Yellow Blue

Chapter 2- The Novaks

It is around 3:30 AM when we leave the house and drive to the airport, it isn't that far from our home so we don't need to drive long, which makes it all the more nerve-wracking. Andrea left two weeks ago to Cambridge, dad's home city where she's currently studying medicine, so in the car, it's only me and Jordana in the back, mom as calm and collected as always, in the front with our dad who is driving. For some reason, I thought Mom would be different today, that maybe she would smile genuinely and like a mom, not deceivingly like her well-prepped, usual self. But no, not a twitch in her oval sapphire eyes, not a bite in her thin glossy lips, or fiddle with her blood-colored cat nails, nothing. She was perfect like every morning. I used to wish to find my mom in the kitchen making us breakfast, not behind the screen on TV plastering a smile for strangers instead of us.
Dad, however, isn't perfect. His hands would tighten and loosen on the steering wheel and I'd catch him looking up at me through the mirror. I look like him. He has a diamond-shaped face with a strong hairline. Our eyebrows and eyes match too, thick and wild and almost as dark as our hair. His lips are plumper while mine is awkward. The top lip is larger than the lower and I'd often think that I look like a penguin or some form of a bird. Quack. No one likes a duck when they can have a swan.
We make it to the airport. I have about two and a half hours, but my paranoia has started to crawl up my chest. My entire body seems drained of blood, Jordana notices and jokingly pinches my cheeks but I, annoyed, swat her hand away. Her other hand is holding mine. Many people don't have the greatest relationship with their siblings but I am fortunate enough to have my sister as my best friend. In school, I didn't have that many real friends and hung out only with my sister, so it felt like all I was losing was my sister. My mom was never there and my dad will see me a couple of times in Kyiv since he has business partners there, so the hardest part is letting go of Jordana's tan hand that looks even tanner next to my snowy hand. We won't see each other until Easter, that's almost a decade away!
Dad hands back my khaki backpack that was covered with film-related badges as well as my suitcase and straightens up, trying to look taller than he already is, sucking in an unsteady breath. If there's anything I didn't get from my parents, it's their height, the three of them tower over me while I stand in my humble height of 1 meter and 55 centimeters.
I throw the backpack over my Hawaiian shirt. I could hear mum cringe in her mind and remind me that I look like a clown and that I should've done something with my hair or face to look half decent for my new family. Although, as strange as it was, she didn't say anything and her eyes didn't squint from disgust. Mother, you manage to surprise me.
Jordana is the first to say goodbye. Her face crumples and little streams come pouring out of eyes that resemble too much like my mother's. She locks her arms over my neck and my head falls on her curly blonde hair that smells like my shampoo that she stole because there is not one thing that I possess that she hasn't stolen. She lets go just as fast as she embraced me. Jordana jumps on her toes a couple of times before running away to the car. Mother's forehead raises slightly raising her eyebrow and then falls into the same position as it once was. Dad hugs me and whispers in English, "do me proud, kiddo," whatever that means. I'm still shivering when he walks away, actually walks away, leaving The Wicked Witch Of The West alone with me. Our heads turn from the direction of our dad at the same time it's almost eerie. She takes in a long deep breath before saying,

"Are you excited?" Jeez, mom, I won't see you for more than half a year and this is all you have to say?

"Mostly nervous that they won't let me through," I force a laugh that's mostly air and a confused smile. She almost smiles. "But yeah, I'm excited," at this point I don't know who I'm trying to fool more, me or her.
Her long nose looks straight onward while her eyes look down in my direction when she says, "good...And... I wish you the best of luck, call us when you'll get there," I nod back to her.
And then my mother does something strange that's almost foreign to me. She raises her arms out as though a big box was between them, and awkwardly, in an alien manner, hugs me. It's distant and more strange than cold, but it's still her hug. I let go, and they leave me first before I can leave them.