KNIVES AND HEARTSTRINGS

Breathe, Adira. Fucking Breathe.

Blood and glass were everywhere. I refused to open my eyes, because the next shot could land anywhere, and I wasn’t about to get my head blown to pieces.

God, why me?

I just wanted some peace for once. That was the fucking plan. Instead, I’m in the midst of a goddamn shoot out.

“Mr—”

A bullet cut him off. His head snapped back and he fell to the ground with a sick thud. I swear, I felt my soul leave my body.

I managed to hold back the scream bubbling in my throat.

I should’ve known better than to pray for peace. Now, I’m being royally fucked in the ass by the universe.

Breathe Adira. Breathe.

You’re probably wondering how I got here, in this mess, with blood and,… holy shit is that a fucking eyeball?! 

Breatheeee!!!

Fine. You want the backstory? It starts two days ago, where all bad ideas do, with Pen, a club, and a promise that “one drink” wouldn’t kill me. 

Spoiler alert: she lied.

Two days earlier…

“Are you sure you want to spend your vacation in Greece?” my mother asked, brow furrowed as she folded a blouse into my suitcase.

“Yes, Mama,” I replied, tucking my bag of Flamin’ Hot Lays into my carry-on. “Mykonos is exactly what I nedd. Quiet. Peaceful. And after dealing with Baba for two years straight, peace is exactly what I need.”

My headache made an unwelcome appearance at the thought of last night’s argument. Eight years shadowing my father, two years as COO, and yet he acted like taking a vacation was a betrayal to him. 

Mama sighed. “I just think Greece is too far away. Why not Canada instead? I looked it up, and there’s a fantastic gyros spot in Toronto.”

“Gyros?” I laughed. “Mama, the gyros in Mykonos will blow Canada’s out of the water.”

Her gaze shifted to my chips. “Do you really need to take those? You’ll ruin your stomach, agapoula.”

(sweetheart)

“It’s just a little spice Mama,” I said, slipping them into my carry-on triumphantly. “Keeps my tan even.” 

She shook her head, smiling faintly. “Just be careful Adira.  Don’t get hurt or food poisoning.”

I held back a groan. 

“Mama,” I said, turning to look at her. “You don’t need to worry. I’ve travelled solo for the past five years and I’m still alive.” I took her hand and squeezed gently. “Halárose, Mama. I’ll be fine.”

(Relax.)

Her green eyes shimmered and I froze.

“Oh no. Please don’t cry,” I begged. “You’re acting like I’ll end up… I don’t know… dead with a blood-stained note on the porch.”

Bad move. Her sniffles turned into full sobs. I should know by now to keep my morbid thoughts where they belong: in my head, and not out of my mouth.

“Okay, not dead,” I scrambled. “Maybe just… hairless?”

Strike two. Her tears escalated. I seem to have forgotten how much Mama loves my curls.

I sighed and pulled her into a hug. Eventually, she quieted and looked up at me.

“One day, that mouth of yours will land you in trouble,” she warned, dabbing her nose with a silk handkerchief.

“Well, it’s the same mouth that keeps us in the Fortune 500,” I shot back.

She slapped my arm playfully.

“Ouch!” I protested, feigning pain.

“That’s what you get for not behaving like a lady,” she teased, a faint smile breaking through her worry.

As she turned to leave, she paused by the door. “Please, just be careful,” she said softly. “And smile more, dear. You don’t want wrinkles like mine.”

I laughed. If I get to age  like her, I’d take it.

*********************************

JFK Airport

The terminal buzzed with life. Baba stood beside me, tall, intimidating, his bald head gleaming under the lights, and his coffee-brown eyes as sharp as ever. His presence commanded respect.

He earned it though. Being a first-generation African American man that had seen more discrimination in the business world than anyone ought to, he wore his hard-won success like a badge of honor.

“Did you really need to take a commercial flight? The jet was available, Adira.” he said, arms crossed in disapproval. 

“Yes, Baba,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “It’s first class. Not exactly cheap, you know.”

He said nothing for a moment, then sighed. “Just be safe.” 

His worry tugged at me. Just like Mama’s did.

Was there something I needed to watch out for? Deciding to ignore that thought, I looked at my father fully and for a moment, the unshakeable titan of industry looked vulnerable. 

Baba was tired.

“I will,” I promised. “I’ll call when I land.”

His expression melted. “Come here, little warrior.”

The nickname softened me. He’d called me that since I threw a rock at a bully in kindergarten. Not my best move, but it was effective.

I hugged him tightly, breathing in his familiar cologne. Baba wasn’t big on affection, which made moments like these rare treasures. 

“This is the final boarding call for Athens,” the speakers blared.

“You wouldn’t be rushing if you’d taken the jet,” he muttered. He just always had to get the last word. 

Laughing, I grabbed my luggage. “Goodbye, Baba,” I said with a playful salute as I walked off.

*********************************************

As I sank into my seat, I just couldn’t wait to get to our home at Mykonos.

I opened my bag of chips, ignoring Mama’s voice in my head. The fiery tang made me smile so wide the man beside me probably thought I was insane.

Whatever. Worth it.

As the plane lifted off, I swallowed two anxiety pills. They’d make me queasy, but better that than a panic attack midair. 

Closing my eyes, I exhaled. Greece wasn’t just a getaway, it was my reset button.

No boardrooms, no deadlines. Just freedom. 

I’ve left my burdens back at the gate. 

As sleep pulled me under, I whispered a prayer to the universe. 

Let this be the start of something new.

I should have known by now to be more specific with my prayers.