“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 sense 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 bet
ter 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?”
My mom starts to say something but stops. My dad reaches out to hold her hand across the table.
“This trip is about growing up. Sometimes, in life, you will be forced to deal with people you dislike. Part of being a mature, independent grown-up is learning to be diplomatic.”
As long as I live at home, I know he’ll never see me as anything other than his little girl. As excited as I am about exploring new places, I also plan to figure out what I’m going to do once it’s over. I know my parents won’t like the idea, but once I’m back, I plan to move out. This trip will give me time to decide in what direction I plan to go.
Right now, I’m not sure whether I should go back to school or try to get a job. Nothing glamorous. Maybe I could waitress or be a nanny.
When I was in high school, I thought I wanted to be a doctor. I’ve heard stories about people who go on to medical school after being sick themselves or taking care of a sick loved one. Watching Ally had the opposite effect on me. I want nothing to do with anything remotely related to the medical field
After six years of part-time community college, I still don’t have my degree. If I go back to school, I’ll have to pick a major, which is kind of hard to do since I’m not sure what direction I want to go in.
I realize my parents are waiting for me to respond. “So, when should I call him?”
My dad’s face breaks out into a wide grin. “Tomorrow should be good. It’s probably too late tonight with the time difference.”
After dinner, I hang back in the kitchen to rinse our plates and load the dishwasher. My parents go into the living room. Once I’m finished, I go to join them. I pause just outside the doorway when I hear them talking. I lean against the wall and listen.
“I’m worried about her,” my mom says quietly.
“Aubrey will be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Have you thought about it?”
I hear her sigh.
“Do you really think it’s necessary?”
“I do.”
I wonder what they’re talking about. I lean closer to the doorway and cringe when the floorboards beneath me let out a loud creak. Knowing they had to have heard that, I walk into the room and sit down, trying my best to look innocent.
They drop whatever they were talking about once I’m in the room. They talk about my dad’s job while I flip through a travel magazine. Ever since Ally’s letter was read, our house has been buried in them. Most of them come out only once a month. How my mom has acquired so many, I’ll never know. I read an article about extreme travelers who hike and camp.
Cringing, I look over at my mom and dad. “This Adam guy won’t want to camp, will he? I was hoping to stay in hotels.”
My dad gives me a funny look before laughing. “You won’t have to camp, honey.”
I’m not sure why my question is so funny. Is he implying that I can’t camp? I can camp, I think. I even briefly considered backpacking on this trip until I remembered I prefer air conditioning, soft mattresses, and hot showers to the great outdoors. It’s just good to know the plan of staying in hotels isn’t changing now that this guy will be with me.
I go back to the article I was reading. There are so many things to consider when traveling overseas. Laundry is one of them. I keep seeing ads for quick-dry underwear that you hand-wash versus finding a Laundromat. It might be a good idea to purchase some. I’ll just wait until my dad is not around to talk about it.
I need to figure out what clothes to pack that will be good for the whole trip. Depending on weather, we will spend the first part of our travels north of the equator, and we will move south just in time for the summer down there.
I read until the words start to get blurry, and then I head to bed. After I’ve brushed my teeth and washed my face, I’m not as tired as I was downstairs.
I turn on my laptop, so I can Google Adam. His name is fairly common. It’s a mistake to click on images. There’s a comedian, a few guys in the military, and a bunch of mug shots.
I hope that he isn’t any of those before I add photographer to the search field. A Twitter handle pops up. I don’t personally tweet, but the link takes me to a profile page that I think might be his. His profile picture is not a close-up, and it’s him holding a camera in front of his face. Clever.
I shut down my laptop. I figure I can try to Internet-stalk him another day.
Chapter 6
Why am I so nervous?
I hear the ringing in my ear as I look over at my dad. He’s sitting at his desk. My mom is sitting on the sofa next to me.
“Hello?”
I gulp. “Hi. May I please speak with Adam Burke?”
“I’m Adam.”
I pause.
He says, “Hello?”
“I’m Aubrey Kline. My dad thought it’d be a good idea for us to talk.” I cringe as I say each word, not understanding why I feel so awkward.
“Okay.”
