Better

by Carey Heywood

  I tilt my head, trying to picture myself in each shot. I squint. I close one eye. No matter what I try, I can’t see it. I’m not a girl who can travel around the world. I won’t go. They can’t make me. I cringe, thinking of Ally. The idea of not doing something she wanted is impossible. No matter what, I have to do this—for her.

  I go downstairs, walk up to my parents, and interrupt them. “Mom, Dad, stop.”

  They both look over at me.

  “I want to do this. It’s what Ally wanted. Does the idea of going to another country all by myself scare me? Yes, a lot, but she wouldn’t have asked me to do this if she hadn’t thought I could.”

  “I don’t like it,” my dad mumbles.

  “Dad.”

  He takes off his glasses and rubs his hand over his face. “Okay, I know she asked that your mom and I not go, but how about you travel with a companion?”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I groan.

  “That’s not what I’m saying. There are tours and travel guides. It might make me feel better if you were part of a group.”

  I look at my mom. She smiles, trying to reassure me.

  “I guess that would be okay.” I relent.

  I walk over to sit next to my mom on the sofa while my dad starts talking about my getting a passport and traveler’s checks.

  My mind is racing. When will I go? Where will I go? Can I actually even do this? Alone?

  When I was ten, I spent the summer with my dad’s parents in New Hampshire. I’d traveled by myself. My mom had stayed with me at the gate until I boarded the plane. It had been a direct flight to Manchester. My grandma had been waiting for me at the gate there. The experience was equally terrifying and exhilarating.

  It wasn’t the first time I had flown, but it was the first time I had flown by myself. My whole flight, I remembered being so afraid my grandma wouldn’t be there for me. I don’t know why I was so scared. I didn’t have a reason to doubt she would be there.

  My family was nothing if not punctual. Any lesson or practice I had growing up, soccer or dance, my mom or dad was on time to pick me up. Not once were they late.

  My fear of my grandma not being there was irrational. I can see that now.

  This trip will be different. There won’t be someone waiting for me, to hold my hand at each stop. I don’t want to admit it, but maybe having a travel companion is a good idea.

  I’m just not sure if that’s what Ally wanted for me or not. If she wanted me to do this by myself, I want to respect that. However, I don’t see her wanting me to be scared or alone in a foreign place either. She thought this would be good for me, and I trust her.

  Paperwork, my existence has become one form after another. There are forms to open an account in my name to deposit Ally’s life insurance into. There’s a passport application. There are temporary visas to apply for. All of this takes time, and I have to write my name, date of birth, social security number, and address over and over again.

  It will hopefully take three weeks to get my passport. I need a visa for Australia, China, and Zambia but not for Peru or France.

  Plus, I’m not sure those are the places I want to go to. Do I want to see the Great Wall of China or the hustle and bustle of Tokyo? Do I want to see the Great Barrier Reef or the Outback? Machu Picchu or Rio? I’m not sure.

  Where I will go and how long I will be at each place has so many variables to consider. Local climate and the differences in seasons south of the equator is a factor as well.

  My mom and I pour over travel guides and handbooks. Planning this trip is giving her a reason to get out of bed every day. She wants to know I will be as prepared as possible.

  My dad, when he isn’t working, researches different sightseeing tour groups. If he had it his way, I’d do the whole trip cruise-style. One dedicated bed the whole time with stops to various ports along the way. I’m not opposed to taking a cruise at some point on my trip, especially in the Caribbean, but I don’t want to do that the whole time.

  In one of the travel books, my mom and I are reading about France. It talks about scouts and how they will backpack all over in small groups. I want to try that—backpacking. I don’t know if I’d like it, but from the pictures, it looks like it could be fun. How will I ever find out what I like if I don’t try different things?

  My dad isn’t thrilled with this argument. I love him. I know he just wants to keep me safe. I wish he would relax a bit though. His anxiety is starting to wear on me. My mom is the opposite. She is full speed ahead, ready for me to go and figure it out on my own. I need them to meet somewhere in the middle and figure out a safe way for me to experience things.

  “You two are driving me crazy.”

  Their heads snap up to look at me.

  “What?” My dad lifts a brow at me.

  “This trip. You two.” I wave my finger back and forth between them.

  My mom folds her arms across her chest and leans back into the sofa. “Care to elaborate, Aubrey?”

  Why did I open my mouth? “All right, Dad is going overboard on the safety precautions, and you don’t seem to be worried at all. I would love some balance.”

  One corner of my dad’s mouth pulls up into a half grin. “So, I need to relax, and your mom needs to act more stressed. Is that right?”

  “Dad,” I groan. Then, I think about it. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah.”

  My mom rolls her eyes. “I’m just trying to be supportive.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it, but stop pointing out hang gliding and bungee jumping, please. Not going to happen.”

  My dad glares at her. “Bungee jumping?”

  She shrugs. “Ally always wanted to try it.”

  I look down. “I never knew that.”

  She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Ally wanted it all. I used to think her dreams were crazy. She joked about going over Niagara Falls in a barrel, swimming with sharks, climbing Mt. Everest. She was fearless when she was little. She must have given me a hundred heart attacks.”

