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“Let me just check that for you.” She tapped at light speed on her keyboard and shrugged. “It seems the flight went fine. It landed fifty-seven minutes ago and the disembarking was completed. What’s the name of the passenger?”
“Salvatrice Carter.”
She tapped some more.
“Umm, is this spelling correct?” She made me look at her screen at a search bar.
“Yes.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but there was no one with this name on board. Are you sure you have the right information?”
I felt like someone dunked me in arctic cold water without a warning. What the fuck was happening?
“I…” No. She couldn’t. “Maybe she’s on the flight coming tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, but there are only two flights a week on the Genova-New York City route.”
“Ok, thank you.”
I turned and virtually ran out into the night air, trying my best to breathe and not lose my fucking mind. I didn’t have the wrong flight information, or the wrong date; things were way simpler than that. She was not coming.
Salvatrice Carter had left me high and dry once again, only this time I wasn’t the only one she cheated. This time, she walked out on our daughter.
~~~
I had no idea how I made the drive home because even now, when I was in my living room, my vision was entirely black. I couldn’t focus on anything. How could she do that to me? What kind of fucking mother…?
No, something had to be wrong. She couldn’t hate me so much, be so disgusted by who I was, and still let me take her daughter.
I did nothing but love her, cherish her, and sing her praises, and all I got in return was pain. It was like someone shot at me with a fucking cannon ball. The wound was so raw and the agony so intense, it almost brought me to my knees. I’d been here before, left behind by the woman I loved like she was the source of life itself, but it wasn’t like this, no. I remember vividly every hour after she was gone. Every moment of pure agony was embossed in my soul, but this time it was unbearable. All I wanted was to drown in a barrel of whisky and never come to the surface again, but I couldn’t do that. I had Romina. My daughter needed someone to look after her and I made an oath to God that I would make her life paradise. I vowed to put a smile on her face and now I had to tell her that her mother was never coming back.
Defeated, I walked to my bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks when I found her spring-green eyes piercing me from the portrait on the wall. For six years, this painting was my lifeline, but now it was like her gracious face was mocking me, looking down at my pathetic self. After all, she was the goddess and I was the piteous man that was left behind. I felt an urge to rip the damned thing out of the frame and off my wall, but stopped myself. I should have done that years ago. What good would it do now?
Outside, the sky broke above New York, roaring in thunders and releasing a storm that was matched by the howl in my chest.
I threw off my clothes and put some random pajama bottoms on and laid on top of the bed covers. Six years ago, I’d wished for death to cure me from the pain, but now I was praying for strength to move forward and do good by my daughter.
Almost like she heard my thoughts about her, Romina showed up at my door, covered in her pretty and fluffy bathrobe over her pajamas. She stood there without moving for a second, making me think that maybe she was sleepwalking.
“Sweetheart?”
“I don’t like storms,” she simply said. “Mama lets me sleep with her when there are thunders. Can I sleep here?”
“Hop in.”
She nestled under my arm, like a kitten looking for warmth and I hugged her tight to my chest.
“I don’t like the sounds. It’s scary.”
“Yeah, it is, but you’re with me, Remy.” It was the first time I used her nickname. “Nothing could ever hurt you when you’re with me.”
“I…I want to say something, but I think it’s bad. Will you get mad?”
“No, never. You can tell me anything.”
“People are not so nice with kids. You’re nice to me.”
“Of course I am. Romina, I love you.”
