Intellect

Airport (2)

Violetta

"She's going."

"No she's not."

The arguments I've grown to admire carry through one ear and out the other like white noise. The thick, hot summer air doesn't seem to lessen and neither does the hot rays that hit my back as I watch my mother and father claw each other with their words.

"She's 20 years old for god's sake Dan. She's finished her first year of university. This will be good for her."

"Oh, and you know what's good for her and I don't?" Sweat was glistening on my father's bald head, causing his oval shaped scalp to look as if it was a new polished shoe, or maybe an Easter Egg. I wasn't sure if his sweat glands were working so heavily to cool down his body, was from the blazing heat of June or the anger my mother fuels inside of him. My dad has strange mannerisms; sweating being one of them.

"I've already paid for the trip and if you think my work place is going to give me back $8,000 because my ex husband is 'comfortable'-" Yes my mother did just use hand quotes, "Then you are even crazier then I imagined."

Even though I'd never accompany my mother to 'Take Your Kid To Work Day' doesn't mean her job doesn't have any perks. She's a travel agent, which means that her blue and silver Air Miles card is filled with points that can be used.

"Jeanine, you are not seeing the point. You are going to let your depressed daughter-" I'm not depressed, "Run around the world with a travel buddy that we haven't even met?"

"I trust my work!"

"The same work that made you work on Christmas."

"Dan give it a rest, that was years ago!"

It was like I wasn't there. My eyes weren't watching their argument, my mind wasn't racing with irrelevant, and relevant thoughts, and every nerve and cell in my body wasn't working profusely to keep my heart and lungs beating. It was like I had disappear, and often I wouldn't make myself known, but due to the circumstances, and my need to leave this small suburb on the crest of New York City, I had too.

"I'm going to be late for my flight." My bags were all set and like mother I wasn't getting any younger, and my flight wasn't going to wait around for my ass.

"Shit, fine." My mother would usually scorn my father for his use of 'inappropriate words' but I guess this was an exception.

"Okay, okay, I put pepper spray in your carry on and all you have to do is press 3 to call me."

"Okay dad." I'd usually call him father, but like his cursing, this was an exception.

"Your phone also has a world wide plan so if you ever need anything I can-"

"I know fa- dad." The work still feels awkward on my tongue.

"I love you, I love you, I love you." Maybe this is why in my two decades of breathing I've never had a boyfriend. 'Clingyness' just isn't my thing.

"Yep, bye Dad." And also because I am brutally bad at goodbyes, and even worse at showing affections. As he hugged me tightly against his chest my senses were filled with the smells of sweat and aftershave. Two smells that weren't very complimentary.

"Bye sweet pea." I was hoping in adult hood the pet names would come to a definite halt, but my father is like a hoarder, he doesn't let shit go. That's just another reason why my mother is no longer Ms. Jeanine Humperbarrel, but I'd like to think the main reason is due to the name. Humperbarrel. Gladly my mother had some decency at birth and labeled me as Violetta Ducane, that's her maiden name. I mean, it is better then Humperbarrel.