Page 9 of Satan's Spawn

My mom and Roman spent the majority of the time talking through plans when we landed: plans for next week, the week after that, and so on. I kept mostly to myself, laying down with Potato as I switched between overthinking my decision not to protest the move more and watching reruns ofParenthood.

I dozed off around the second episode and surprisingly, by the time I woke up, we were preparing for landing.

Standing in some airport, dog in hand, I look around at all the travelers rushing around me to get to their destination.

Some in suits, some in dresses, some alone and some with families—but all sharing one thing in common—having their shit figured out so much more than I do right now.

“Here you go, sweetie.” Mom holds out a tablet, along with a water bottle, and I hike my duffle bag over my shoulder to take the medicine from her.

“Thanks.” I pop it in my mouth, reaching for the water next to take a sip. “I didn’t want to risk forgetting a dose on the way to the condo.”

Mom smiles as I pour some water into Potato’s mouth, then says, “Roman should be back from the bathroom any minute. Then we’ll be on our way.”

“He’s back, bearing gifts!” Roman approaches us, balancing three Starbucks cups in his hands.

“For you, dear.” He gives her one, then turns to me. “And a green tea for you, Bex.”

“Thanks, Ro.” I shove the water into the side of my duffle and take the cup from him.

“There’s a town car waiting outside for us. With no traffic, we should get to the city in about forty minutes. Our bags are already being transferred to the car.”

The plane landed in some fancy airport in New Jersey, just outside of Manhattan, which Roman uses occasionally when he has business here.

Guess he won’t have to use it as much anymore.

“Let’s grab a bite to eat first, I’m starving.” Mom suggests, blowing into her cup. “Maybe Carina’s Bistro? Then after we can drive through Time Square?”

Seriously? Now?

I know Mom is itching to get her hands full of the city again, but all I want to do right now is collapse into a bed and sleep off this trip.

Exploring is not even on my radar, not tonight at least.

Which is what I should be saying, but I don’t. Not that it would make a difference, because Roman says, “If that’s what my lady wants, then that’s what she gets.”

I usually find it adorable how much this man dotes on my mom, but right now, it’s nothing but dreadful.

I swallow these feelings down, even when Mom asks, “You okay with that, sweetie?”

No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay with any of this. But the hopeful glisten in her eye makes it clear how okay she is with it.

Am I supposed to take that away?

“I guess. Sure.” Looking down at the pooch falling asleep in my arms, I add, “But what about Potato?”

“He can sit with the driver as we eat. It’s no problem.” Roman reassures.

Damn, I wish it was.

With that, I nod, and both Roman and my mom grip the handle on their luggage and begin pulling it through the airport.

I follow behind, squeezing Potato to my chest as I trail them, watching as Roman gazes so lovingly down at my mom it almost makes me feel bad for being so apprehensive about everything.

Almost.

Because I can’t help but wonder if I would feel this way if Dad was here instead of him.

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