Discovered

Chapter 7: Sleeping Drew

From dropping off my homework to my teachers, sending the excuse note to the school office, and to driving to the airport, things were slowly getting on track. We showed our tickets and passports, we had our suitcases scanned for anything dangerous, and we sat patiently on the waiting chairs until it was time for us go to the airplane.

The bright blinding light overwhelmed my eyes as I started to walk. The tiles on the floor were like glass as the white circles appeared out of nowhere. The airport was a bit larger than the last one Dad and I went to get to Cuba. In front of the chairs is a long table with magazines and newspapers.

People came back and forth, like pinball machines. Behind me was a long line of people who are waiting for the receptionist to take their plane tickets. Across from me was a conveyer belt filled with all the luggage that you can carry, large and small to be exact.

The walls were in a brownish gray color, and it gave off a very foul odor of paint and something rotten. Time to go, I thought to myself as I trailed after my parents and uncle. As we and the rest of the passengers boarded the plane to Harlem, I held onto my knapsack while I stuffed my luggage into the compartment then sat down next to my father.

Adrenaline shocked the plane as it lifted over fifty feet. As usual, Dad was clenching his teeth and rubbing his eyes. I slowly reached for his hand and clutched it tightly. While Dad was holding onto my hand, Mom and Uncle Seth were sitting behind me, watching the view.

My mind traced back to the memory of my grandmother as she helped me make her famous chocolate chip cake. I never knew exactly what the cake was for. I just thought that she wanted to do something special for my visit.

As soon as Mom arrived in the house, Grandma asked her something in a hushed voice about Grandpa. I know this because every time they mention Grandpa, they keep their voices low and quiet.

But since I was very curious, I wanted to join in the conversation. "Is Grandpa here?" I asked hopefully, mixing the batter. "If he is, can I meet him?"

Mom and Grandma looked at each other nervously then back at me. "No, Cleo." Grandma answered. "He is just working at his job." I dropped the mixing spoon in tbe bowl then gazed at them. "Does he work for the CIA, like Mom?" I asked.

Mom shook her head then touched my cheek. Suddenly, I was confused. "Where's Grandpa?" I asked. "Does he hate me?" Mom began to crouch down then looked at my eyes. "Sweetie," she sighed. "Your grandfather doesn't hate you, at all."

"Then why don't I ever see him?" I asked. Mom sighed then rested her lips on my cheek. "Your grandfather is working late as usual," Grandma replied with a smile. "I promise you, as soon as he gets back, you will get to meet him."

"Cool," I beamed. Mom patted my head gently then resumed helping me make the cake. Just then, I felt someone tapping on my shoulder as Dad looked at me with sad eyes. "Are you thinking about your grandmother?"

Instead of answering, I nodded. Dad wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me tight. "You know you can talk to me about this, okay?" he whispered. "Yeah," I nodded, inhaling his black sweater. It smelled like stale oranges and man spray.

"Cleo?" Dad began. He turned his face towards me then smiled. "Yes?" I asked. A smirk crept on his lips. "Do you remember when you were four or five years old," he explained. "You played chess with me?"

I nodded very politely. "We did it whenever you were on your lunch break, right?" I asked. "At Liberty Park," Dad continued, nodding at my response. "I remembered you beating me at it, just like your mother."

"You even beated the senior citizens, experienced chess players, and pretty much everyone." I blushed fiercely at that memory. "That's not surprising," Mom chuckled behind me.

"She's Irene, just like me." "I always took you to the park," Dad laughed. "We laughed and ate hot dogs at the tables." I laughed along with him. "When I finish solving the case," I said. "Maybe we could play chess again."

He slipped through my hair then kissed me gently on the nose. "Sure," Dad answered. When the sun came down,  I felt my eyes getting droopy. The flight attendant was walking up and down the aisle, filling the passengers' orders.

Sensing my thoughts, Mom took off her black woolen coat and passed it over to me. I took the coat gratefully then wrapped it over my shoulders. "Thanks Mom," I mumbled. She nodded as Dad stroked his fingers against my cheek.

Looking around, I saw Uncle Seth, now perfectly shaved, was resting against his chair comfortably. With sleeping bodies resting, I wasn't surprised no one has his or her eye open.

Seeing my sleepy eyes, Mom asked if she can sing me something. "Sure," I answered. She leaned over my chair then sang Unforgettable from Nat King Cole. Smiling, Dad quietly joined in.

It was the same song Mom listened to when she was a child. Later, she claimed that she even sang it to me while I was in my crib. With beautiful lyrics pouring out of her lips, it was no wonder where she get her nickname from.

I let my eyes blink one last time then closed them for the time being. As soon as the singing stopped, I felt the bristled hairs of Dad's arm brushing against my cheek. "I love you, my Baby Angel." I heard Mom whisper.

I wanted to say, I love you back, but a quiet snore jumbled my words. Later, I dreamt that I was in Grandma's house, but this time I was fully grown teenager. The room never changed: the creamy yellow paint bathed on the walls, the table had a white frilled tablecloth.

The wooden floor laid firmly under my feet.  Just then, Grandma appeared out of nowhere, holding a plate of steaming chocolate chip cake.