“We’re sending units to the gate now, ma’am. And we’ll dispatch a welfare check to the residence.”

Ava hung up.

She walked out of the alcove. She walked to the large glass windows overlooking Gate B12.

The jetway door was open. Passengers were filing in.

Linda and Chloe were at the front of the Priority line. They were handing their passes to the gate agent. The scanner beeped.

Red light.

The agent frowned. She typed something. She scanned it again.

Red light.

Linda started gesturing. “It worked five minutes ago! Try it again!”

Chloe was tapping her foot, looking annoyed. “Just let us on, we’ll sort it out in the air!”

Then, the doors to the terminal swung open.

Three uniformed Port Authority police officers and a TSA supervisor briskly walked down the ramp, pushing past the confused economy passengers.

Ava watched through the glass.

She saw the moment Linda realized what was happening. The color drained from her face. She dropped her Gucci bag.

She saw Chloe try to walk away, to blend into the crowd, but an officer grabbed her arm.

She saw Mark put his hands up immediately, the coward.

The officers were talking to them. Linda was pointing at the phone, probably trying to call Ava.

Ava didn’t answer. She just watched.

Chapter 5: The Walk of Shame
Ten minutes later, the procession emerged from the jetway.

It was a spectacle.

Linda was crying loudly, her expensive mascara running in black streaks down her face. One officer had a grip on her elbow.

Chloe was in handcuffs. She was shouting, “This is a misunderstanding! My sister bought these for us! It was a gift!”

Mark followed, head down, looking like he wanted to vomit.

They were being marched right past where Ava was standing.

They stopped when they saw her. Ava was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Ava!” Linda screamed, lunging toward her but held back by the officer. “Tell them! Tell them you authorized this! Tell them it’s a mistake!”

The lead officer stopped. He looked at Ava. “Ma’am? Are you Ava Carter?”

“I am,” Ava said.

“Do you know these people?”

Ava looked at her mother. The woman who had guilt-tripped her for years. The woman who had stolen her future.

She looked at Chloe. The sister who had toasted to her stupidity.

“I know them,” Ava said calmly.

“Did you purchase twenty-four thousand dollars worth of airline tickets for them as a gift?”

Linda’s eyes were wide, pleading. Save me. Save us. Be the good daughter.

Ava thought of her father, sitting alone in the dark house, hungry and cold.

“No,” Ava said. “I didn’t buy those tickets. I didn’t authorize that charge. And I certainly didn’t tell them to abandon my diabetic father to go to the beach.”

The officer nodded. “That’s what I thought. Grand Larceny, Credit Card Fraud, and Elder Endangerment. Let’s go.”

“My insulin!” Linda wailed, trying a new angle, clutching her chest. “I’m sick! I need a doctor!”

“No,” Ava corrected her, her voice cutting through the noise of the terminal. “Dad is sick. You’re just broke.”

Chloe spat on the floor near Ava’s shoes. “You ruined everything! You selfish b*tch! You’re going to pay for this!”

“I already paid,” Ava said. “For years. Now it’s your turn.”

The officers dragged them away. The crowd of travelers watched, whispering and filming on their phones.

As they disappeared around the corner, Ava turned to the gate agent who had been watching the drama.

“Excuse me,” Ava said. “I have a flight to Chicago, but I need to cancel it.”

“Of course,” the agent said, looking at her with respect.

” Is there a flight back to Philadelphia leaving soon?” Ava asked. “I need to go get my father.”

Chapter 6: The Real Departure
The house was dark when Ava arrived three hours later. The police had already been there for the welfare check; a patrol car was parked in the driveway, lights flashing.

Ava ran inside.

Her father was sitting in his recliner in the living room. He looked confused, frail. A police officer was sitting with him, making him tea.

“Ava?” Robert rasped when he saw her. “Where’s Linda? She said she was going to get milk. It’s been… a long time.”

Ava’s heart broke. He didn’t know. He had no idea they were halfway to the Maldives in their minds.

“I know, Dad,” Ava said, kneeling beside him and taking his cold hand. “She got lost. She’s not coming back for a while.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s safe,” Ava said. “She’s with the police.”

She packed a bag for him. She found his insulin—hidden in the back of the fridge, plenty of it left. She found the unpaid bills stacked on the counter.

“We’re leaving, Dad,” Ava said.

“Where to?”

“My place. It’s small, but it’s warm. And I have a guest room.”

Six Months Later.

The sun was shining on the balcony of Ava’s apartment. It wasn’t the Maldives, but the view of the city park was beautiful.

Robert was sitting in a comfortable chair, reading a book. He looked healthier than he had in years. He had gained weight. His blood sugar was stable. Without the stress of Linda and Chloe, without the constant financial panic, he was thriving.

Ava sat next to him with her laptop.

Her phone rang. It was a collect call from the County Detention Center.

Caller: Linda Carter.

Ava listened to the automated prompt. Press 1 to accept the charges.

She thought about the voicemail Linda had left last week, screaming that Ava was ungrateful, that she owed them bail money, that “family sticks together.”

She looked at her dad. He was smiling at a bird landing on the railing.

“Who is it?” Robert asked.

“Spam,” Ava said.

She pressed the button to block the number.

“Some trips,” Ava whispered to herself, “are one-way.”

She turned back to her laptop. She was on a travel website.

“Dad,” she said. “How do you feel about Hawaii?”

Robert looked up, eyes twinkling. “Hawaii? Can we afford that?”

“I saved a lot of money recently,” Ava smiled. “I cut some unnecessary expenses.”

She clicked Confirm.

Two tickets.
Passenger 1: Ava Carter.
Passenger 2: Robert Carter.
Class: First.

“Pack your bags, Dad,” Ava said, closing the laptop. “We’re going on an adventure. A real one.”

She poured two glasses of iced tea. She raised hers.

“To us,” she said.

“To us,” her father replied.

And as they clinked glasses, the sound was sweeter than any champagne in the world.

The End.