Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

3

        I make the decision to go to Rio the night before my flight is scheduled, when I am comfily nestled under a cocoon of quilts, scavenging through previously stored photos of Manuel and I. My decision is impulsive, but the best of life's decisions are—or so I tell myself.

The next day, Mom and I head for the airport in her battered Aston Martin, with heavy droplets of rain acutely coursing down the windshield. The wipers are relentlessly swishing back and forth in a vain attempt to get rid of the rainwater, sadly obscuring my view of the road as I am sprawled out on the back seat of the car, tentatively drumming my fingers along with the rhythm of the rain.

In a little less than an hour, I will already be on the plane to Rio, unable to back out on my decision. If I don't want to go, now is my chance to admit it.

But I don't.

"No drinking, no smoking, and absolutely no drugs," Mama warns, her green eyes boring into mine through the rearview mirror. I notice her grip on the steering wheel tighten until her knuckles deem white. "Don't do anything that you'll regret, liebe."

I nod.

And for the rest of the car ride, not a single word is uttered. There is only the exchanging of silence, anxious and thick, which heavily lingers in the bittersweet air. Not knowing what else to do, I occupy myself by placing my eyes on a certain spot on one of Mama's windows, counting the raindrops that swish down, eyeing them one by one as Mama drives forward.

When we reach the airport, Mama does absolutely nothing to prevent tears from trickling down her cheeks. When we reach my terminal, she protectively envelopes me into her arms. "Oh, Azelie, I am going to miss you so much," she murmurs.

"I'm going to miss you too, Mama," I say truthfully.

My mother pulls apart from me.

"I'll call you every night," I assure. "No worries."

Mama nods curtly. "You have to, Herzchen. Or else I will."

After doing my own share of nodding, I look away. "So, I guess I'm off then."

"I love you," Mom murmurs mellowfully.

"I love you too," I say.

Mama hugs me again, and then, just like that, I am gone.

 ☁

        I arrive at Rio a little over thirteen hours later, at a time when, in the glowing horizon, the sun is softly beginning to set. As anticipated, Manu's mother is waiting for me at my terminal, her dark hair pulled into a sleek bun. The woman greets me with a curt wave. "Azelie!"

Smothering a smile onto my face, I make my way over to her. "Marija!" As soon as I reach her, we lapse into a moment's hug. As we pull away, I say, "It's great to see you."

"It's great to see you too, Azelie!" Marija exclaims, reaching for my suitcase. With ease, she takes it into her own arms. "So, how was the flight?" she queries, walking the two of us out of the terminal. "The food—was it all okay? You're not too hungry, are you?"

I laugh. "Everything was okay, Marija," I assure, "Don't worry about it."

Marija's blue eyes meet mine, lingering for a fleeting moment before she says aloud, "Oh, liebe, you have no idea how happy I am to see you here."

I tell her that I am happy to see her too. Because of course, I am.

It has been a little more than eternity since we've last glazed out eyes over one another, and as Marija and I saunter over to her car, I see how drastically a nine years has affected her. Marija's hair, which used to be the most eloquent shade of brown, is now beginning to fade into a soft gray on the edges, a blemish that I hadn't been able to identify through our virtual conversations. In addition, the spot beside her eyes, which used to be inexplicably smooth, are now wrinkled.