Short Stories | Sean x Kaycee

Hello; Bye

I don't know what title to put in this. I wrote this little something while I waited for my flight. Hope you bear with this.

Kaycee's POV

*****

What is the saddest place in the world?

They say it’s the hospital. One step inside and you absorb anxiety, uncertainty and despondency. You hear the cries of disbelief and loss. You see faces of shock, sorrow and unending waiting. Sure, there’s birth and hope, but when you hear the word hospital —it accompanies sadness and fear.

But for me, the saddest place would be the airport. I hate goodbyes, even if it is only a short amount of time. I can’t stand it.

I just realized that just a couple of years ago, despite the years of travelling, despite the times of you leaving.

I didn’t think of it too much before, because it means opportunities, adventure, lessons for you and me. I thought I would get used to it by now, but the gaping hole in my heart got deeper and wider as the days pass knowing you weren’t near me.

But I know I have to suck it in. Besides, everything is temporary.

And now, I couldn’t help  but feel hopeful as I crane my neck and stand on my toes as I look for you among the rush of the thickening crowd. I hate being trapped among people for too long, especially without your hand on the small of my back guiding me and your eyes looking back at me once in a while with that small smile on your lips. But no matter, I’ll be able to breathe again soon.

It wasn’t hard to spot you, what with that thick, unkempt, gorgeous jet-black hair of yours that you didn’t bother to cut again, and because you were sticking out due to your tall frame.

The moment we met eyes, a bittersweet feeling spread throughout my chest and it takes all my will not to run to you like a crazed woman. A sad smile etched on your lips, your eyes now watering. You’re not one to cry, but I guess we’re now similar in a way; we hate being away for too long.

Your arm looped around her waist and whispered to her ear —“baby” as I read your lips — alerting her of my arrival, and she quickly turned, a beautiful smile spreading on her lips. A tall guy then took his place beside you now, coming from God knows where, a lopsided smile on, hands in his jacket pockets, as if he sensed that I am here.

When I was just a feet away, she launched herself at me and engulfed me in a tight hug.
“Mom!” she exclaimed. “Thank God, you're here! Caleb and dad have been bullying me nonstop! Imagine, three months of too much testosterone at home!”

A choked laugh escaped from my lips as I hugged her back, and I saw you roll your eyes good-naturedly while Caleb  managed a scowl.

“Wow,” Caleb said dryly. “Guess who got caught making out with a guy with her top off in her room.”

My face mirrored my 17-year-old daughter’s expression —dropped jaw and pink face – looking at her twin brother in disbelief. I looked at you, and you got your fingers pressed on the bridge of your nose, indicating the stress coming up along with the brewing catfight between our kids.

“Yeah, mom. Dad almost got that special meat knife he got from Japan to –”

“Caleb!” she almost shrieked. “We talked about this! This was supposed to be a secret! Why are you so petty?” she turned to me, beautiful face guilty, but her eyes were determined. “Caleb brought a girl home last night. I can hear them moaning in his room –”