Page 19 of It's Not PMS, It's You

“Have you eaten?” my mom asked.

I nodded. “Sushi.”

I would need to tell them about what happened at some point, but that could wait for now. They watched the news every night. They had probably heard about it, but they had no idea that I was on that plane.

I followed them into the kitchen and stopped in shock, not recognizing a thing. “You already remodeled?” I glanced around at the playful pastel colors throughout, the bay window over the sink, the huge kitchen island, the new quartz countertops, new stainless steel appliances, and the ceramic tile floor. “Wow. I love it. I thought you were going to remodel next year.”

My dad laughed. “We told you thatlastyear, sonextyear is actuallythisyear. Well, technically six months ago.” He winked. “Time flies, huh? Let me give you a tour.”

The house was beautiful.

There was so much light from the two new skylights and a lovely array of colors, including the yellow kitchen. It was completely opposite of mine because my parents’ place felt like it was full of life and love.

It was a home.

My house felt sterile and boring, like the waiting area at my dentist’s office. The only things missing were the year-old copies ofPeopleandBetter Homes & Gardensmagazines.

I’d designed it that way since I didn’t want any distractions. Anything that caused feelings and emotions would take my focus off my work. That’s what my boss had told me countless times, and I had drilled it into my brain, so I wouldn’t forget it. Nothing was more important to me than my work and I needed my home office to be the most important room in my house if I wanted any chance of becoming managing partner.

I wondered if I had been making a mistake all these years because my parents’ home gave me positive energy, and it felt wonderful. Yellow was my favorite color, but you wouldn’t have found it anywhere in my house.

At least I was working on my backyard. That was a start.

After my dad showed me the rest of the house, we headed back to the kitchen.

I slid onto the bar stool on the other side of the kitchen island.

My mom moved closer, rubbing the top of my hand on the counter. “Why are you so emotional today? We got your text and were worried. We called twice and left messages both times, but never heard back from you.”

“Oh—sorry. I didn’t even know I had messages since my phone was off.”

My dad blinked. “Your phone was off? Your phone is never off.”

He had a good point.

I couldn’t live without my phone. My head was obviously in the clouds since I hadn’t even once thought about my phone since I had gotten off the plane.

“I turned it off after I sent you the text, when we were landing. I came straight here in a taxi from the airport. I had to fly out of town on business.”

“Did you fly into San Diego?”

I nodded, wondering how I was going to tell them that I thought I was going to die.

“Not sure if you saw it, but a plane had to land without the landing gear. Imagine that! The news had live coverage of the landing and it looked scary as hell.”

“I was on that plane.” My eyes burned. Soon I was sobbing like a baby again.

Why was I so weak today?

Because you almost died, you fool.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried, and there I went again, crying for the second time in the same day.

It was a bit jolting and hard to comprehend because I considered myself the strongest woman I knew. I had trained myself not to get emotional, especially working in a field dominated by men, men who didn’t treat me with respect and had called me just about every name in the book to try to intimidate me. I’d been called the A word, the B word, and the C word more times than I could count. I’d developed thick skin in the process, but that obviously didn’t count when your life was on the line.

“You were on that plane?” My dad kissed me on the top of the head. “I can’t imagine what it was like. Thank God nothing happened, and you all walked away.”

I sniffled. “It was horrible. I had no idea if we were all going to die or not. I had no idea if I was ever going to see you again. And then I felt guilty.”