Ульяна Солнечная – Its Never Too Late - As Long As Youre Alive (страница 12)

“Passport. Tickets — print them too, just in case. Travel insurance — I’ll buy that online for you, don’t worry. Money. Card. Some cash — euros. I’ll exchange it. Medications. All medications go in your carry-on in case the suitcase gets lost.”

“Lost?” Kate asked, alarmed.

“Mom, don’t panic. It’s rare. But put anything important in the small bag that stays with you in the cabin.”

Kate nodded, already feeling overwhelmed.

“Clothes,” Cheryl continued. “Check the weather. Paris in May is warm, but it rains. Bring a light coat and comfortable shoes. No heels, Mom. Promise me.”

“Heels?” Kate laughed. “Honey, the last time I wore heels was at your wedding. And I nearly killed myself.”

Cheryl smiled, but worry remained in her eyes.

“Mom, are you sure you can do this? Maybe I should go with you.”

Kate looked at her daughter.

She stood there in the middle of the room — young, beautiful, but tired. Two children. A job. A mortgage.

And she was willing to drop everything to escort her aging mother to Paris.

“No,” Kate said firmly. “This is something I have to do alone. You’ve already done enough for me. You turned me into a grandmother,” she said, smiling at her own joke. “Now it’s my turn to grow.”

Cheryl sighed.

“Call every day.”

“Every day.”

“And send pictures.”

“If I figure out how, I will.”

“Mom, you do know how to take pictures on your phone. I showed you.”

A week before the trip, Kate woke in the middle of the night.

Her heart was racing.

Her throat felt tight.

I can’t do this.

I won’t manage.

You old fool, where do you think you’re going?

She switched on the light and sat up in bed.

The room was quiet.

Moonlight streamed through the window, laying a silver rectangle across the floor.

She got up, went into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of water.

Her hands were shaking.

The map of Paris hung on the refrigerator.

In the moonlight it looked unreal — like a postcard from somebody else’s life.

Kate sat down at the table.

Opened the notebook — the same checkered one where she had written down all her fears and dreams.

She reread the first entries.

I never went to Paris.

I never told Jacob.

I was afraid of looking ridiculous.

“I’m scared,” she whispered into the empty room.

“I’m scared, Lord. I’m alone. In a foreign country. I don’t know the language. What if I get lost? What if I get robbed? What if I fall and no one helps me?”

The fears crawled out of her like roaches from a crack in the wall.

One after another.

She sat there until dawn.

And when the birds began chirping outside, she suddenly remembered something Jacob had written:

You are still in my heart. As a question I never managed to answer.

“What question?” she asked aloud.

And then she answered herself:

“What would have happened if I hadn’t been afraid back then?”

She looked at the map.

Then at the notebook.

Picked up her pen and wrote on a clean page:

I am afraid. But I am going. If not now, then when?

That morning she called Barbara.

“So how are you?” Barbara asked. “Ready?”

“No,” Kate said honestly. “I was up all night shaking.”

“Excellent,” Barbara said approvingly. “That means you’re doing the right thing. If you weren’t shaking, I’d be worried. Fear is normal. Fear means you’re going somewhere you’ve never been before. Forward, not backward.”

Kate let out a breath.

“You sound like a therapist, Barbara.”

“I sound like a fool with two cats and an apple pie,” Barbara corrected her. “Come over tonight. I baked one. And Garfield misses you.”

That evening, they sat in Barbara’s kitchen.

Drank tea.

Ate pie.

And Kate unpacked and repacked the suitcase for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Too much,” Barbara pronounced. “Get rid of half of it. They have stores in Paris too, you know. Besides, you’re going there to see the city, not drag your possessions around behind you.”

“But what if it gets cold?”

“Then you’ll buy a scarf. It’s Paris. Scarves are practically part of the culture.”