“Get rid of what?”
“The glasses.”
“Oh, no, sweetie,” Mom says. “We’re just packing.”
Before I can ask what she means bypacking, Ollie returns to the kitchen with my dad at his side.
“There’s my girl!” Dad says. “How’s that dinghy of yours?”
“Oh, you know, still floating,” I say.
“This guy’s all right, you know,” Dad says. “Pretty sure he just saved all of us from having to order takeout.” He claps Ollie on the shoulder, the one that took the brunt of our fall earlier, and Ollie grimaces.
“I worry about you on that thing,” Mom says to me. “Do you know how many stories I’ve seen on Facebook about boats like yours stuckout in the middle of the ocean because of food poisoning? Hundreds of people, sick to death. Even the captain.”
I roll my eyes. “Those are cruise ships, Mom. And really? Sick todeath?”
“I just think it’s time you found a job that’ll let you settle down.”
“Mom,” I say.
“What? Is it a crime to want to see my baby? You’re gone half the year!”
“It’s only four months,” I say. We have some version of this conversation a few times a year. Her reasons for why I should quit my job only get more and more ridiculous with time.
“I promise I won’t give Nina food poisoning, Mrs.Lejeune,” Ollie says.
My mother presses her hand over her heart and turns to him. “Oh, Oliver, I didn’t meanyou.”
“Well he’s the only one who cooks on the yacht, Mom,” I say.
“I guess that’s one less thing to worry about. Though there’s still sharks, storms, and pirates.”
Pirates!I catch Ollie’s eye, but he nearly bursts out laughing and has to look away. Time to steer the conversation away from work.
“Where are you guys going?” I say.
“What do you mean?” Dad asks.
“Mom said you’re packing. A BYOB vacation I get, but not BYOD.” Dad scrunches his eyebrows, and I explain. “Bring your owndishware.”
“We’re not going on vacation,” Mom says.
“Then why are you packing?”
There’s a moment of silence. Mom shoots Dad a questioning look.
“We’re moving!” he says, clapping his hands together as if this is some long-awaited announcement.
“What?”
“Surely we told you,” Mom says.
“Moving... where? Didn’t you just pay off the mortgage, like, three years ago?” I’m clearly missing something. Mom loves this house. My parents have lived here my entire life.
“We’re only going across town,” Dad says. “About ten minutes from the two of you, actually.”
“We’re renting this cute little town house,” Mom says. “You’ll love it.”
