The living room of my cramped, second-floor, two-bedroom apartment was a chaotic, beautiful sea of brightly colored nylon swimsuits, coconut-scented sunscreen, and the breathless, excited chatter of my five-year-old twins, Leo and Mia.
The air in the small space was thick with the suffocating summer heat of the city, but it didn’t matter. We were exactly forty-eight hours away from a ten-day, all-inclusive resort vacation in the crystalline waters of Tahiti.
I sat on the worn fabric of my secondhand sofa, pressing the heels of my hands into my burning eyes. I was profoundly, bone-deep exhausted. My spine ached with a dull, throbbing intensity that had become my constant companion. For three years, I had worked seventy-hour weeks. I was a senior financial analyst by day, and a freelance bookkeeping consultant by night. I had saved every spare penny, skipped every personal luxury, worn shoes until the soles literally separated from the canvas, and clipped coupons with a religious fervor to afford the $15,000 trip for the three of us. I had paid for the entire itinerary in cold, hard cash, routed through my premium American Express card for the travel insurance.
It was supposed to be our ultimate escape. A reward for surviving the grueling, relentless grind of single motherhood.
“Mommy! Look! I practice breathing!” Leo shouted, his muffled voice echoing through the plastic tube of a bright blue snorkel shoved into his mouth. He was parading across the faded carpet in his swim trunks, flippers slapping wildly against the floorboards.
Mia giggled, adjusting her own pink goggles over her eyes. “Can we see turtles, Mommy? Real sea turtles?”
“Yes, baby,” I smiled, though my facial muscles felt leaden. “Real sea turtles. We leave the day after tomorrow.”
My phone buzzed against the scratched formica of the kitchen counter. The sudden, sharp vibration shattered the joyful noise of the room.
I stood up, my knees popping in protest, and walked over to the counter. The caller ID illuminated the screen. It was a text message from my mother, Evelyn.
