“I love going to Florida,” I say, my gut twisting. Every other year, I’ve been able to just hop into the cool interior of the company car and get whisked to the airport without having all of this drama to deal with. I’m so ready to shed the complications that come with being the eldest Jepsen daughter in Michigan and embrace the simplicity of my life as the baby of the Beloise family in Florida. “Going to see Dad and Dani and Duke is exactly what I want to do.”
“AJ,” Mom says, drawing my name out. “Seriously? C’mon, sweetie. In another lifetime, I lived in that poky little backwater town. It’s a dead end. There’s nothing for a bright, intelligent young person there. Don’t get me wrong—it’s great to visit with family, but you’re only young once.” She slides off the vanity and stands in front of me, smelling light and flowery with an undernote of vanilla. “You don’t need to waste your entire summer working in a bait shop and drinking cheap beer on the beach with a bunch of local kids who will never leave that one-horse town.” She smooths the collar of my blazer. “You’re destined for bigger and better, sweetie. Don’t let anything stop you from going after what you want. I almost let that happen once. It’s easy to lose sight of who you are when you’re always busy dealing with other people’s problems.”
My mom kisses my cheek. I hug her, annoyance and affection making me hold on extra tight.
“I know, Mom,” I say with a sigh. I’m sure she’d be shocked to realize I actually do agree with her advice one hundred percent—which is why I have to leave Michigan to head to Florida every summer, for the entire summer.
We head back downstairs. Peter already has the car started, and Lilli hands Mom a travel mug with her smoothie in it. Marnie slumps into the back seat, a pair of dark sunglasses shading her face. Despite Lilli’s adamant promise, we wind up singing along to an old station Mom picks with lots of Gwen Stefani and Sheryl Crow. It’s totally fun, even if I do sound like a bullfrog. Even Marnie joins in with her rich contralto when “All I Wanna Do” comes on, which was one of her favorite songs when she was a kid. I watch the flat, cool, green suburban yards give way to alternatingly beautiful and ugly stretches of Detroit cityscape. We stop for sliders at the old horse-stable restaurant, and, before I know it, we’re at the airport, I’ve checked in, and I’m ready to go through security.
“Well, this is it.” I hate having to say big, emotional good-byes at airports, but it looks like I don’t have much of a choice. I hug Peter first.
“Think about the internship, okay?” He leans in a little closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “Talk to your dad about it. Trust me, he’ll understand.” He gives me a wink. “I love you, and I miss you already, kiddo.” His voice goes thick, and I soak in his reassuring, solid hug for an extra few seconds.
Mom is next. “I left the ticket open-ended. If you decide to head back earlier, say the word, and we’ll get you wherever you want to go. I still think the internship is the best idea, but there are always last-minute camp or travel opportunities. I hate to see you waste a high-school summer. You don’t get many, and they go by so fast. Trust me, you’ll look back and regret it.” I kiss her soft cheek and move away quickly, before she can lecture me any more.
“Thank you for talking to me about things this morning,” Lilli says quietly, rubbing her golden head on my shoulder and sniffing so deeply, I wonder if she’s smelling my perfume for comfort, the way I still sniff Mom’s. She turns to me with a huge smile, and my heart flip-flops with love for my little rising star of a sister. “You seriously made me feel a million times better. Also I never gave you back your sunglasses, but is it okay if I wear them this summer?” I roll my eyes and tell sweet, conniving Lilli that of course she can snag my favorite sunglasses, hug her tight, and wish her luck. I take a long look at her face, still round-cheeked and starry-eyed, and I hope that, no matter what comes at her this summer, I still see that sparkle next time we’re together.
Marnie is last. “I should have packed myself into one of your suitcases,” she gripes.
“You’d hate it in Florida. Way too hot and humid,” I assure her. I hug her, feeling super guilty for our fight when she grips onto me like she’s drowning. “Hey, volleyball camp will be awesome. I promise.”
“You hate volleyball,” she says into my hair.
“But you love it. And you’ll meet cool people. You’ll play all day long. It will be amazing. And I’ll see you in a few weeks. Okay?” I pull back and watch her face twist. Of course nothing with Marnie can ever be easy.
“Actually, it’s not really okay, but what choice do I have?” She crosses her arms. “I guess I’ll endure it.”
“Grow up, Marnie,” I hiss.
That’s the last thing I say directly to my sister before Peter gently reminds me of the time and my family waves as one bunch, three teary, smiling faces and Marnie’s stubborn frown.
I don’t look back as I wait my turn. I picture my family already piled in the car, jamming to some sweet tunes as they drive back to our house, and I hope that’s exactly what they’re doing.
“Adelaide,” the TSA attendant says. It’s a little weird hearing my full name. “That was my grandmother’s name!”
I smile. I’m polite. I’m polished. For a few more minutes, I hover closer to the AJ end of my spectrum, but a quick trip to the nearest bathroom changes that. I choose a stall and carefully tug off my binding, sophisticated outfit. The soft leggings hug my thighs, the sports bra and tank tops let my shoulders relax, and I shake out my hair and head to the mirror to do my full face of makeup.
Cat eyes, deep lipstick, false lashes, contouring, bronzing—it takes twenty-five minutes and makes me look older, sharper, and more than a little intimidating. An older woman huffs when she has to choose a sink farther from the paper towels because I have my things spread all over the counter. AJ would have apologized and shifted for her. Della gives her the stink eye and continues to get a little brasher and a little less serious with every stroke of the makeup brushes.
By the time I’m done, I barely recognize myself, and I love it. I love these moments in the in-between, where I’m not quite AJ and not exactly Della. When I don’t have to lie to anyone.
Right now I’m like a giant, molting dragon, and my mood feels exactly like what I imagine a beast shedding its too-tight skin would feel. I pointedly ignore the overeager lady seated next to me who’s trying to lure me into checking out her cat’s Instagram account; I switch off my phone after scanning the first few mopey texts from Marnie, knowing full well they won’t stop for the duration of the flight; and I sit still and focus on becoming a bigger, bolder version of myself.
4
Welcome Home, Della