Our European Hottie Story

Chapter 5: A Humble Little Thing

Chapter 5: A Humble Little Thing

It'd been a month since my mother finally cut me loose when I found myself printing airline tickets to the one continent my heart had been set on for quite a while: Europe. Yes, Europe, a world of sophisticated culture, amazing wine, and the finest men the world had to offer. Or so I'd been told. As soon as my heart was as sure as my head about the trip, and my bank account was healthy enough to agree with my decision, I hopped onto my laptop and booked a one-way flight to Ireland. I thought it would be an interesting place to start at the time. I wasn't quite sure why; it was a gut feeling.

I'd told my mother about my trip. She, of course, tried to change my mind as kindly and subtly as possible. But she raised a quick child; I caught on and made it clear that I was certain about this. She let it go more quickly than I expected. "So you're telling me I only have my baby girl for one more week?" she had said with a small smile. I could sense the hint of sadness behind it. I understood where it was coming from; it must be painful having to let your child go. But I nodded and told her not to worry about it; I'd still be around and helping with the bakery until then. "I hope you don't mind me robbing the tip jar for spending money," I joked with her.

The day of my trip came in the blink of an eye. My mother's physical and emotional exhaustion was too obvious on her face to be healthy. She'd stayed up all night to help me pack despite the number of times I attempted to persuade her to go to bed. My mother was as stubborn as I, this knew, so I stopped fighting her halfway through the packing process. Now here she was, sleepless but supportive, stalling my trip as much as possible.

"Mama, I need to go," I said to her as she squeezed me tight in an endless hug. I was still fairly early; my flight wasn't until twelve-forty-five p.m., but my mother insisted on getting me to the airport by twelve. It was currently twelve-twenty-two, however, which brought me to the realization that my mother was going to push as close to the limit as possible.

"Okay, just five more minutes," she pleaded. "Or days. Whichever comes last."

"Mama," I whined. I noticed more and more people were starting to look at us.

"Alright, alright. I'm letting go." She released me, finally, and looked me up and down. She smirked. "When'd you get so tall?" she said. I was her height now, and neither of us really took that in until this moment.

I shrugged. "You fed me well," I replied. I studied my mother's face. Age was wrinkling her skin more and more by the day. And the white in her hair wasn't flour anymore. It was natural, and it weaved into the dark locks she had tied back into a bun. And when I looked into her eyes, I saw the tears welling up and glossing them. My heart truly broke. I hadn't seen her like that in a long time. I smiled weakly, feeling the pain deep in my chest begin to grow. "I gotta go, Mama. My, um...my flight..."

My struggle to find words stretched her smile a bit wider. "I know," she said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a white envelope with my name on it. "I got a couple of things to give you first." She patted her pockets down, her face displaying confusion for a split second before she found whatever it was in her back pocket. She held a necklace out for me to take.

I studied the beautiful silver charm on the end of it: a little four-leaf clover that glinted with the occasional bit of light that hit it as it swayed. So simple, but it couldn't be more beautiful to me. I held it gently by the charm, pooling the sterling-silver chain in my palm, and ran my thumb across its smooth surface.

"A good luck charm for your travels. Been blessing it every night for the past week."

I undid the clasp and put the necklace on, letting it rest just below my collarbone. I held the clover between my fingers. "What's in the envelope?" I eyed it, waiting eagerly for her to reveal my second gift.

She handed it to me. "That one I'm gonna need you to be careful with."

My curiosity piqued, I looked inside. The contents dropped my jaw upon first sight. It was a fat wad of cash, and I noticed a lot of hundreds in it. "What is this?" I asked her, shocked.

"Spending money." She told me so matter-of-factly, as if she only spotted me a couple of tens. "There's no use going to a foreign country and not getting yourself a souvenir or two." Not to mention I'll be expecting a gift." She emphasized the word as though I hadn't thought of that already.

I shook my head. "No, Mama. I can't. The Bakery...the bills..."

"Will be taken care of. You think I'm just gonna fish out a couple grand before checking? Are you crazy?" She planted her hands on her hips. She knew she taught me better.

I stared at her, still unsure. It was a struggle getting a couple of bucks for the bookstore out of her. How else was I supposed to react when she whipped out a couple grand for "spending money"? But I didn't argue with her about it. If I did, I'd never leave the country. "Thanks, Mama." I swung my back pack around to the front.

She helped me store it deep in the bag and zipped it shut. She let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. That's it."

The weight of the moment finally sat down on my shoulders. Freedom was as incredible as its cost. I had to leave my mother; I had ten minutes to get to the gate. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Mama," I said, forcing a smile.

She did the same. "Bye, Jaqueline."

I parted with her, finally. It was agonizing, but it had to be done. She was in tears, as was I, and I didn't stop looking back at her until we were both out of each other's sights. I made my way through metal detectors, baggage checks, more metal detectors. The amount of security in the airport really did surprise me. But, in the end, it was worth it. I made it to the gate just as they were boarding, and I was one of the first coach passengers to get on. The plane took off about half an hour after that, but my heart took a bit longer than that to join me.

The man next to me offered his pretzels. In the few minutes that followed, I learned his name was Michael, he was thirty-eight years old, and he was on his way to visit some friends he hadn't seen in a while. He was a sweetheart with messy brown hair, the most beautiful and soft eyes, and a charming smile that stretched wide across his face every now and then. I blushed like the innocent and humble little thing I could be.

Notice how I say "could".

He was a gorgeous man with a long, well-built body and strong hands, and this was going to be a long flight. So I took him to the lavatory farthest back and had my way with him until the flight attendant had to check on us...four times.

He learned it's the humble ones you need to look out for.