Sugar. (H.S.)

flight.

"You were supposed to go to Berkeley."

This is the only thing Poppy has said for the past 30 minutes on our drive to the San Fransisco Airport.

"You do realize that's only an hour away from Woodside right?" She grumbles again.

"Penelope that's enough." My mother scolds harshly. Poppy scrunches her nose and rolls her eyes at the use of her full name. She turns to glare angrily out the window. My mothers knuckles are white from clenching the steering wheel so tightly and her perfectly manicured nails look like claws in their tense state. Her mouth is pressed into a hard line, but this is normal, and her sunglasses hide the rest of her face so I can't tell how upset she really is. This is the first time she's spoken since we left the house, which is a very rare occasion.

I don't have the heart to tell Poppy she is wrong. Berkley was never my choice, for the exact reason that it was only an hour away. Too close. Much much too close. Berkley was my mothers choice. Berkley was everyone else's choice.

Instead I chose London. More specifically, Kings College.

I was over the moon when I received the acceptance letter in the post. I had already decided that this was going to solve every problem. The hitch in my brilliant plan, was of course, my mother. Despite the fact that she was wildly overbearing, and of course somehow impossibly frigid, we didn't fight much. But my god did we fight after that letter. I hid in my room for two weeks after, trying to come up with an argument that could change her mind. I didn't think there was a single one she would listen too.

Eventually she did though. I think it might have been Lucy, or even Benjamin, my two favorite members of our staff. I don't know how they did it, but they managed to sway her opinion, and she relented.

"We're here." My mother announces, her composure regained, pulling my subconscious with hers back into reality as she tucks into a parking stall. "Poppy, fetch your sisters bags for her please."

"I can do it." I tell my mother, unbuckling my seatbelt. Poppy lets out a dramatic sob from the backseat. Although Lucy and Ben were pleased for me, the same couldn't be said for Poppy.

My mother sighs and opens the car door, stepping out into the sun without a backwards glance. I twist in my seat to face my baby sister, her face hidden in the crook of her arm and her shiny blonde hair sprawled across the leather seats. I frown at her state of emotional crisis. Doubt weighs heavy on the back of my mind, because I know there is realistically no way I can protect her from over five thousand miles away.

Not that she really needs it. She grew up faster than she needed too, but she accepted the burden anyway, willingly. 

"It's going to be alright Poppy. I'll call every day." I whisper to her, reaching back to pull on her arm. She sobs dramatically again. "Come on. I'm not dying P. I'll come back to visit."

"Promise?" She peaks up at me warily, sniffling once. Her innocence is almost unsettling. She embodies everything one would expect of a California girl. Smooth, sun kissed skin, beautiful big blue eyes, that stunning golden blonde hair.

"Of course. Now get up and let's go before mom really gets mad." I twist back around in my seat and click open the car door as Poppy sighs shakily behind me, defeated, shuffling in her seat as she tries to rectify her unruly hair. We both know I wasn't being serious. Our mother didn't have the emotional capacity to be angry.

"I've got that." I say as I round the back of the car, helping my mother pull my overly large suitcase out of the trunk.

"I knew I should have insisted Benjamin come with us. I hate that drive. Now I'm all shaken up." My mother reprimands me, frowning at me like every inconvenience that happened today was my fault. Technically I was the one who told Ben to stay home today, sure that Poppy and I could handle our mother for a few hours at best. It was a parting gift to him. I'm sure he was more than grateful. But how was I supposed to know there was going to be a pile-up five minutes onto the I-280?

I ignore the comment and dislodge my suitcase from the trunk. Poppy joins us and I drag my suitcase towards the airport, the two of them following closely behind.

"Can we stop at the mall after?" Poppy asks.

"I would really just prefer to go home Poppy." My mothers voice is smooth and although she doesn't come right out with it, it's her way of saying no.

"Please? I'm going to need some therapy shopping. I can drive!"

"No. You can't." I scold Poppy. "You haven't gotten your learners yet."

"Yeah and I'm never going to get it if I don't have a chance to practice!"

"Ask Ben to help. He helped me."

My mother scowls at me.

"That's the reason why you get your learners Poppy. So you can practice. They don't expect you to be perfect. You're not allowed to drive yet. I don't want to fight about this." My mother says and Poppy frowns deeply but doesn't push it. She's not used to not getting her way. Nobody can deny Poppy anything.

I hand my passport and flight confirmation to the woman sitting at the front desk. She weighs my bags and then hands me my ticket.

We quietly make our way through the security line. I dread every click of my mothers shoes, every sideways glance from Poppy, every snag from the wheels on my suitcase. I know my minutes here are numbered. We reach the gate in what feels like a millisecond and there is no time left to delay our goodbyes.

I turn to my mother first.

There's no hint of tears in her icy blue eyes, but I expected as much. I have still never seen her cry, and I didn't expect her to start now. She opens her arms to me and I embrace her.

"I wish dad were here." I whisper to her. It's a secret I would only be willing to admit to her. She stiffens minimally and I squeeze her tighter.

"He would be very proud of you Beatrice." She whispers back to me, her voice cool and relaxed. I release her.

I swallow back the lump in my throat and brace myself for Poppy's goodbye. She launches herself at me and buries her face into my shirt. I clutch her tightly to me and it takes everything I have not to cry.

No words come to me, so I pull her back and look at her face. She makes no attempt to stop the tears and they spill relentlessly down her cheeks. I can tell, just underneath her sadness at our goodbyes, that she's anxious. And I know she isn't nervous for herself. Poppy has been the only person to regulate me. She's the one who knows if I stay in the bathroom for more than five minutes that she needs to come make me stop washing my hands for the third time in a row. She's the one who reminds me that no one will die if I don't put the sheets on my bed exactly right. She's the one who taught me to challenge my thoughts. She's the one who separates me as a person from everything the doctors said I was. I stroke her blonde hair before hugging her one last time.

"If you don't call me every day B, I swear to god." She warns me, half giggling through her tears at the attempted threat.

"Have I ever lied to you?" 

Poppy sniffs once. 

"Take care of her okay? Make sure she doesn't turn to stone while I'm gone." I whisper while Poppy laughs loudly, then chokes on a sob. 

"Penelope." My mother hisses. "We are in public. Compose yourself."

Poppy steps back and wipes her tears away before joining my mother and grasping her hand tightly. Take care of her! I want to scream at my mother. The thought of leaving Poppy alone is almost unbearable, but in reality it is probably my mother who needs to be taken care of the most. Or me. I give my ticket to the stewardess at the podium, who checks it quickly and then returns it to me, motioning me through the gate.

I turn around to wave goodbye one more time. Poppy waves back, hardly keeping it together, and I'm reminded of how similar her and my mother look. The resemblance is striking, uncanny even. They are practically spitting images of each other. I self consciously push my plain brown hair behind my shoulder, before I turn around and walk on the plane. 

Lifehouse-Flight