taking chances [abandoned]

[ three ] - beginnings

When my mom drives me to the airport, we’re already running late. It’s probably because she left me to my own devices to pack and I forget things - important things, like my swimsuit top and tampons and my phone’s charging cord. 

So we pull into the parking lot and I grab my bag. It’s a large rolling duffel bag and it’s about three-quarters of the way full because I want to buy souvenirs. I’ve also got my carry-on all packed with all the things I need to do on the plane and in London as well because I think we’re getting there sometime around lunch if the plane isn’t delayed. Or we’re allowing time for the plane to be delayed. I don’t know. 

My mom rolls the duffle bag into the boardroom we’re supposed to meet in; it’s tiny, for the number of people here, and there are families and friends who’ve come along as well. I don’t have friends here, but my family - six extra people - could very well qualify for two. 

“So this is it,” Marilyn says, and she looks around at the packed room. “You’re actually doing this. I’m so jealous.”

“Yeah,” I say. I’m kind of dazed, to be honest. I hadn’t even thought of being fully packed until after midnight last night, which is probably why I’m so tired and forgot to pack everything. “This is … wow.”

Audrey taps me on the shoulder. “You’ve gotta send me pictures. Like, take pictures with your phone everywhere you go too.”

“I’ll miss you,” Isaac says, hands in his pockets and kicking at the floor, which is a very intense show of emotion for a teenage boy like Isaac to make. 

Leo’s the complete opposite of Isaac. He’s clearly got tears in his eyes but he’s struggling not to show them. I reach out and hug him, and before we know we’re all gathered in a giant group hug around me and I want to remind my family I hate hugs but I won’t see them in person for over three months and I don’t have the heart to. 

An Indian woman in her mid thirties with a Hello, My Name Is Emma sticker approaches us. "You must be Elle."

"Yeah." I reach out to shake her hand. "I hope you weren't waiting too long for me."

"No, no." She laughs. "We were going to start at five-thirty anyways." She looks at the mass of people behind me: Mom, Aurelia and Audrey, and then Isaac and Leo, the identical ones, and then her eyes travel to Marilyn, who looks more like me than anyone else - everyone else takes after Mom, and I look more like Dad, with my hair being a few shades lighter than everyone else's dark brown, my eyes a light hazel, but I still have Mom's Asian eyes and full lips. Genes favoured the Chinese side of the family, but worked to make me different - what else is new?

"Yeah, this is my family," I say, bluntly. "No one's adopted." People never really believe my mother can have six kids; she radiates the kind of power one doesn't associate with motherhood.

"Elle," my mother says sternly, but not angrily. 

"Alright." Emma guides my mother over to the table, talking about consent forms and shit like that. Me, I'm left to soak up the last few minutes with my siblings.

Marilyn fumbles in her pocket and hands me a folded piece of paper. "Don't read this now," she tells me. "Read it if you're not feeling good on the trip."

"Thanks," I say, taking it. 

"And we bought you this," Marilyn continues. She hands me a present wrapped in last Saturday's newspaper. "Open it on the plane, or when you have time to. I think you really need it."

"Thanks," I say again. I tuck the note into my pocket and put the wrapped present into my backpack. "I'll miss you guys. Text and email and all that shit, all right?"