He sounds bored, and now that I’m actually on the phone with him, I have no idea what to say. I roll the side of my bottom lip between my teeth and rub my tongue back and forth across it as I shrug at my parents.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, he says, “Is there anything you wanted to talk about, Aubrey?”
“Um…” It’s like my brain is empty—well, not entirely empty. I suddenly have a Lady Gaga song that I don’t like stuck in my head. I can’t talk about that.
I panic and hand the phone to my mom before dropping my head in my hands. What is wrong with me?
“Hi, Adam,” she says brightly. “This is Claire Kline, Aubrey’s mom. She, um…had to run.”
I close my eyes. I had to run? Run where? Not a great way to show my parents how mature I am. I don’t even want to think about what Adam is thinking of this call. I tilt my head to look at my mom. She doesn’t talk long, and she sets the phone in her lap when she’s done.
“What was that about, Aubrey?”
“I don’t know. I got nervous and froze,” I groan.
She rubs my back. “He seemed like a nice young man. You have no reason to be nervous, hon.”
We both look over at my dad, who is trying hard not to laugh.
“Not cool, Dad,” I grumble.
My mom and dad just look at each other before they both start laughing.
“It wasn’t that funny.” I cross my arms over my chest and sink back into the couch.
“I’m not laughing,” my mom argues despite that she is in fact laughing.
“Right.” I glare at her. “If I’m socially awkward, I only have you two to blame, so keep on laughing.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” My dad coughs and swallows any lingering laughs.
“Why do you think you froze?” My mom leans her shoulder against mine.
I shake my head and look up at the ceiling. “I wanted to make a good impression, and then I just got nervous and couldn’t think of anything to say. He has to think I’m mental.”
“Maybe he just thinks you were busy.”
I give her a look. “Busy enough to call him and then not talk? Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Or,” my dad interrupts, “he will think what I have known for some time. Women are crazy.”
“Drew,” My mom exclaims.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” He smirks.
My mom and I look at each other and shrug. It’s hard to argue.
“Not like you’re sane.” She huffs.
He stands and walks over to kiss her forehead. “Never said I was.”
I get up and head toward the kitchen, preferring not to be around them when they’re acting mushy. I grab an apple and go out to the backyard to eat it.
***
My travel papers arrived in the mail yesterday.
My dad has been
emailing back and forth with Adam about booking flights and hotels. I’ll be flying to New York in two days. I’m staying that night at Adam’s apartment. Then, we’re flying out to London the next morning.
My bags are basically packed. I have one giant rolling suitcase and a solar backpack. My mom has gone a bit overboard with catalog shopping. I have quick-dry underwear, a handheld water purifier, a plug adapter, a baggage scale, and any other random gadget that will supposedly make traveling easier.
My dad also upgraded my cell phone to an international plan and loaded a bunch of travel apps on it.
There’s only one thing I care about in my luggage—a small wooden box with Celtic carvings on the sides. A smaller plastic container fits inside it. Inside that container are Ally’s ashes. This will always be her trip, and I need her with me.
My mom cried when I asked if I could have some of her ashes. My dad, ever the planner, logged on to our airline’s website to make sure it was legal to fly with them. Once he was able to confirm it was, my mom ordered the box to hold them.
For me, the only thing that matters on this trip is that Ally makes it to the places she dreamed of.
Now that most of the trip plans are done, my mom and dad have more time to themselves. My dad is cutting back his hours at work. Before Ally got sick, he was looking forward to retiring. Full retirement is on hold for now because their finances took a hit from taking care of Ally. Part of me feels guilty for spending money on this trip, but my parents refused to take any of Ally’s insurance money.
My mom is volunteering at a local animal shelter. My dad gets nervous every time she mentions bringing a puppy home. It’s only a matter of time before she does it.
I spend most of my time on the computer. For practice, I’ve printed out common phrases for every country we’re traveling to. I also keep checking the hotel websites and looking at pictures of the suites.
My dad didn’t like the idea of Adam and me sharing a room, but he didn’t want me to be alone either. He settled on booking us suites or rooms with a connecting doorway for most of the trip. We won’t get any of the room numbers until we check in, so I won’t know what kind of views we’ll have until we get there.
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