Crush by Carrie Mac Page B

the Universe. If you’re raised by hippies, this sort of thing passes for normal.
    I take a deep breath and launch into it before another rush of tears start. All of a sudden, I really need my parents to know how much I love them.
    “I am so thankful that my parents love each other so much, and that they love me and Joy with all of their hearts. I know how blessed I am to have them and how lucky I am compared to the screwed-up homes so many kids have. I am so proud of them for going to Thailand to build a school and for being together for thirty years and for whothey are in the Universe, and I just want them to be safe. And I want Dad to watch what he does when he’s been drinking.”
    Sometimes Dad gets a little touchy when I mention his drinking, but when I open my eyes, they’re both gazing at me adoringly. This usually drives me mad, but right now it just makes me miss them already.
    “Blessed be,” they say in unison.
    “Blessed be,” I mumble, through more tears.
    We hug each other, and then we all start crying with the earnestness of years of practice. I bet the passersby think we’re heading to a funeral, the way we’re carrying on. But we carry on like this for any number of occasions: new babies, weddings, breakups, the tsunami, the global AIDS crisis, crop failure, or Joy getting a full scholarship to the Brooklyn Academy of Dance after we all thought she’d be a cokehead underwear model for the rest of her life, and of course partings especially, like this one.
    It’s time for me to head to the plane. New York, here I come. With Daisy, who’s startedbarking again. She barks all the way onto the plane, too. Yep, we’re going to be about as popular as the woman in front of me with the twin babies who both have the rosy cheeks of teething and the drippy noses and runny eyes of a head cold. What fun.

Chapter Two
    I just got back from a little wander to see how first class flies, but the snooty flight attendant wouldn’t let me in. Miraculously, Daisy isn’t barking, although the babies in front of me are still crying and have been ever since takeoff. Daisy’s snout is tucked under her paws, and she’s snoring like I’ve never heard before. I take another little stroll to the back of the plane (you don’t want to sit too long or you’llget a blood clot and die). When I get back to my seat, I notice that the twins are sleeping too now. The mom glances up and smiles apologetically. She looks ten miles beyond tired.
    “If you need a hand when they wake up, just let me know,” I whisper.
    “Really?” She puts a hand to her heart. “Do you really mean that?”
    I nod. “Babysitter extraordinaire at your service.” We shake hands. “My name’s Hope.”
    “Maira. And thank you.” She pumps my hand. “I’ve been getting the most evil looks. It’s just that they’re—”
    “Teething and have colds.”
    “Yes!” She pumps my hand even harder.
    “How did you know?”
    “I’ve babysat about a million kids.”
    One of the babies stretches his legs and opens his eyes a little. Maira finally lets go of my hand to put a finger to her lips, but just then the pilot comes over the speaker to tell us, louder and with more enthusiasm than necessary, that we’re ahead of schedule by five minutes. Both babies wake up, and theone in green opens his mouth and lets out a spectacularly loud wail for such a little guy. I glance back at my seat. Thankfully, Daisy is sleeping through it.
    “Oh dear.” Maira picks him up. “Here we go.”
    “How about I take him for a little walk?” I offer as the other one sticks his fist in his mouth and screws his eyes shut in preparation for a screaming fit.
    “You’re an angel,” she says as she hands me the first baby. “This is Felix. He has sneezing fits, so don’t be alarmed if he goes off.”
    Felix and I pace the aisles—not into first class though, even with a cutie in my arms—and when he finally falls back to sleep, I trade him for the other