Taking Off

“Well, Scar, I don’t know what exactly you want me to do about it!”

My blood begins to boil. The way he knows how to dig under my skin and use it to his advantage proves this has been going on for far too long.

I reply, “Nothing! I don’t want you to do anything about it-”

He stands there for a moment.

“-I just, I hoped you could have said so earlier.”

And with only an exaggerated nose exhale and shoulder shrug, he grabs his coat and heads for the door...like he always does. There is no nano-second look of reconciliation or a quick thought of "Oh maybe I should stay so we can work things out." He just walks right out the door because he is incapable of any form of conflict if things aren’t working in his favor.

Contrary to what you may believe, this reaction is common. And no, it was not instigated. All I had asked of him was to let me know ahead of time if he is working late. He didn't do that. I had planned a nice afternoon for us. Sometimes, he has to work the morning shift on weekends so I thought it would be a good idea to make brunch for when he got home. He didn't get home until dinner, went to the bar after work for some sports game. I just wanted him to tell me, that's all. I wouldn't have wasted all this food otherwise. It's not nearly the first time. Lately, it seems as if there has been no time for me...at all. I'm only met with anger and rage, clearly.

The slam rattles the floor, his cold coffee cup teetering on the edge of the kitchen island until...it tips. Beautiful ceramic is shattered across the floor, leaving stains of lightened coffee on the hardwood. Though broken glass should be taken as an emergency, my body doesn’t move as it is one. It’s been a long time since I’ve moved as so.

I sluggishly step around the mess and into the laundry room where we keep our dirty rags and cleaning supplies. I grab some towels, the broom, and the Swiffer but realize we ran out of the attachable pads. I reach for the container of Clorox wipes instead, it will have to do.

As I am on my hands and knees grabbing for the large pieces of ceramic, I look up to the wall next to the door. The picture frames are crooked. I drop the broken pieces and immediately move towards the wall. It’s a picture of my mom and dad.

***

“Is it this way?”

“No, I just said it was to the right!” Mollie repeats.

Peter replies, “Right. Right. Got it.”

“Mhmm...sure you do.” Mollie lets out a tiny chuckle to acknowledge his joke while letting him know it was cheesy as hell.

Mollie turns to the right, with Peter following in her footsteps.

“Is this it?” Peter exclaims.

“Does this look like it’s it?”

Mollie and Peter are hiking the rainforests of the Amazon. Something Mollie has done over and over, but making this a first for Peter. In fact, she lived there for three years.

Growing up attuned to the world around her, Mollie always had a knack for wildlife. She never had a pet but considered the outside her very own animals that she can look at but not touch. Observe but never interfere with. Most people grow out of this explorer phase, get thrown into sports or dance, they begin spending more time indoors than out. But not Mollie, she stayed on this path and did not hop off.

When she was 20, she met Peter. Peter, who hopped off this path as soon as he could. Well, he never was on the path to begin with. They went to university together. Peter, studying computer science, and Mollie studying wildlife biology. Peter’s goals were to sit inside coding all day and Mollie wanted to be out in the world, exploring and researching. Needless to say, their views didn’t align. And yet, they clicked.

While Peter would sit hunched over a computer, Mollie would grab his shoulders, pull them back and give them a massage. She would remind him to blink...and breathe. He held his breath sometimes when typing. And while Mollie was working late nights in the lab, Peter would bring take-out on her dinner break, otherwise, she would have pulled out a granola bar that sat at the bottom of her bag as a meal.

But the unavoidable eventually turned up and their paths split when they found jobs at different locations. However, in this case, Mollie was off to South America. Not a different state, but a different continent. In which, she would have little access to communicate, mostly relying on letters. As much as they would have liked to make it work, they knew it would be easier to “stop while they’re ahead.” Save themselves the pain that the long-distance would cause.

Nonetheless, they became a walking cliché. You know how they say, “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, love it forever.” Yeah, well that’s the short version of what happened. Neither of them went to the 5-year college reunion, but both of them had thought about going. So, they came into town and were going to decide at the last minute. After skipping out on a weekend of festivities, they ran into each other in a coffee shop and that was it. They’ve been together since.

Now, Mollie has finally convinced Peter to come to South America with her, so she can truly show him her world. Well, his world too but one that he never would have seen without her.

“Oh, watch your step! Branch. Duck. To your left!” Mollie shouts behind her so Peter doesn't trip or fall or hit his head. One of the many things he is prone to, especially when he has no Wifi.

And then they were finally there. At the top of a hill that overlooked much of the forest. They stood there in the open air, looking out at a beautiful view, one that was full of possibilities. But Peter’s breath was racing. Partially from the long hike and also because of the box tucked into his pocket. As he reaches for it, out of nowhere comes a flying bird. Skimming Mollie’s head but aiming right for Peter’s face. He turns away but it just catches the back of his head, the talons too sharp not to leave a mark.

Instead of a quick jump to ask if Peter’s okay, Mollie screams, “Oh! Oh! A scarlet macaw! Oh, I love when I get to see those, they are just the most beautiful birds, don’t you think?”

Peter grimaces at Mollie as if saying, “Really? Well, that beautiful bird just sliced my head open!” But instead, the grimace turns to laughter and suddenly Mollie cannot contain herself either. It is just as funny to her when she realizes the ridiculousness of her excitement, but it's a wonderful bird, what else could either of them expect? Then, of course, she takes a look at his head, goes into her bag to find the first aid kit that she always keeps in case of emergencies like this one. As she is cleaning the small wound (yes, Peter was being dramatic) she says softly,

“And yes. The answer is yes.”

Peter reaches for the ring once more and this time manages to get it out. They are both kneeling on the floor, embraced in each other's love. Going back into Mollie’s deep bag, she grabs her disposable camera, sets it on a timer, and this moment is forever captured.

***

This is the picture that hangs on my wall.

I’ve heard the story a million times. Of course, I’ve had to hear this story, my name is Scarlet, after all, my dad’s embarrassing yet hilarious proposal being the center of my existence. But however many times I hear this story, I love it more and more. It captures the relationship of my parents perfectly. A goofy couple who are just simply made for each other. Don’t I deserve that too?

I grab the picture frame and pull it down. I rush to collect my things, as many clothes as I can fit, and as many items that I can bring. I leave the spilled coffee on the floor for him to clean up. After all, it is his mess.

My least favorite thing in the world to do is pack but now, nothing could possibly stop me from relentlessly gathering anything I can get my hands on. I decide to leave some things behind, mostly things that remind me of him or that he gave me. It’s not worth the trouble. Neither was me staying for so long...how did it take me this long?

My heart racing, I run back and forth to the car, packing it to the brim, stuffing as many things in as I could. I take a final swoop of the apartment, making sure I have all my chargers and necklaces. I leave a quick note on the counter, knowing that it will not be enough but will have to do for now. And lastly, I scramble to take the key off my chain and place it on the table next to the note.

Without hesitation, I exit the room, race down the hallway, hop in my car, and turn the ignition. Before I could even blink, I end up at the front door, ringing the bell.

It takes a few moments for it to be answered. And there, standing together behind the brightly colored door, are both of my parents, arms open.