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016 | Planes, Tears, and One Very Tired Mother

Roxanne Waight should have known better than to call this trip simple. It was just her, Pierre, and Genna, crossing borders and time zones to meet Jasper in Vilnius and launch yet another tour. She’d done harder things. She’d been on stage in sequins while pyrotechnics rained behind her, she’d survived jet lag, and she’d wrangled interviews on zero sleep and a bottle of tequila. But traveling alone with a nine-year-old and an infant? That was a new battlefield.

Pierre started out cheerful enough, proud to carry his own little backpack through the airport, but it only took one long security line for him to start sighing dramatically, as if TSA had personally insulted him. “Why can’t they just trust us?” he muttered, watching his shoelaces get scanned. Roxanne bit back a laugh—why indeed.

Meanwhile, Genna had her own opinions about flying. She announced them loudly, somewhere over Poland, in the form of shrill, exhausted cries that not even Pierre’s whispered stories or Roxanne’s lullabies could soothe. The businessman next to her looked ready to leap from the plane without a parachute. Roxanne offered him a tight smile that said: Go ahead, judge me. I dare you.

By the time they landed, Roxanne’s makeup was smudged, Genna’s blanket had been sacrificed to a puddle of juice, and Pierre had declared he was “never flying again” at least six times. She herded them through arrivals with the grace of a woman who was barely holding it together, muttering to herself that if she could do burlesque in six-inch heels, she could do this too.

Yes. It would be better. Because Jasper would be there, because the music would be waiting, because even in the chaos there was always magic.