Thirty-Six
Thirty-Six
Sunday
Ellie wakes up on her parents’ couch, the condo and world outside it still dark. On the far end of the sectional, Jonah sleeps soundly. Across from them, the muted television—the one they fell asleep watching together—is still tuned to the Game Show Network, where a handsomely dressed Richard Dawson, apparently preserved in time, continues to strut around on set.
“You’re awake,” Bunny observes when Ellie steps into the kitchen. She’s seated, just as Ellie knew she would be, at the table, her light hair tousled from sleep. Nearby, the coffeepot already sputters out the morning brew.
“I can never sleep on days when I know I have to travel,” Ellie explains.
Bunny, dressed in her Florida-inspired bathrobe, stands and pours them each a steaming mug. “Why did you two sleep on the couch? Why is Maggie in the front room?”
“She’s slept on a bad dorm mattress for months.” Ellie shrugs. “She needs her rest.”
Bunny sets the mugs on the table, reclaims her seat. “There’s a storm back at home,” she explains, the bearer of happy morning headlines. “You’ll be flying right into it.”
Ellie sits, too. “We’ll be all right, Mom.” She pours a splash of white cream into her black coffee. “I’m sure that, at some point, we’ve flown through worse.”
Beyond Bunny, Ellie can see through the window that the sun is rising. Strokes of yellow—determined to bring about this new day—begin to wash out the charcoal of night.
“I had a terrible feeling when you told me the three of you were coming,” Bunny admits. She holds up her mug, takes a sip. “I don’t know why, but I kept thinking you had bad news.”
“And now?” Ellie asks.
Bunny sets down her mug. “I suppose even a mother’s intuition is wrong sometimes.”
In the living room, the sounds of hushed morning voices. Frank and Jonah are awake.
“When do you think the three of you will be back?” Bunny asks, her words outlined with a sense of sadness.
“Soon, Mom,” Ellie reassures her. “Once Maggie gets home and settled in a few weeks, and we start to figure out her next steps, we’ll make a plan. Okay?”
Bunny nods her agreement. “Okay.”
Beyond the glass, the blackness in the sky is almost fully washed out with new light.
“You doing okay, Mom?” Ellie asks. “Are you and Dad all right?”
Bunny pulls her bathrobe tighter around her aging body. She tilts her head, briefly considering what she’d like to say next. “We’re fine, sweetie,” she tells her daughter. “Our life here is everything we’ve always wanted,” she says and then gently touches her cross necklace. “Except for one thing.”
“What’s that?” Ellie hesitantly asks, not entirely sure she wants to know.
Bunny locks eyes with her daughter. “I miss you terribly,” she admits.
Ellie reaches her hand across the table and squeezes her mother’s aging fingers. “I miss you, too, Mom,” she tells her. “But I know you and Dad are exactly where you’re meant to be.”
Their car—and their same old driver—arrives exactly on time. Their bags packed, the Baker family steps back outside and into the swampy heat. Jonah loads their luggage into the trunk right before they all say goodbye.
Once Jonah and Maggie are in the air-conditioned car, Ellie steals one last private moment with her parents.
“Thank you both for everything,” she says, even though they could never possibly understand all that she means. “Really.” She pulls them both close to her for an embrace. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Ellie slides into the back seat beside Maggie and closes her door. Her seat belt not even on yet, their driver is already throwing the gearshift into reverse.
“Everyone okay back there?” Jonah asks from the front seat, just like always, and pulls his sunglasses onto his face.
Maggie dips her head onto her mother’s shoulder. Ellie turns and looks through the rear windshield. Her parents, dressed in their colorful, tropical retirement wear, stand side by side and wave as Bunny makes the sign of the cross—a prayer, or a wish, before her family leaves.
“We’re fine,” Ellie says, and this time, she means it. She swivels back around to face forward, clicks her seat belt into place. “Everyone is fine.”