In less than three weeks, everything about my life has been turned on its head. Before I started following Grandma Frannie’s advice, I had a boyfriend, a stable job, and a lifetime of deciding what to make for dinner every night stretching out in front of me. I was a coupon clipper. A woman of routine. Now I’m single, possibly unemployed, and living in a dorm room on a tiny island with a squat toilet. It’s fantastic!
“You better know what you’re doing!” I say to the ceiling, feeling closer to Grannie in this moment of madness than I have since she died.
Can I really just do this? Am I allowed to cosplay as Adventure Junie and make huge, life-altering decisions without consulting anyone else? It’s only a month, a drop in the bucket of time, but what kind of person just abandons their life to volunteer at a turtle rescue halfway across the world?
Someone having a mental breakdown, my thoughts offer, cheerily.
Someone looking for meaning, I push back, gently.
Some part of me is still waiting for a Real Adult to step in and drag me back home. Saving sea turtles is not part of the five year plan. But what has all my planning ever done for me?
In a moment of indecision, I do what I always do: call my parents.
For a tense moment, I don’t think they’ll answer. It’s well after dinner time there already. I settle into the scratchy sheets of my bunk and lean against the concrete wall until Mom’s face lights up the screen, way too close.
“Hey Mom,” I say, a wave of comfort washing over me as she adjusts the angle so that I’m not looking primarily up her nose.
“Hey honey, are you back already?” There’s some grumbling and shuffling of the phone. “Your father’s here too. And Lisa and Baby Luna.” Mom’s overwhelming pride at “finally” becoming a Grandma needles me even through all the miles between us.
“Lisa?” I’m surprised. I’ve started putting my phone on Do Not Disturb since she can’t be bothered to look up the time difference and I’d forgotten about her unusual calls. Seeing her in Eastern Pines is a rarity, let alone at our parents’ house.
“Hello.” She waves awkwardly from behind Mom and Dad. Effortlessly cool with her long, purple hair and septum ring, my heart squeezes at the sight of her cradling my gorgeous little niece.
I want to ask a million questions. Why is Lisa home? What are they doing up so late? Do they miss me? Are they mad at me? But first I have to put on my big girl panties and admit what I’ve done.
“As you can perhaps tell by my background, I am not currently on a plane back home.” I choose my words carefully, showing off the drab walls of the dorm room, the piles of the other volunteers’ luggage, and the towels drying on bed frames. It all looks a little sadder on the phone screen than it feels in real life so I quickly turn the camera back on me.
There is a collective gasp and cross talk as they fire questions at me and chat amongst themselves. Something in me softens at the chaos. My family doesn’t know how to do anything in half measures.
“Your father would like to know where you are and when you’re planning on coming back—and I have to say, I would also—”
“Mom, if you’d let me get a word in, I’d tell you. I’m still on Gili Telu. I’ve decided to stay for another few weeks.”
Another explosion of noise. One of the dogs starts yapping, adding to the cacophony. I can only pick out a few words, but I understand the gist. This isn’t like me. They can barely compute.
“Did something happen to your flight, sweetheart? Should we call the embassy?” Dad’s face takes over the screen, his brows knitted with worry. “Do you need money?” he adds, quieter.
“I am perfectly safe and I do not need money,” I say, enunciating each word clearly and hoping to be heard over the babble of sound. “I’ve decided to use some of my inheritance to extend my trip.” I quickly explain about scuba diving and the sanctuary. I want to tell them what it’s like to breathe underwater, to feel like I’m uncovering new layers to myself—but the conversation is quickly unraveling.
Finally, Mom relents. “Well as long as you and David stick together honey, I guess that’s alright. We really miss you though.”
My stomach drops. “Mom, David and I broke up. I told you Eva came with me instead.”
“I know, but Lisa said you were back together. He’s not there with you?”
“No, he’s not here with me. Why would she say that?”
My parents both turn to Lisa who mumbles something inaudible and refuses to look at the camera. Trust my baby sister to show up and stir the pot for no reason at all.
“David and I are not together. My being here has nothing to do with him,” I say, feeling my blood grow hot. I don’t want to talk about David. We were talking aboutme.
“If you say so, honey. I’m proud of you either way.”
“You’re… proud of me?” I’d been half-convinced they were going to demand I get on the next plane home, so this stuns me. I expected surprise, I was hoping to avoid anger or those stomach-churning frowns of disappointment—but proud? I’d just set my life on fire. Is it Opposite Day?
“Do you remember that trip we took to Canada to see the Falls? You were probably in first grade. Do you remember that, Lisa? You were just a baby.” She turns toward my sister who is rocking Luna, pacing in the background. I hear a flat, “No,” before Mom continues.
“Anyway, you got your first passport stamp that day and you told everyone we met that you were going to fill every page. You asked for a map of the world for your birthday that year and you made a list of your top ten destinations. I always thought you might do a semester abroad or something.”