  “What did she do?” I ask, leaning forward.

  She shakes her head, laughing. “One time, she staged a girls-against-boys war in the neighborhood we grew up in. I was doing homework on our back deck. She and a bunch of kids were in the woods behind our house. She appointed herself lookout and climbed to the top of a small pine tree. She was screaming at the top of her lungs that the boys were coming, and she must have moved around too much. The top of the tree broke off, and she fell with it. She had to have hit every branch on the way down.”

  She paused to lick her lips. “I run over to check on her. The first thing out of her mouth was, ‘The boys are coming.’ I could have strangled her.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  My mom flicked her hand at the wrist. “She had a bump on the back of her head. She refused to let me put ice on it. She was so stubborn.” Her fingertips brush moisture away from the corners of her eyes.

  “Mom, don’t cry.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. It feels nice to talk about her.”

  “I remember she didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My dad smiles.

  “She was right. You’re not.” She laughs.

  “Mom!”

  “Settle down, honey. I’m joking.”

  My dad stands and comes over to sit next to my mom on the couch. He pulls her toward him and loudly kisses her cheek.

  I look at them. His arms are wrapped around her waist. My mom is blushing, and they’re both smiling. It’s nice to see them look happy. As much as they both grieve Ally, it’s good that they still have each other.

  Other than my parents, who do I have?

  I slept in again. I can hear my dad on the phone. He sounds excited about something.

  I wave as I walk past the living room on my way to the kitchen. My mom is at the table, flipping through a travel magazine.

  “Hey, who’s Dad on the phone with?” I ask, making myself a bowl of cereal.

  Her brows come
together as she thinks about it. “A coworker, I think. Don something or other.”

  “Oh.” Since I don’t know who he is, I don’t really care anymore.

  “Look at this hotel, sweetie.” My mom pats the seat of the chair next to her.

  I set my bowl down before sliding in. I make encouraging noises as I eat, so she continues to point out different pictures from the magazine. I am nodding at the well-appointed attached bath of an Australian hotel when my dad walks in.

  My mom and I both look up at him. He’s grinning. I haven’t seen him this happy in…I’m not sure how long.

  He rubs his hands together. “Guess what?”

  Okay, I think I’ll bite. “What?”

  “I just got you a travel guide for the whole trip.”

  “Huh?” I say while my mom says, “What do you mean?”

  My mom and I look at each other before looking back at my dad, who still looks thrilled.

  “Remember Don Burke?”

  My mom nods.

  “His son, Adam, is a photographer.”

  We stare at him.

  He rolls his eyes and gestures with his hands. “A travel photographer.”

  My mouth drops. “You want me to travel around the world with some guy I’ve never met?”

  His smile drops a fraction. “He’s already been to some of the places you want to go to. He knows how to travel overseas.” He looks at his hands and then back up at me. “I thought you’d be happy.”

  Now, I’ve hurt his feelings. “Well, how old is he?”

  “Under thirty, maybe twenty-eight. I know you don’t know him, but it would make me feel so much better about this”—he gestures to the travel magazines on the table—“trip if you went with someone.”

  “But what if I don’t like him?” I cringe at how whiny I sound.

  “I’m sure he’s a nice boy.” My mom pats my arm. “I also like the idea of having someone with you.”

  “How did this happen? The last thing we talked about was the group tours, picking up a new one at each city.”

  My dad takes off his glasses, setting them on the table, before he rubs his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be upset.”

  He didn’t answer my question. I lift my brows.

  “I had a conference call last week. The line was open, and we were just talking while we waited for more people to log on. Beth asked how the trip plans were going. Don was on the call, and he mentioned Adam was planning a trip. The call got started, but afterward, I rang Don to find out where Adam was planning on going. He gave me Adam’s number, and I called him. I wanted to know where he was headed to see if any of your locations would overlap. He was only planning to visit South America.”

  “Then, how is he able to go for the whole trip?”

  His eyes flick to my mom’s. “I, uh…offered to sponsor the rest.”

  “You didn’t.” I shake my head.

  “I thought you’d be happy about this.” He looks miserable.

  I stand, and the legs of my chair protest loudly. “What if we don’t get along? Will I be stuck with him the whole time?”

  “Aubrey…”

  “Dad…” I mimic his tone.

  “Please, honey, think about it.”

  “But—”

  “Sweetie…”

  Great. Now, my mom is in on it.

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “He won’t be a babysitter, Aubrey. He’s only a few years older than you.”

  “Can I think about it? Or is it already decided?”

  He hesitates.

  “Dad! So, I have no say in this?”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything, Aubrey.” He gestures toward my chair. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

  “Don’t want to.”

  “I’m not going to say that Adam has to go, but I wouldn’t know what to tell Don. Will you at least think about it?”

  I roll my eyes. “Ally wanted me to be independent. I don’t like the idea of having someone with me the whole time. I know you said he wouldn’t be a babysitter, but that’s what it would feel like to me.”

