3. Nina
3
NINA
Once the plane is high in the air, I flick on my favorite movie: Roman Holiday .
I bite back my excitement the moment I spot Audrey Hepburn on the back of a moped. I thought it would bore me considering I’ve seen it a dozen times. But it’s been years and I’m as invested in the film as if it’s my first time. Even now, Audrey’s elegance inspires me.
Roman Holiday tames my anxiety and builds excitement for the trip ahead. Dad sprung this vacation on us a month ago, declaring everything had already been planned and booked. Being in the throes of finishing school, I couldn’t prepare the way I wanted. I need a few more months to be fluent enough in Maldanian!
Rather than stressing over integrating, I try to emanate Audrey’s grace. I can do what my heart desires and eat copious gelato and french fries. If I’m lucky, I’ll meet a hot Maldanian guy to show me around.
Yes, this is supposed to be a family vacation, but I’m reeling from a bad breakup and would cherish a distraction.
By the time Gregory Peck finishes walking down the never-ending corridor away from Princess Ann, I take my trazodone and snore my way through the free meals and snacks. Maia wakes me up when we start descending.
“How’s your back?” I ask, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes before holding my nose and blowing for my ears to pop.
“Not bad. Would’ve been worse if not for the pills.” She twists her spine, and I hear a few cracks. “I’m going to meditate for a bit.”
With her headphones on, she closes her eyes and takes steady, slow breaths. It took days to convince her to take pain pills for the flight; she prefers holistic and alternative medicine.
The overnight flight and time change puts us in Maldana’s late afternoon, and the fresh breeze is a relief after breathing in recycled air for nine hours. We deplane and walk outside with our luggage in tow. Up ahead, I spot a man in a suit holding a sign that says Laffley .
I stop in my tracks. “Dad, why?—?”
He smiles. “Nothing but the best for my girls on this trip.”
Maia cackles and runs to the man, handing over her bags without hesitation.
“It’s best not to argue,” Ruby says, nudging my arm. It’s good she mentions it because I have dozens of comments bubbling. How can he afford a professional car service? I expected us to be doing things the cheaper, smarter way: the metro, walking, stocking up at the grocery store, et cetera.
“Dad…,” I drawl.
“Neen, don’t,” he scolds lightheartedly as if I’m a kid again. “Don’t question it. Don’t argue it. Just smile, say thank you, and have the time of your life. You spent the last six years working your ass off.”
I sigh and quell my arguments; I’ve worked my ass off my entire life. My childhood consisted of telling him we couldn’t afford everything. He gets ahead of himself, and I’m always left picking up the pieces. I took care of him—of our family—more than he did.
Everything he’s done for us, he did because I reminded him.
Once the driver takes my luggage and I thank him, I unbraid my hair to distract myself from thoughts of the past. I’m no longer a child and I don’t have to look after anyone. I’m here in Maldana—a stunning country.
My gaze sticks to the outside as we’re driven through the condensed roads surrounding the airport. Palm trees line the streets and mountains curve against the horizon. The signs along the highway have more pictures than words, and the views are unremarkably beautiful. The trees and fields are run-of-the-mill by European standards, but I appreciate that I’m not in America. I lean my head on the window and try not to fall asleep. My eyes droop and exhaustion creeps in until the car jerks and my head thumps against the window.
“I avoid roadkill,” the driver says, his English broken and accent thick. “Sorry.”
I suppress a groan and rub the sore spot on my forehead. A few minutes later, the trees turn into buildings and the pavement turns into cobblestones. We pass under a sign that reads Kosita . I roll my window down for fresh air, only to get smacked in the face by the stench of cigarettes. I grimace and roll it back up. When approaching a roundabout, I perk at the statue in the center.
“Oh—Maia!” I blurt.
“What’d I do?” my sister asks.
I chuckle. “No, the statue. I did some reading on the culture, and that’s the Maldanian goddess of love. Her name is Maia.”
There’s very little I know about the history and culture of the country—a downfall of this trip being sprung on me while I was stressed over graduation, my ending internship, and my ending relationship.
My sister scoots closer to lean out the window. “Oooh, I’m named after a goddess?”
“Wanna know what’s weird? There’s a goddess called Antonia, too. Goddess of fertility or something.”
“So— my first name is Maia. Your middle name is Antonia. Both of whom are goddesses in Maldanian lore?”
“Yup.”
She looks at Dad seated in front of us. “Was our birth mom from here or something?”
My chest tightens at the blunt question. Even Dad tenses. Our birth mother has always been a taboo topic. I don’t remember her. To me, my mother is a blurry figure buried deep in my memories and a dark cloud that has haunted my father for two decades. My sister and I have always been scared to bring her up; we didn’t want to make him angry or sad. Then I got too busy taking care of him and Maia to be curious.
Dad doesn’t answer as awkward silence fills the expensive car. Ruby reaches over and takes his hand. Maia and I glance at one another, brows pulled.
“Ask him that tomorrow,” Ruby says. “He can give you an answer then.”
“What’s the—?” Maia cuts herself off, both of us too tired from the flight to argue. I want to laugh at such an ambiguous reply. It’s been twenty years.
At the hotel, I freeze in the lobby, my jaw slack. This is much too charming and expensive to be ours—and my sister and I have our own room . The receptionists greet us with mimosas and tora di pomke—slices of Maldanian-style apple pie. Its crust is flaky like a croissant and the inside is warm apple. I suppress a moan at the divine flavor.
“Welcome to your home away from home,” Ruby says, pushing open my bedroom door with her butt as she cradles a plate of dessert.
My eyes widen at the spacious room. “I…”
“Here, eat.” She pushes a whole tora di pomke into my mouth, knowing I want to argue her and Dad’s decisions. My words are muffled and filled with soft apples I can’t help devouring. While Maia’s balcony faces the front to overlook the city, mine faces the back to overlook the hills leading to the ocean—a perk of the country’s capital sitting on the coast. I stand on my balcony and let my concerns about costs slip away.
It’s Dad’s choice, and I don’t have to clean up his messes anymore.
After a hot shower, I put on a halter top covered with blue flowers and pair it with white linen pants. Thankfully my period ended the other day.
“Neen!” Maia calls.
“It’s open!”
My sister enters the bathroom as I gather my curls into a loose ponytail. Through the oval mirror lined with gilded designs, I notice her hair is wet and in a ballerina bun.
“You washed your hair?”
She grunts. “I had to. It was so knotty.”
I tsk. “That’s why you gotta braid it for flights.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She hops on the counter and surveys my outfit. “That’s cute. Are you almost ready? Ruby and Dad are downstairs waiting.”
I pull a few curls down to frame my face. “Yeah, just about. I was thinking we’d go to this place that’s near the town center. Only a ten-minute walk from here.”
Maia looks over her shoulder at her reflection. She fluffs up her eyelashes. “Dad actually said we’re going to a place called Dominik or something.”
“What?” I squeak. “What is up with him? He’s never planned anything in his life. Or at least as long as I’ve been alive.”
She slips off the counter and follows me into the bedroom. “I know, right? I don’t understand why he’s going all out for this trip.”
I pick up my blue cardigan. “You won’t be cold in that tonight?” I ask. Her green skirt reaches the floor and her tube top hugs her chest. “You can take one of my jackets.”
She lights up. “The green one?”
I shoot her a glare—she knows that’s my favorite one. My gaze rakes over her three necklaces and hands full of rings. “Fine. Just don’t let your jewelry get caught in it.”
A grin spreads across her face. “I promise!”