tears. “Okay. That’s okay. Just come. Just come,mi niña.Come with my grandson.”
“I will. We’ll be there.”
I look over at Maksim, who’s now parked in front of the TV, mesmerized by dancing cartoon animals. His innocence makes my chest tighten.
I begin packing.
Clothes. Passports. Snacks. His favorite blanket. The soft gray dino he won’t sleep without. I move quickly, methodically, not allowing myself to think too long on anything.
All day, I check in with Mom, and during one of our calls, I finally get to speak with my father.
“What is this I am hearing that you hid my grandson from me?” He asks weakly.
“Don’t worry, Papa, I will tell you everything when I come.”
He grunts and reluctantly agrees. Not because he does not want to argue, but because his illness has left him too weak to do anything else.
I ask Mom to send me updates, and she does. Each time, I feel the knot in my chest pull tighter.
Night falls slowly.
Maksim falls asleep early, curled against my side, unaware that the world is about to shift beneath his feet.
I lie beside him in bed, one hand on his back, the other clutching my phone. Every few hours, I message Mom again. I can’t sleep, and don’t want to, because every hour that passes is one hour closer to home.
And I can’t deny that part of me wonders if I’ll ever run into Zasha in New York. After all, we move in the same circle.
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