Page 4 of Sweet Poison
Should I even do this? Am I making a mistake?
I stare at the open suitcase on my bed, feeling a knot tighten in my chest. My favorite mint sweater and white sneakers I was trying to pack makes this even more real. Every trip I’ve everbeen on has always been with my parents or my uncles and aunts but I’ve never been on my own.
I’ve been so busy getting everything ready for the research trip the last couple of weeks that I haven’t had time to sit and think.
I’ll be leaving my parents for the first time. I’ve never left home, not even for college. I graduated early and headed to Penn. A university close to home. It was safe and that’s all I’ve ever been…safe.
I love my family and the thought of leaving the safe little bubble my parents made for me always gives me anxiety but I know although this trip might be scary it is necessary not only for my career but for my personal growth as well. I need to spread my wings or so my cousins Ella and Raiza say.
Taking a deep sigh, I turn to look at the window. Outside the snow is falling softly, dusting everything in sight in white. Mom decorated the house for Christmas using tones of red, white and green. She says that those are the true colors of Christmas and won’t accept anything else. My aunt Arianna decorated her home in a white Christmas theme as always and aunt Kadra opted for a black Christmas. Very on brand for the Solonik family.
As I look at the snow falling outside my window, I think of how it is a week before Christmas, and here I was, about to leave my haven for a work research trip. A research trip that has the potential to be one of the most important achievements of my career. GreenPlanet Lab, the company I work for, is sending me and four of my work colleagues on an all paid trip. Ethan, Bernie, Cleo and Maya are all coming with and they’re all so excited to have been chosen for this trip although they’ve all been on research trips before so this is nothing new to them. I’ve only been with the company for a year and this is the first time I was asked to travel for work. I knew it was coming but I didn’t thinkit would be during the holidays. I love Christmas at home but most of all I love a white Christmas where I go outside and make snowmen with Mom and Dad and have Christmas eve dinner with all my family surrounded by the fire while my Dad and uncles argue and threaten to kill each other and burn their cities down when they get mad. I won’t have that where I’m going.
“Angel Girl,” Mom taps my shoulders, snapping me out of my thoughts. My eyes meet a beautiful shade of green. My favorite color. Even through my anxiety, I smile. My mother, Mila, is the epitome of effortless beauty with her long blonde curls cascading down her back and her makeup-free face that still looks like it did when she was my age. She’s as pretty now as she was when I was younger. No, she’s grown even more beautiful with time— a fact my father would wholeheartedly agree with. He’s obsessed with my mom. It’s sweet.
They’ve always been loving, not only towards me but towards each other. I grew up in a home full of love and happiness. Maybe that’s why the thought of leaving them— and not just them, but my uncles Callam, Bain, my aunt Maeve, and my Papa Cathan too—makes me terribly sad.
Trying not to think too hard about all that I’m leaving behind this holiday season, I look at my mother as she smiles with her entire face while using sign language and whispering at the same time. My parents learned sign language the moment they found out I failed the hearing test when I was born. You see, Mom had a difficult labor, and as a result of some complications, I was born with 70% hearing loss. They gave me all the tools I needed to manage my disability, from sign language lessons to cochlear implants. Yet, they couldn’t shield me from everything that came with not fitting into what society deems as “normal.”
They feel guilty. I know it. Even though they shouldn’t, because they did everything to give me the best life. And I didhave, and still have the best life, even if it wasn’t always filled with sunshine and unicorns like they wished for me.
But I survived.
Because I’m their daughter.
The very best of them.
“Willow…” Mom says softly. “You’ll have a magical time. The most wonderful time. You’ll see.” I watch her, feeling a pang of sadness. She’s always had trouble with eye contact; her gaze often skims the floor or shifts to the side. Yet she always does her best to give us her lovely eyes, even if only for a brief moment.
Although Dad is our protector and the strongest man I know, Mom is pretty damn strong herself. She’s never told me about the struggles she’s faced and still faces because of her own disability, but I can imagine. Despite everything, her smile has never faltered, and she always has a kind word for everyone she meets.
She and Dad are my everything.
“I—I,” I say, though my voice wavers. I zip up my yellow suitcase, my hands moving automatically. “I just keep thinking about how close Christmas is and how far away I’ll be from you both. I’ll miss you like crazy. I don’t want to leave you,” I whisper while Mom’s hand gently brushes against my shoulder. It’s a small touch, but it felt like a lifeline. My parents’ kind words of encouragement and magical hugs always make me feel like everything is right in the world, even when it isn’t.
“Baby girl,” Mom says softly, her voice steady even though her eyes focus on a spot just over my shoulder. “Everything will be alright. You’re brilliant, and we’re so proud of you, Willow. This trip will make you plenty of memories, you’ll see, and your Dad and I will be here waiting to celebrate the holidays when you come back.” Her hand on my shoulder feels warm and reassuring. I took a deep breath, feeling the knot in my chest loosen a bit. “And who knows, you might even find your betterhalf there. I sure found mine on my first trip ever.” Mom adds, beaming at Dad, who is looking at her with soft eyes filled with love.
“Let’s not give her any ideas, baby,” Dad grumbles, but the softness in his eyes shows he is anything but annoyed. Mom’s smile widens mischievously.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper looking at the two of them. “I know I shouldn’t be this attached to you both.”
“Who says?” Dad barks.
I give him a half smile. “Normal society.”
“But we aren’t normal, Angel Girl and society is ordinary.” Mom gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “This family is extraordinary and it’s okay to feel that way. It means you love us as much as we love you. Just remember, we’re always here for you, no matter how far you go. You, Willow, are always in our hearts, and we’ll be here,” she taps my chest three times, making me smile. “Distance will never change that.”
Mom taught me when I was little that tapping my heart three times would make the pain slowly disappear. I never had the heart to tell her that it didn’t quite work for me. The pain others cause never ceased. It didn’t magically disappear. I just bottled it all up and tried my best to not let it get me down.
But it obviously didn’t always work because I let what others thought of me hide my voice in shame. The thought of others hearing my voice at times cripples me.
Dad comes over and places two fingers under my chin, making me look up at him. “If you need anything, just call us. We’re just a phone call away.” He then throws his arm over Mom’s shoulders and pulls us all closer. “One call,Mo Chuisle. One call, and we’ll hop on a plane and get you.”
My father, Riagan O’Sullivan, is the best man I know. The sword and shield of this family. He’s always been the one I run to when I’m scared or hurt, and even now that I’m in my mid-twenties, I still feel that same way. My Dad is all that to me and Mom, but to this city, he is the boss, aka the Godfather.
Yes, my father is a criminal to some and a hero to others. It all depends on how you look at it. Mom says that Dad does what the good guys fail to do. She also reminds me of what really matters—what truly is valuable about a person. Their hearts, and my father has the biggest heart I know.
“One call…” I whisper, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill at this emotional moment while reaching up and tracing my name inked on my father’s neck. “I love you both so much,” I whisper.
