46

Francesca

I

leave for the airport this morning, and no one woke to say goodbye. I’m used to it by now. My siblings are busy with their own lives, and I’m ok with that. It would just be nice

for my mom to say goodbye before I leave, but she doesn’t even make the effort to come down and see me off.

I think back to a few days ago when I saw Franco hit her. I still haven’t asked her about it. I want to make sure she’s ok, but I keep holding back. It’s cowardice. I just don’t know how to talk to my mother.

I say a quiet goodbye to the house before meeting George outside. He’s driving me to the airport. “Ready to go, Francesca?”

“I am, George.”

He puts my bag away for me. “You know, I’m going to miss you.”

“It’s too bad you can’t come with me, but you have your family here to be with.”

We both get into the car and head for the airport. New York in the early morning hours is at its quietest, even though the occasional horn and roar of a garbage truck can be heard. The snow makes everything
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