I’m as bad as Jessica, I think, going to the back of the airplane yet again to stand in the queue for the bathroom, not that I really need to go. I just can’t bear sitting anymore, and we still have two and a half hours to go.

What if this is a mistake, going? What if seeing Kai again is awkward and uncomfortable? What if the sex isn’t good? What if all the pleasure was in my imagination?

I step back, allowing more people to squeeze past, my back pressed to another passenger in line. We’re human sardines, I think, glancing down at my arm and seeing my Mystic tan, the color a generous golden brown. I like the color. I like me tan, even fake tan.

I’m feeling so different lately, so brave, so young, so headstrong. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry at this new me. I was never one to take risks like this. I never chased men.

What I do remember is getting pregnant, giving birth, holding my babies for the first time.

I remember how difficult William’s birth was and the hours of labor and the talk of wheeling me in for an emergency cesarean if I didn’t get him out soon. Then somehow all nine pounds of him was there, his big shoulders wrapped tightly in a blanket, and he was propped in the crook of my arm on the bed because I was so weak that I had no strength left. But I saw him, felt him, looked into his wide, serious eyes, and my world has never been the same. My world has been his, my heart has been his, too.

People tell me children are resilient, that they can heal and recover from almost anything provided they’re given time and love. And I tell myself that there are worse things that could happen—death, dismemberment—but those are small comforts while the kids struggle to adjust to a world that isn’t Mom and Dad squared. Some kids never have both parents at home, but my kids do. My kids know what they’re missing. And I hate that.

Turbulence sends me back to my seat, and we’re strapped in for the duration of the flight. Finally we descend, touch ground, and I turn on my cell phone as we file off the plane.

There are half a dozen messages, including two from Kai. The first from him says he’s been called into work and can’t meet me at the airport after all. The second call is from the beach. He phoned between lessons to see if I’d landed yet.