I used to love airports. The frenzied way people scurried to their gates and the excitement of what lay beyond the steel-tipped wings of the planes made me buzz with anticipation.

But now, staring down at my boots caked with the salt and silt of a winterized Boston, all I feel is dread that what the future holds are days without my mother.

As I run my thumbnail along the styrofoam of my Dunkin’ Donuts coffee, making small indentations, all I can think about are the goodbyes I’ve said this week. Most were casual because I didn’t want to talk about my mom, but having to hug Travis one last time nearly broke me in two.

“I’ll come out over spring break,” he mumbled into my hair last night as he hugged me once more. “I bet Zinzer will give you your job back in the fall when you come back.” Nodding, I tried to smile even though I couldn’t say whether I’ll ever return to Boston. It feels tainted now.

I packed most of the stuff in my room, and Jenna said she’d ship it to me when I decided what to do, but she wouldn’t let me touch my bed. She said she had a feeling I’d be back, and she wanted me to know it was waiting for me in case I could return.

I’d held back the tears all week until that point, but before I knew what was happening, the waterworks began. Jenna and I had been glued at the hip ever since she walked in on my heart-to-heart with Clem, who filled her in on what went down with Jax. They both showered me with TLC from that moment until the cab came to pick me up this morning.

I can’t believe I thought Clem would hate me for being with her brother. She couldn’t have been more kind or compassionate. She even told me that if she had been in my shoes, she probably wouldn’t have told him what happened on his birthday either.

An announcement blares. “American Airlines flight 243 to Chicago O’Hare is now boarding at gate twelve.”

I have one more thing to do before I board my flight.

Opening the e-reader on my phone, I click on Clementine’s book. My finger hesitates for a moment before it flicks to the left and deletes the file. I know my roommate would understand.

Goodbye, Jax.

* * *

I should be happy to be going home because it’s been so long since I’ve been back, but when I take in the Windy City as the plane descends on the runway, I feel even more crestfallen. The snow along every sidewalk and street corner has hardened in the frigid air, and a gray soot blankets the ice, dimming any brightness.

Like the city is already mourning my loss, I think bitterly.

No, I can’t let myself be a basket case. I have to be strong. Mom needs me to keep my shit together.

At least for now.

I pull my luggage behind me as I scan the arrival loading zone, looking for my mom’s beat-up Toyota Corolla.

I expect to see her wearing some silly holiday sweater with ornaments hanging off an obnoxious fringe. I love those stupid sweaters.

“Danielle!” Someone calls my name from the open window of a minivan.

I don’t immediately recognize the woman, mostly because I’m not expecting my mom’s neighbor to be here. Mom has never sent anyone to get me.

Walking slowly to the van, I peer in, hoping to see Mom in the passenger seat, but it’s empty, except for Susan, her long-time best friend who lives next door.

“Hi,” I say cheerfully so I don’t start bawling.

I’m twenty. You’d think I’d be okay with someone other than my mother picking me up from the airport. But deep down, I know this can’t be good.

Susan runs around and gives me a hug before she helps me load my luggage. We chitchat as we drive out to the suburbs, and the longer she waits to explain why my mom’s not here, the more I’m filled with dread.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “It’s that bad, huh?” I ask as I stare out the window.

She’s silent, and I turn to look her in the eye.

“Yeah, sweetie, it is.” Susan’s hands grip the steering wheel. “Because you know she loves picking you up from the airport.”

Thinking back to all the phone conversations I had with my mom over the last few months, I’m suddenly able to pinpoint when she realized she was sick.

“My mom’s laptop camera never stopped working.”

“She didn’t want you to worry, honey. Beth thought she had more time, that she could fight it, and she tried one more medicine, but it made her sicker. You know how proud she is of you going to school in Boston. She figured you’d just come rushing home, and she wanted you to finish your degree.” Susan sniffles. “She tells me all the time that she was never as brave as you when she was your age.”

Hot tears stream down my face as the city rushes by my window. I would never call myself brave. Two weeks of avoiding my roommate attests to that fact, but I don’t bother to defend myself because the boulder-sized knot in my throat prevents me from saying anything.

When we pull up to my house, I wipe the wetness from my face. If I’ve ever needed to be brave, now’s the time.