Tyler and Emma, learning this is how you treat someone who loves you.
“I understand,” I said.
My voice came out smooth and clinical, the voice I used to deliver bad news in family conference rooms at Chicago Memorial.
Kevin’s head snapped up at my tone. Jessica relaxed, thinking she’d “handled” me.
“Have a wonderful trip,” I said.
Then I turned and walked away, pulling my suitcase behind me. My back was straight, my chin up, the same posture I used when walking into hospital board meetings, malpractice depositions, and ethics committee hearings.
Behind me, I heard Jessica say to Kevin, half-laughing, “See? She’s fine with it. Let’s go check in.”
But I wasn’t fine.
I was finished.
I was done.
I walked to a quiet corner of the terminal near a bank of tall windows overlooking the tarmac. Planes trundled across the concrete in the blue pre-dawn light, tails painted with the logos of airlines from all over the country.
I set my suitcase beside a row of empty seats, took a deep breath, and pulled out my phone.
First call.
I scrolled to a number labeled Elite Travel Services, the high-end agency I’d used for complicated conferences and once-in-a-lifetime trips during my working years.
The line rang twice before a calm, professional voice answered.
“Elite Travel Services, this is Amanda speaking. How may I help you?”
“This is Dr. Margaret Hayes,” I said. “I have a reservation—confirmation number HW2847. I need to make an immediate cancellation.”
I heard typing.
“One moment, Dr. Hayes…” Another pause. “All right, I see your reservation here. This is a comprehensive booking—flights, hotel, activities—for five passengers.” She hesitated. “I should inform you this is a non-refundable package. If you cancel now, you’ll lose the entire amount of forty-seven thousand dollars. Are you sure you want to proceed?”
“I’m aware,” I said. “Cancel everything. All five passengers. All rooms. All activities. Everything.”
“But ma’am, you’ll lose—”
“Cancel it,” I repeated. “Now. I’ll hold while you process it.”
There was another pause. More typing.
“Dr. Hayes, are you certain? Once I process this, it cannot be undone.”
I watched a Hawaiian Airlines plane taxi toward the runway.
“I’m absolutely certain,” I said. “Cancel it all.”
More typing. A few clicks.
“All right. Processing cancellation now,” she said. “This will take approximately two minutes.”
Two minutes to erase six months of planning and forty-seven thousand dollars.
I stood by the window, watching the planes. I thought about how excited I’d been that morning, how I’d barely slept the night before, how I’d imagined Tyler’s face when he saw his first sea turtle.
I thought about how Jessica had told me I was too old and that the kids loved her mother more, and how my son had stood there and said it was “just one trip.”
“Dr. Hayes?” Amanda’s voice came back on the line. “Cancellation is complete. All reservations have been canceled—flights for all five passengers, hotel rooms, all booked activities. I’m so sorry about your trip.”
