Ульяна Солнечная – Its Never Too Late - As Long As Youre Alive (страница 11)

the times,

the price.

The price stung.

Kate nearly gasped.

She had never spent that much money in her life — except maybe on Tom’s funeral, and even then the children had helped.

“That’s expensive,” she breathed.

“It is,” Barbara agreed. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixty-seven.”

“And how many chances do you think you’ve got left?”

Kate looked at her friend.

Barbara was looking back at her seriously, without a trace of a smile.

“I understand,” Kate said quietly.

“We’re buying it.”

Once again, a finger hovered over the button.

But this time, it was Barbara’s.

“No,” Barbara said. “You do it. It’s your ticket. Your button.”

Kate took the laptop.

Looked at the screen.

And for a brief second, it felt as though she were standing in the hallway forty years ago, suitcase in hand, while her husband coughed in the bedroom.

That time, she had given the ticket back.

This time, there was no one to return it to.

No one to justify herself to.

Except herself.

She clicked Purchase.

Filled out the form.

First name.

Last name.

Passport details (she had gotten the passport a year ago, when her granddaughter tried to convince her to go to Mexico, though the trip had fallen through).

She entered her card number.

Her heart was pounding somewhere in her throat.

One last click.

The screen blinked.

Thank you for your purchase. Your ticket has been sent to your email.

Kate stared at the words and could not quite believe them.

A ticket.

She had a ticket.

To Paris.

“Well?” Barbara leaned closer. “Did it work?”

Kate nodded.

She couldn’t speak — tears had filled her throat.

But these were good tears.

Bright ones.

Barbara hugged her, and they sat there that way for several minutes — two older women in a small Oklahoma kitchen, holding each other while one of them had just bought a plane ticket to Paris.

“I’m going to Paris,” Kate whispered, tasting the words. “I’m really going to Paris.”

“You are,” Barbara confirmed. “Now get moving. You’ve got a month.”

Packing

Packing turned out to be harder than she had expected.

Kate had not packed for a real trip in forty years.

The last time she had gone anywhere far was on her honeymoon with Tom, to the nearest town with a motel and a run-down restaurant.

Since then, she had only ever gone to visit relatives in neighboring states — by car, with a cooler bag and a thermos.

The suitcase was found in the attic.

Old.

Brown.

Missing one wheel.

Tom had bought it once on clearance, and they had never used it.

“You need a new one,” Cheryl said when she stopped by that weekend. “You’re not making it far with that.”

So they drove to the mall.

Kate felt like an alien among rows of suitcases — small ones, giant ones, pink ones, black ones, glossy zippers, mysterious wheels.

“This one,” Cheryl said, pointing to a small silver suitcase. “It’s light. It’ll fit as carry-on if needed.”

Kate nodded obediently.

She had only the vaguest idea what a carry-on actually was or how it differed from a regular suitcase.

But she was too embarrassed to ask.

At home, Cheryl made a list.