  I take a deep breath and try to gauge their expressions. They both look crushed.

  “Ugh, fine. I’ll think about it,” I mumble as I walk out.

  I have zero intentions of actually going along with it. This is my trip. I’m doing this for Ally. She wanted me to do this by myself. If I’m supposed to be gaining my independence, the last thing I need is a babysitter. I just need to figure out a way to convince my parents that I’ll be fine.

  Worst case, maybe I can talk this Adam guy into going somewhere else—without me. I fight the urge to slam my bedroom door, trying to drive home how mature I am. Maybe reverse psychology will work. I could act like I think it’s a great idea, and my dad might change his mind.

  Don’t they realize the money is in an account in my name? The only thing stopping me from leaving tomorrow is the fact that I don’t have my visas or passport yet. That, and the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s just that having someone, a stranger who I might not like, with me the entire time sucks.

  I’m twenty-four, and I still live at home with my parents. Sure, some kids my age move back in with their parents after college. Me? I never moved out.

  I sag onto my bed, tucking my legs under me. I need this. I need to get out of this house and be by myself for a while. I’m tired of walking past Ally’s door every day and her not being there. Sometimes, I still forget, and I go to open her door. Then, I remember. I stand there with my hand on the knob, reality hitting me that she’s gone.

  Maybe the reason I’m so against this Adam guy going is because the only person I would have ever wanted to go with is gone. Adam, whoever he is, makes a sucky replacement.

  I don’t always cry these days when I think about Ally. Sometimes, I can think about good times and smile or even laugh but not today. Today, the hole in my world created by her absence feels too fresh. She would have known what to say to make it better. She always did. No matter how wrong I was, she’d take my side and make my parents see as well.

  I need her so bad. I’d be okay if she could just hug me or talk to me for a single minute. Days like today make me feel like I will never be okay again, like I will always feel like a part of me is missing.

  Reaching for a tissue, I grab the box and peer inside it to see that it’s empty. I head to the bathroom and grab a roll of toilet paper. I blow my nose loudly as I stand in front of the sink.

  My mom is standing outside the door when I walk out. Her face crumples when she sees my tears. Guilt blows through me. I try so hard to keep this from her. I don’t want my grief to trigger hers. I want to be strong and there for her.

  “I didn’t know,” she croaks.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I know.”

  I lean against her, allowing her arms to envelop me. I lift my head to see my dad trudging up the stairs.

  His eyes widen when he sees us. He walks over and asks, “What’s wrong?”

  I answer the simplest way I know how. “I miss her.”

  My mom rubs my back. “I do too, sweetie. I do too.”

  Seeing them, their concern, it finally hits me. They just want me to be safe. I don’t want to argue anymore right now. It doesn’t feel right. Now is about missing Ally.

  “I’m just going to go lie down.”

  I pull back, and my mom’s arms hover before she lets them fall to her sides. My dad tucks her under his arm, and she leans into him. They’re still standing like that, just outside the hall bathroom, when I close my door.

  I set the roll of toilet paper on my bedside table and lie down. My room feels too bright, so I stand back up to adjust the blinds. Once I’m on my bed again, I start my one-sided conversation. This has become a form of comfort for me.

  “I wish you were here,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

  I’ve read all these books about how someone dies, but the people who loved that person will somehow se
nse their presence I will myself to sense her. Something, her perfume, her warmth, anything.

  I want a picture to fall off the wall or a sudden thunderstorm to pop up. If I love her, I should still be able to feel her. It feels wrong that I don’t. If she’s a ghost, does that mean she’s moved on? It still doesn’t feel right that she’s gone. It’s like some cosmic joke. She has to be just waiting in the wings, and then she’ll jump out and say, Gotcha, at the right moment.

  I am prepared to believe in any possibility that doesn’t involve her just being gone. I stare up at the ceiling. My fan is on its lowest setting, doing lazy circles above my head. I watch the blades go around and around.

  “Why don’t you talk to him?” My dad shrugs.

  “I can’t call some guy I don’t know,” I argue.

  “It’s the only way you’ll have a chance to talk before you meet.”

  My forehead wrinkles. “What do you mean, the only chance?”

  He smirks at me. He always does this when he has to repeat something to me. “Don’t you remember? He lives in New York.”

  “In the city?”

  “I think so.”

  My mom sets down her fork and picks up her napkin to wipe her mouth. “How exciting.”

  I push my dinner around on my plate. After my dad catches my eye, I take another bite.

  “We wouldn’t even meet before the trip?” I ask.

  “He has limited funds. I thought if you go to Europe first, you could fly out together from New York.”

  I tilt my head. “You are seriously fine with me traveling around the world with someone you’ve never even met?”

  He takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. He inhales and exhales a few times before he puts his glasses back on and looks at me. “I am not thrilled with the idea of you being out there, alone. Don is a good man, and his son sounds like one as well. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than knowing you’ll be in the care of complete strangers in every country you go to.”

  I hate to admit it, but I can see his logic. “Fine,” I grumble. “As long as he doesn’t boss me around. And what happens if we don’t get along?”