I turn away from them and run up the stairs, hoping they don't see me crying as I do so.
When I get to my room, I don't go to my desk. I just fling myself on my bed and start crying. And when a little speck of a popcorn kernel presses into my cheek, I'm reminded of Dylan sitting here, eating my snacks and having the same reaction as my parents.
Why does no one believe that I can -- and want -- go to Hawaii?
And I cry even harder.
4
Some time later, there's a knock at my bedroom door.
"Go away," I mutter, rolling on my side so I face the opposite wall, away from the doorway. Of course, my intruder doesn't listen, and I hear the creak of the door as it opens.
"Gwen?"
It's my dad. And hearing the hurt in his voice only hurts me even more.
I've never been a really good rebel. I’ve always had straight As and always strove to be perfect in school. I’ve never defied my parents before and this just feels like something that could shatter our relationship, and I don't want that.
I don't want to start my adult life severed from the only real family I have. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and my cousins are all older than me. I don't connect with them, and I know that I would only be a burden to any aunt or uncle if I reached out to them.
No, I want to keep my parents close. Make them proud of me.
I peer over my shoulder at my dad, and he looks just as broken as I feel.
"Can we talk?" he asks, coming over to me.
Mutely, I sit up and draw my legs close to my chest. I give him a nod, and he takes a seat at my desk. He lets out a long sigh, looking up at the ceiling, and then looks at me.
"Your mother and I have been talking."
"About how crazy I am for wanting to do something different with my life?" I hate how childish I sound right now.
“Gwen, it's not that you're crazy. Your mother and I are happy that you want to spread your wings and fly. Trust us. Proud of you.” He sounds so sincere when he says that.
As I sit here, I feel like they are proud of me, even after what happened downstairs.
“It's just such a huge change for you, honey,” Dad continues. “Moving to Hawaii is not like moving to another city or another state. When you go to Hawaii you will be on an island, by yourself. And you won't know anyone there.”
“I know that.”
He smiles at me. “I'm sure you do, but knowing it and experiencing it are two different things.”
I suck in a deep breath and nod. “I know. But it just feels right.”
Dad watches me for a moment, his eyes searching me like he's looking for an answer. Finally, he sucks in a deep breath, his shoulders rising with it, and he says, “Is this what you really want, honey?”
For a moment, I think about it. I really, really think about it. Going to the University of Hawaii would be a huge step in my life, one that I couldn't exactly back away from.
But something is calling me out there. Something that I can't quite explain. Maybe kismet. Maybe fate.
But I know I am supposed to go there. So I meet my dad's eyes, and I nod.
“I do, Dad. I really, really do.”
He regards me silently. And then averts his gaze. “You have always been strong,” he says softly. “Even when you were little, when you set your mind to something you did it. And I have no doubt that moving to Hawaii would be exactly the same.” He looks at me finally and pats my leg. “If you really want to go to Hawaii, then that sounds like it's the right thing to do.”
I look at him, and I realize that tears are filling my eyes. “Really, Dad?”
He nods. “Really, really.”
Before I know what I'm doing, I rush forward and wrap my arms around him. He holds me back, and for a moment, it's as though I'm a little kid again, hugging my daddy.
It also doesn't escape me that when I'm in college, in Hawaii, I can't do this as much as I want to. And I have to be okay with that.
We stay like that for what must be a few minutes. Time ticks by too quickly and too slowly for us. But after a while, I do sit back and look at him, brushing tears away from my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice rough.
“No need to thank me,” he says. “Just do what you are meant to do. But, Gwen,” he says, spearing me with a look. “Just remember what happened in Coco Beach. Don't get in over your head. And if something doesn't feel right, don't do it.”
His words sound simple enough. But I can sense that there's something more to them. Like he's warning me and not just in the way of a parent telling their kid not to do the crazy college things that everyone does.
There is something more to his words, warning me of something bigger than that. And I have no idea what it is.
I give him a smile. “Don't worry, Dad. I will be careful. After all, I'm afraid of the ocean. What other trouble can I get into?”
Dad laughs. “Now I don't need to remind you -- again -- but you do know what an island is, right? All that water...”
I smirk. “At least you know I will be studying a lot.”
Dad laughs. “You’d better. We won’t let you go otherwise.”
5
I’ve never been afraid of flying.
Granted, I haven’t been on that many planes, but falling out of the sky seems like a better option than drowning or being eaten by a shark or an underwater monster.
Then again, perhaps I haven’t flown enough to learn how to be afraid of it. One trip was to Coco Beach for that family reunion, and we know how that turned out.
The other times have just been for a few vacations across the country, nothing too big or too much of a long haul.
But it is something different when you are moving thousands of miles away and you won’t be coming back for a long time.
I sit in San Francisco International Airport with my dad, waiting for our connecting flight to Honolulu. The flight we had from St. Louis International Airport wasn't bad, but then again, it was short.
It also didn't go over the open ocean like this next leg will.
I look out the window, seeing our plane docked and ready to be boarded. It’s huge, much larger than the puddle jumper we arrived here on. It seems a little comforting that it looks like I’ll be flying over the ocean in a miniature city.
Still, for some reason, my heart is hammering in my chest.
“Are you okay, Gwen?” my dad asks me. He doesn't seem okay himself. His pallor is a little off and he’s sweating, even though the air is slightly chilly in the terminal.
I give him a wan smile. “I'm all right,” I say. “I just can't believe it's finally happening.”
Truly, I can’t. I’m moving to Hawaii. Dad is coming with me to get settled in, and in two weeks, I’ll be starting my first classes at the University of Hawaii. I have four suitcases that have been checked and are hopefully being loaded onto the plane. Other than that, I have my two carry-ons and Dad has his carry-ons which are mostly my clothes.
And that's everything I’m bringing. My entire life squeezed into a few bags.
It’s surreal.
The last few months since I made my decision to go to the University of Hawaii has gone by too quickly.