Nina continues: “That’s another reason why this is a good time to sell the house. We need to make sure we can cover his expenses going forward.”
“What about his pension? And social security?”
“They’re modest. They won’t pay for a home or a significant amount of in-home care, should he eventually need that.”
I hadn’t considered any of this, but it all seems surmountable. “I’ll get a job. I can find something remote, or even local. You know me. I’m scrappy. I can always find work.”
“That’s true.”
“I’m not saying this will be our long-term solution, but let me give it a try. If things aren’t working by this time next year, we can sell up and move him into a home. At least we will have given him one more year in the house that he loves.”
Nina is quiet as she considers my idea, then she says, “You’re really ready to leave the city? What about Actualize?”
“I just quit.”
“You just…”
“I know this is sudden,” I explain before she can protest. “But I’m not like you. I don’t make decisions bythinking.”
“Clearly. And we love that about you, but…”
“But what?”
“You know you can’t save Dad, right? There’s no chance of a happy ending here.”
“That’s not what I’m after.”
“Whatareyou after?”
I think:I want a new life. I want to rebuild myself from the ground up. I want to return to the place where things went wrong so that I can make them right.
But before I can answer, Nina proceeds. “I hope you’re not doing this out of some feeling of obligation or heroism.”
“It’s not that complicated, and I’m not that altruistic,” I say, finally finding the simplest and truest explanation. “I just want to be with my dad.”
Chapter 7
It is easier to leave New York than I would have thought. The city I grew up in seems to spit me out with disconcerting ease. Even those with whom my life is most intertwined don’t put up a fight. After her initial shock, Gemma wishes me well and sends me off with yet another linen tote bag full of free samples, including a vial of snail mucin (a fancy term for slime) that she swears will “change my life.” Dylan says he’ll miss me and we should leave things “open.” He also reminds me that his lease is ending and asks if he can take over my room as soon as I vacate it. Olivia and Tasha do an appropriate amount of pouting, but eventually they accept my decision and cede my room to Dylan. (“We’ll evict him if you ever decide to come back,” Olivia assures me.)
The only person who kicks up a fuss is my mother, and I should have seen that coming.
“Why in theworldwould you do that?” she asks when I call to break the news. These days, she lives in London with her second husband, George. At sixty-two, she is still working full tilt at a major management consulting firm. “After everything you went through in that godforsaken town? Besides, you’re acitygirl. You haveambitions. Not to mention a fabulous job, finally.”
When I landed at Actualize, my mother seemed to let out a breath that she had been holding ever since I quit school. Not only is she a fan of the company’s face-tightening serums and plush bath towels, but she thinks Gemma is a visionary who I would do well to emulate.“That woman is going places” is a refrain I’ve heard more times than I’d like.
“Nina did it,” I say. “She took care of him for years.”
“Yes, but Nina is…” She pauses, and I wait to be offended. “Nina is on a clear track. You have yet to establish yours.”
“Maybe my track leads back to Locust.”
My mother sighs. “You have no obligation to Arthur, you know.”
“It’s not about obligation,” I reply. “I just feel… called.”
“Called?To what? To eschew civilization?” Her distaste for Catwood Pond has only grown in the years since she left it once and for all. Despite my father’s abiding love for the camp, my mother never warmed to it. She always found it too rustic and remote. She prefers cities, action, movement, noise. After growing up in a gray Midwestern steel town, she always wanted a big, busy life—the kind that is always just out of reach, but keeps you grasping nonetheless. For the past few years, I have tried to live the life she always encouraged. But now, I want the opposite.
“I don’t understand,” she says.
