My dad lugged my suitcase onto the doorstep, and he was as reluctant as I was to ring the doorbell. With a grunt, he turned to his side and jabbed his shoulder into the bell. When nothing happened, he knocked against it again, and this time it rang.
“Next summer, you can lay on the couch and do nothing. You can volunteer somewhere, though. I know back home Elizabeth down at the wheelchair association always needs a helping hand. Getting out there, getting real life experience, and helping people. Sounds a little tempting, doesn’t it?”
“It doesn’t sound like the worst idea,” I admitted.
“But the rest of your time? Fair game.”
“Mom doesn’t know that lying around’s my favorite pastime.”
“There will be a dent in her couch. One week in and she’ll figure it out.” We shared a grin.
The door flew open. I had just enough time to grab the handle of my bag before Mom ushered me inside. The door slammed shut behind us. The last time I’d see my dad for two months ended abruptly as she dragged me down the hallway without a word.
The house had changed so much since the last time I’d been here. New paint, barely used furniture, a fresh pinecone smell, and any pictures that might’ve included my dad and me were either in storage or thrown out. There were only pictures of my mom partying with friends, and of the pets she had throughout the years. The rejection clung to me like a cloak that ran all the way down my back and stretched on for miles and miles. My mom sat me on the couch in the sitting room.
“Emma, honey,”—she flopped onto the opposite couch—“as you can see, I’m a little frazzled. We’re going on a cruise for the summer. Exciting, right? Don’t unpack.”
“A cruise?”
“Yes, we’re leaving once our ride gets here.”
“Ri-i-i-ght,” I dragged out. “How long is this cruise for?”
“Two weeks,” she answered. “Then we’ll likely go to another vacation spot for the rest of summer. Spain, maybe? Rome sounds nice, too, right? Maybe we’ll go to both.”
“I guess so.”
She buzzed around gathering toiletries and phone chargers and either dumped them into one of the many suitcases spread across the floor or into her purse, perched on the coffee table. The television blasted the weather report, so it wasn’t too awkward. The lack of conversation wasn’t a big deal because we never made eye contact. In fact, the paucity of interaction made it easier for my brain to pretend there was no one else in the room.
When a car out front honked, my mom and I lugged our stuff outside. The driver was kind enough to help us push it all into the trunk. I spaced out as they chatted with each other, and climbed into the backseat. Mom climbed into the passenger seat instead of into the back with me. What the hell?
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Emma,” the driver said. “You’re going to have a fun summer. Fresh air, a hell of a lot of sun—”
“I suppose Mom gets your services a bunch?” Practicing small talk could be preparation for being out on the open water on a giant floating hotel where I’d be stuck in a tiny room with my mother. “Sure. Maybe once the shock wears off, I’ll be able to process it better.”
“Services . . .” he mumbled.
“Speaking of surprises, Mom, you should have told me when I called you last week about this cruise. Do I need my passport?” The bag on my lap grew heavier. “Have I packed the right stuff? Do we have time to go shopping? Hell, where are we going? It’s a lovely surprise, but it would’ve been nice to be prepared.”
“I have your passport in my purse,” she said.
“Has it not expired yet?” I asked. “I’m almost sure it expired in March?”
“It’s not expired, Emma. Relax, I have everything we need.”
Her calm tone didn’t soothe my rigid muscles. “Where does the boat cruise to? Where are we boarding? Where are we going?”
“I have the itinerary here, one second.” She took her time fetching the pamphlet from her purse. “Here we go. We’re departing from Boston, don’t huff at me, Emma . . .” She deserved it—I could have waited at home for her to pick me up to take me on this grand surprise. “. . . that’s leaving at four. It’s eleven, isn’t it? We have plenty of time.”
“You’re the planner, you tell me,” I said. “Where are we going, though? On the cruise?”
“The Caribbean—St. Thomas, Virgin Islands; St. John’s, Antigua and Barbuda; Bridgetown, Barbados; Castries, St. Lucia; Basseterre, Saint Kitts and Nevis; and Tortola in the Virgin Islands again,” she read from the list. “There will be a few days at sea, that’ll be fun, right?”
The anxious pit in my stomach slowly dissipated, and my head filled with circus music and flashing images of long days exploring different islands with sandy beaches while eating exotic fruit at beautiful resorts.
“I’ve heard nothing from you in a while.” Mom ignored the driver and twisted in her seat to face me. “Any news? Boyfriends I should know about?”
“Still gay, Mom. I suppose the correct term would be lesbian, but gay kind of sits better with me.”
“Emma, please. Not in front of our company.”
“He drives people places—I’m sure he’s heard a lot worse than girls loving girls.”
The driver stared at the road and the atmosphere in the car grew uncomfortable. I couldn’t blame him—being stuck with arguing customers sucked. My mom flicked on the radio and stuck in a random disk. Apparently, listening to Christmas music in June was better than talking about my sexuality.
There had to be something positive about the situation. For one, being on a cruise ship meant constant activities, exploration, and space. The amount of time in a confined space where my mother and I would scream and shout at each other would be minimal. Especially on the days we explored, when hopefully we would be too tired to talk when we returned from whatever adventure awaited. With those thoughts circulating in my mind, sleep soon took over.
The car came to an abrupt stop, jolting me out of my quick, fifteen-
minute slumber—definitely not long enough to have reached any port back in Boston. I felt impatient because I’d already spent enough time in a car that morning, hours that hadn’t been necessary, and I wasn’t prepared for this redundant trip. Gathering the bags around me, I exited the backseat. The car had pulled into the big, wide, grassy parking lot of Camp Mapplewood, the most heinous place on earth. Half asleep and only cluing into where we were now, I didn’t want to believe it.
Maybe it took my mom tilting my chin up so that I saw the sign to get the message. That all-too-familiar sense of foreboding came back with a vengeance. The best way to avoid disappointment was not to expect anything from anyone. Yet my mother had sent my brain into a frenzy of excitement at the prospect of traveling and then snatched it away all too soon. My expectations were dropped into the dirt and stomped on until they were buried deep.