Chapter One
I have two suitcases, one backpack and a barking West Highland terrier in one of those dog-carrying bags movie stars made cool. Daisy started barking when she got into the car, and she hasn’t stopped since. What if she barks all the way to New York? That will make me popular on the flight.
“Have you got everything?” Mom rifles through her backpack. “I thought I had gum in here for you.”
“I have gum, Mom.”
“Chew this on the way up and down.” She hands me a pack of sugar-free bubble gum. “It’ll help with your ears.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks.” Their luggage is stacked in a teetering pile and looks like it’s about to collapse. “How much time do you have?”
“An hour or so before check-in.” She checks and rechecks their passports. Daisy barks and barks.
They’re going to Thailand to build a school. I’m going to New York to stay with my sister for the summer. Of course, I wish I was going to Thailand, but it’s my parents’ thirtieth non-wedding (they’re common-law) anniversary and that’s what they chose to do for it. I was not invited. When they announced their plans, I just assumed I’d be going along with them, and they just assumed that I wouldn’t be. For three months I thought I was going to spend the summer in Thailand, only to find out a month ago that I was going to spend the summer in Brooklyn, with my spacey older sister and her failed-actor boyfriend. What fun.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Dad puts an arm across my shoulder. He’s the one who finally realized the misunderstanding and filled me in. I wasn’t impressed, to say the least. “Doing okay, kiddo?”
And Daisy barks and barks and barks.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“I know you’re upset about this.” He squats to peer at Daisy in her little carrying case. “Blessed creature, be quiet!” He stands again. Daisy barks and barks and barks. “But I also know that you understand how important it is for your mother and me to share this experience together, as a couple.”
My dad, professional therapist.
“I know, Dad.”
“Some things in life are best experienced solely with your life partner, to strengthen intimacy and create shared memories upon which to build a deeper love,” he says.
I roll my eyes. What else do you do when you’re seventeen and your father says something like that?
“Yeah, Dad. Got it.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead. “You are my brilliant star.”
Mom is back from the very expensive airport store with more goodies for my flight.
“Tissues, trashy magazines, mini sewing kit—you never know—crossword puzzle book, hard candies. I couldn’t find any sugar- free. Be sure to brush extra hard.”
I stuff them into my backpack, which is already bursting with all of the goodies she’d packed for me at home.
“And an umbrella.” She hands me a super- compact little thing, hot pink. “We forgot to pack one.”
“Joy will have umbrellas,” I say.
“Your sister...” Dad says.
“Your sister...” Mom says.
“And that Bruce...” Dad says.
“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” Mom shakes her head.
“Okay, okay. I’ll try to fit it in.” I jam it into my pack. Anything to get them off the subject of the not-so-happy couple.
“Sorry about the color,” Mom says.
“Doesn’t matter.” I’ll never open that umbrella over my head, but I love my mother enough to not say so. “Thanks.”
Dad checks his watch. It’s his first watch, ever. He bought it especially for their trip, and it has a GPS and all kinds of high-tech gadgets on it. Now, I love him to neurons, but my “Mr. Tie-Dye T-Shirt, Hemp Shorts and Sandals dad” is the last human on earth who should be allowed near anything high-tech or remotely electronic.
They’re taking a satellite phone too, and a laptop, and I can only hope that my mother will not let him near any of it. Every once in a while, he decides he’s going to become a technical genius—like now,
I have two suitcases, one backpack and a barking West Highland terrier in one of those dog-carrying bags movie stars made cool. Daisy started barking when she got into the car, and she hasn’t stopped since. What if she barks all the way to New York? That will make me popular on the flight.
“Have you got everything?” Mom rifles through her backpack. “I thought I had gum in here for you.”
“I have gum, Mom.”
“Chew this on the way up and down.” She hands me a pack of sugar-free bubble gum. “It’ll help with your ears.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks.” Their luggage is stacked in a teetering pile and looks like it’s about to collapse. “How much time do you have?”
“An hour or so before check-in.” She checks and rechecks their passports. Daisy barks and barks.
They’re going to Thailand to build a school. I’m going to New York to stay with my sister for the summer. Of course, I wish I was going to Thailand, but it’s my parents’ thirtieth non-wedding (they’re common-law) anniversary and that’s what they chose to do for it. I was not invited. When they announced their plans, I just assumed I’d be going along with them, and they just assumed that I wouldn’t be. For three months I thought I was going to spend the summer in Thailand, only to find out a month ago that I was going to spend the summer in Brooklyn, with my spacey older sister and her failed-actor boyfriend. What fun.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Dad puts an arm across my shoulder. He’s the one who finally realized the misunderstanding and filled me in. I wasn’t impressed, to say the least. “Doing okay, kiddo?”
And Daisy barks and barks and barks.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“I know you’re upset about this.” He squats to peer at Daisy in her little carrying case. “Blessed creature, be quiet!” He stands again. Daisy barks and barks and barks. “But I also know that you understand how important it is for your mother and me to share this experience together, as a couple.”
My dad, professional therapist.
“I know, Dad.”
“Some things in life are best experienced solely with your life partner, to strengthen intimacy and create shared memories upon which to build a deeper love,” he says.
I roll my eyes. What else do you do when you’re seventeen and your father says something like that?
“Yeah, Dad. Got it.”
“I know you do, sweetheart.” He kisses my forehead. “You are my brilliant star.”
Mom is back from the very expensive airport store with more goodies for my flight.
“Tissues, trashy magazines, mini sewing kit—you never know—crossword puzzle book, hard candies. I couldn’t find any sugar- free. Be sure to brush extra hard.”
I stuff them into my backpack, which is already bursting with all of the goodies she’d packed for me at home.
“And an umbrella.” She hands me a super- compact little thing, hot pink. “We forgot to pack one.”
“Joy will have umbrellas,” I say.
“Your sister...” Dad says.
“Your sister...” Mom says.
“And that Bruce...” Dad says.
“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce.” Mom shakes her head.
“Okay, okay. I’ll try to fit it in.” I jam it into my pack. Anything to get them off the subject of the not-so-happy couple.
“Sorry about the color,” Mom says.
“Doesn’t matter.” I’ll never open that umbrella over my head, but I love my mother enough to not say so. “Thanks.”
Dad checks his watch. It’s his first watch, ever. He bought it especially for their trip, and it has a GPS and all kinds of high-tech gadgets on it. Now, I love him to neurons, but my “Mr. Tie-Dye T-Shirt, Hemp Shorts and Sandals dad” is the last human on earth who should be allowed near anything high-tech or remotely electronic.
They’re taking a satellite phone too, and a laptop, and I can only hope that my mother will not let him near any of it. Every once in a while, he decides he’s going to become a technical genius—like now,
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