Page 2 of The Last Sunrise

“She’s… she passed away last year.”

Shit.

“I’m so sorry. I—”

She shakes her head, her dark hair moving off her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. People always get that look on their face when I talk about her, but she was at peace and death is sometimes a relief. I had wonderful times with her, life-altering memories that I’ll cherish forever. I’m grateful to have them and to have had her in my life for the time I did. She was a gift to me, and not all gifts last forever.”

I soak her words in for a moment. What a healthy way to look at and appreciate something with the most intense stigma around it. Death is always dreaded, but her take on it was refreshing to me.

“You’re right. We tend to have such fear and judgment when it comes to losing someone, but you’re doing it right. This is amazing, you’re amazing,” I tell her, full of honesty, wishing I had taken that approach when I lost the person, outside my mother, who was closest to me.

“Thank you.” Her deep olive cheeks turn slightly pink, and she gently cups my hands while taking her passport back. “You’ll fill yours soon. This is just the beginning.” I don’t say anything. There is nothing to say, so I return her smile and sit back, enjoying the view as we get closer to the ground.

“Just the beginning.” I repeat her words as the jet’s wheels touch the ground.

Chapter Two

The ride to the hotel is about a half an hour, and my mom spends it on the phone. I stare out the window trying to capture every flicker of beauty I can. I can’t believe I’m here in Europe, in Spain, on the beautiful island of Mallorca. It’s surreal. It’s so different from what I’m used to in Texas, and nothing like what I imagined it to be. All of the Google Maps Street View searching, Instagram reels, and TikToks didn’t prepare me for the real thing. The air inside the car is cool, and yet I can smell the sea. When we arrive at the hotel, it’s also more beautiful than the internet prepared me for. It looks like a castle, completely made of stone, and rests on the edge of the sea, and the crashing waves can be heard from the valet circle. Luxurious cars are lined around the curve of the cobblestone driveway, and the valets are so quick to open our doors, grab our bags and haul them onto a rolling cart, escorting us to the lobby before I can catch a breath. Once inside the lobby, a handsome man dressed in a white shirt and khaki linen pants offers us a welcome drink. It’s dark red with a lot of ice and a giant orange slice on the edge.

“Calimandria for you; it’s our delicious and refreshing specialty here. Welcome to Mallorca.” His smile is so welcoming and warm as I reach for the drink.

My mother’s hand gently pushes at my wrist, pulling the drink toward her.

“You shouldn’t—” she begins.

I yank the glass back rebelliously. “It’s alsomysummer, remember? And it’s one drink.” I pretend to plea, but either way I’m having this damn drink.

With a heavy sigh she grabs the other one and raises her glass to clink it to mine. I realize, with a bit of sadness weighing on my chest, we’ve never cheersed before, and this would likely be the last time.Stop being so ominous, I tell myself, plastering on a smile.

“Cheers to your summer,oursummer, in my favorite place on earth. I do hope you make lasting lifetime memories. Let’s enjoy our time here together?”

I nod, smiling and taking a sip of the ice-cold cocktail. It’s slightly bitter but in an addicting way. It tastes so fresh and exotic. I’m already beginning to feel like I’m morphing into a different woman here on this island, and we just arrived. I’m easily influenced by the small things in life, which I hope will make every moment here even more life-changing.

“This way, Señora Pera.” The man who gave us our drinks waves the hand that isn’t holding the empty tray.

I follow his eyeline to the reception desk as my mom corrects him to say “Miss.” There’s no one behind it as we approach. My mom’s phone rings in her bag, and she digs in it while we wait, downing the rest of her drink. I try to keep up and decide to just chug it. It’s refreshing and warms my stomach. I hand the glass back to the man and my mom does the same. Leaning my elbow and forearm onto the empty counter, I try to ignore my growling stomach as the cocktail slowly kicks in.

I jump in surprise when a young woman with bright red curly hair pops up from behind the counter.

“Sorry.” She lets out a loud laugh.

The sound is so unique that I instantly smile.

Her eyes are bright green, so light that I wonder if they’re contacts. One of her eyes has a half-finished black line across the lid and she’s holding an eyeliner pen in one hand. There’s a shiny piece of tape stuck to her eyelid.

“I saw this tutorial on TikTok where you use tape to get the perfect cat eye!” Her voice is as full of energy as her laugh. “But I haven’t mastered it yet… obviously.” She shrugs, beaming from ear to ear.

My mom groans and taps her credit card against the counter. I read the girl’s name tag. Amara. What a pretty name. It matches her perfectly.

“Sorry… Sorry, Mrs.—” she begins, but my mom cuts her off.

“It’s Miss Pera. Not Missus.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Amara’s eyes drop to the graphite counter her computer is resting on.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, she’s just crabby because she didn’t sleep on our flight.” I try to make the receptionist feel better. “And calling her ‘Missus’ is a sore spot for her.”

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