Arrival

"Arriving half drunk in a foreign place is hard on the nerves." --Hunter S. Thompson, The Rum Diary

Cherie read the line over again on the plane.  Her mother was sleeping beside her, her little brother, Kai was playing on his phone.  Her mom had only two gins so far and her head was resting on her daughter's shoulder.  Cherie thought that arriving sober would be just as hard on her mother.   Everything seemed hard on her, though no stranger would see through Marguerite's beautiful smile.  Always poised, even drunk.  Even heartbroken.  She understood her mother's need to leave California, though she resented her for taking her from her only home.

 Trading Malibu for the flat, mosquito-infested swamp they were running to seemed like a punishment.  A punishment none of them deserved.  The flight attendants rattled their cart past them.  Cherie got Kai's attention to see if he wanted a Sprite and prayed the cart wouldn't wake their mother.  Sleep was a rarity for her now.  Cherie deftly took the drinks without moving her left shoulder.  She was becoming skilled in moving without notice, without really moving at all.

By the time the ding sounded, indicating they were beginning their descent and to fasten their seat belts, Marguerite was wide awake and stone cold sober.  Kai was whining that he had to go pee. And Cherie just wanted to hide in her room.  At this point, she didn't care where it was.

Where it ended up being was in one of those newly constructed, but mostly empty condos on the beach.    Top floor, penthouse suite.  Complete with marble floors and grand piano.  Crystal chandeliers everywhere, even the tubs.  Of course, this was nothing new.  It was, in fact, a mere shadow of their old house, tucked away in a little neighborhood that made Bel-Air look like Allentown.

Kai pushed past his mother and sister, running through the unit to decide which room would be his.  Cherie just stood there, hand on her luggage, looking out the window at the placid gulf sunset.  Marguerite walked to the piano, caressed the keys with her fingertips for a moment.  She turned to her eldest with a questioning gaze What do you think? Will this work?

Cherie shrugged, smiled at her mother, and said, "Welcome home."

Marguerite's sad smile jarred all the snark out of Cherie.  She put her hand to her cheek as though she'd been dealt a blow and rushed to her mother, kissing her cheek and throwing her arms around her.  "It's beautiful!"  Marguerite uncharacteristically melted into her daughter's embrace. Cherie let out an exhale and stroked her mother's head, noting how small and fragile it seemed.   Her mother is such an indestructible force, who exudes the kind of energy that compels anyone in her wake to take note, that Cherie sometimes forgets that she is just a woman, that not too long ago, she too was just a girl.