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fourteen
The scenery rushes through my line of sight—a rapid reel of lush, green surroundings. Colonial-style homes line the street of each subdivision we zoom by as we make our way to Nick. No one speaks, and exhaustion sits heavy on all of our shoulders.
It’s been more than two hours since we landed in the capital and hired a driver to take us across to them. The closer we get, I see for myself the destruction, the chaos left behind by mother nature’s explosive temper.
Nick is my champion. A hero.
High mountains surround us on either side of the winding road we are on; I’ve lost track of how many turns and the determined faces that are ready to rebuild their beloved country.
I can never imagine the things he’s seen over his years of traveling abroad and helping those less fortunate, but I see the allure to do so. The more I see, the more I want to stop this car and help. Give them what we take for granted day in and day out.
It puts things into perspective.
My eyes flicker away from the window and toward his parents who sit in the row in front of us. Caroline has her face on her husband’s shoulder while his arms squeezes her tight, a silent show of support.
They’ve been more than amazing to a pair of total strangers that have barely just begun a relationship with their son and his friend. They flew us out—took care of all preparation and wouldn’t accept a dime when we asked to take care of the cost. Not even the hotel close to the hospital where we will stay until they can come home.
The only thing they asked of us is to call our school and explain the family emergency. That we attain assignments through email and try not to fall too behind, something that both the dean and professors promised wouldn’t be an issue. This is a light semester, just beginning, and all three classes have quite a bit of reading material to sift through the first few weeks.
Crystal’s phone pings beside me, and I look over. She mouths the word Mom and replies.
Makes me think of my own. Everyone is worried and not over our impromptu departure.
Jesus, so much has happened—is happening—that my head’s spinning.
A few seconds later, my own receives a text from my parents.
Did you land? ~Mom
Is he awake yet? ~Mom
They’ve been amazing through it all. My rushed explanation and then the news I would be traveling to a foreign country with virtual strangers. Our parents—Nicholas’s and mine—spoke after I landed in California. Whatever questions were asked, or information shared, I have no clue, but it’s enough to quell any apprehension they might’ve silently had.
Not once have they given me grief or questioned my choice. Instead, I was met with understanding and support—told to call them when we land and when I see him. That they can’t wait to meet the man that their level-headed daughter loves.
They want to be here for me and him. Do what they can until we get Nick home and they can visit.
And while it might be weird to some, their acceptance is important. They too fell in love in a matter of days and have been together for over twenty-four years. A happy marriage. Inseparable since the first moment they laid eyes on each other at a freshman orientation mixer.
They love hard and have always wanted for me what they share.
That all-encompassing love that leaves you smiling all day. That gives and equally takes—supports and cherishes every single instant that you are in each other’s presence.
“Do you love him, baby?” my mother asks while Dad gives a grunt somewhere in the background. It’s for show, and a second later he lets out a boisterous laugh when Mom clears her throat. It’s a specific sound she’s been making since I can remember, a mixture of coughing/whistling that is beyond weird, but he finds endearing. “Ignore him and answer me, Mila.”
“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m just doing my fatherly duty. Until the “I Love Yous” have been exchanged, he’s the enemy.”
“Daddy, I love him.” I’m at the airport in Charleston waiting for our flight to board, while Crissy hunts down some coffee. “I know it’s fast, a little bit reckless, but I do and with all my heart. He’s my person.”
“Does he love you? Treat you right?”
“Yes.”
“Then that’s all I need to know. Call us if you need anything, baby…don’t worry about the time or cell phone bill. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you,” I breathe out as a weight lifts off my shoulder.
At that moment, I realized how much their approval of my action and relationship mean to me. That they’re okay with this. Me and Nick.
