From that point, I had six weeks to tie up all loose ends. Tons of logistical and administrative shit to deal with. I had to dismantle my apartment, pack all my stuff up and decide what to put into storage, what to leave behind and what to ship to Panama City. For the second time, I had to ask Hopeton to take care of selling my truck once I was gone. It was a lot. But I wanted to make sure my life in Brooklyn was cleanly closed out, this time.
I was going to miss my Flatbush apartment. It was the first place I’d ever picked out for myself and turned into something that felt like home. I was aware that I’d hit that milestone a little later in life than most people who’d grown up in New York, but I’d eventually gotten there, nonetheless.
My parents were understandably not thrilled about my uprooting myself for Panama, where I’d be once again placing my destiny directly into Mundo’s orbit.
“We’ve already seen how that's played out,” my father remarked.
“Yes, and we lost you for five years,” my mother chimed in.
There was no way I could give them the whole story, so I showed them my consulting contract and said I expected to be back in New York within a year. “Two years max,” I hedged.
My parents looked skeptical.
“And as soon as I get back, I’m going to buy my own apartment,” I promised. “I’m going to settle down in New York for good.”
“Not Miami?” my mother asked, with a tone of feigned innocence.
“Arete, Manman. Tanpri! I knew I shouldn’t have brought anyone to meet you.”
“Can you blame me?” my mother asked. “I’ve been waiting years for this!”
I let it go. I didn’t have it in me to argue with her.
And I for sure did not want to tell her that I wasn’t heading to Panama City directly from JFK. Mistou and I both agreed that I should take a four-day layover over in Miami first. I felt like it would be a good separation between my old life and my new, uncertain, future. And I very much wanted to spend time with Mistou on her home turf. That way, she’d have more of a vested interest if I invited her to visit me in Panama at a later date.
Even when I was in love, my logistics coded brain refused to chill out.
