Part 11 (1/2)

”No, babe, I am coming home to you.” Mom says. I see dad's feet come to a stop by my side.

”Really mom?” I ask. ”Are we moving back to New York?” I am surprised by the tinge of disappointment that creeps up in me at the idea of moving back to New York. Who would have thought a big city girl like me would be sad to leave this small town life?

”No, not New York. We've relocated to Denmark now, but I don't know baby. Your dad and I will talk about it. I have to finish my one year contract here first, or find a replacement.” A small piece of me dies again, I want to be with her now. I know how hard it can be to find a replacement. How many people want to live in a makes.h.i.+ft camp for a year and teach women at a remote African tribe how to read and write? It is unpaid work with poor working conditions, and there are constant security threats from warring tribes.

”I thought I'd be happy doing this again, and I am, a little. But I just miss my baby too much.”

”I miss you too, mom. But I don't want you to be unhappy...”

”Nonsense, I am always happy when I'm with you. Even when I want to strangle you.” We all laugh, including dad. She must have heard his voice. ”Is that your dad?” We rarely have video calls because mom has a very weak internet connection. It is why mom did not know that dad is beside me.

”Hi sun-princess!” Dad calls to her.

Now you know where I got my nickname ideas from!

”I hear you are thinking of coming back to us?” He asks, settling his large body on the floor beside me.

”I know it's quite unexpected, and very wishy-washy minded of me. I thought this adventure was what was missing in my life, but now that I am here... I don't know. I think maybe it was you missing. Maybe we should try stay together, as a family, and see what happens...” I feel awkward sitting through the very personal conversation they are having, but dad has his arms around me.

”It could be. So come home, love. Let us try. We could travel together again, and Caroline could join us if she wants, when done with school.” Dad says, kissing the top of my head. ”Maybe we could visit Nepal, or the amazon again.”

”That sounds great,” I say, exaggerating my excitement. I do not think I want to go live among alligators and anacondas. I am not an adventurist like my parents. But I know I would do it for them. I would be miserable every second of it, but I would do it.

”I see you still have a lot to learn about your daughter,” mom says with a chuckle, her voice cracking from the bad connection. ”She'd hate the amazon.”

”Oh,” dad says, squeezing me to himself. ”Chicken, are we?”

”Shut up!” I say playfully, chuckling as he makes chicken sounds at me.

”How is the house getting on?” Mom asks after the laughter subsides.

”We started replacing the windows today, and only two are left.”

”Wow, it's coming along quite fast!” Mom exclaims.

”Yeah. It helps a lot that Caroline brought a boyfriend to help.” I punch dad lightly when he says this.

”You have a boyfriend now?” Mom asks, her voice rising a notch.

”No, not a boyfriend mom. Don't freak out. He is a friend of mine that happens to be a boy. He is my cla.s.smate.”

”Do you like him?”

”Yes I like him, but I don't like like him.” I say, and both mom and dad laugh at my expense.

”Does he like like you?” My mom asks, using my wording to mock me. I let it slip.

”I don't think so. He like's my friend A.M.” I say, and a pang of guilt hits me when I realize that I will not get to call her tonight again, since it is already past 10:00pm.

”Ok, dear. It's late here. Almost midnight, and people are asleep at our camp. I will have to say good bye now.”

”Ok mom, good night!”

”Bye Weigesa. We love you!” Dad says.

”I love you too.” She makes a quick kissing sound and then hangs up. I stare at the screen laying my head on dad's shoulders, not moving from the position.

”Do you really love her dad? I mean really love her?”

”Of course, princess. Why would you even ask that?”

”Then why did you never try to live with us when I was born?”

”But I did, Caroline,” he begins. ”We moved to New York when we discovered that she was pregnant. We got jobs and did the whole happy family for the next three years.

My travelling was her idea. She felt that there was no need for both of us to settle. There were still so many people out there that needed help. It was killing both of us, living our lives in New York, working too many hours, supporting the corporate world and the ruthless system of capitalism - it was killing us princess! It was completely against our principles. One parent was enough to stay with you in a developed country, to give you a great opportunity to choose your own future, a good education and great medical care.

We decided to do it in turns at first, one could stay home for a year or two, and the other could travel. But your mother was doing very well with the gallery. When Thomas offered to sell the gallery we both thought it would be a good idea to buy it. She could then do her own good deed right on the streets of New York, by supporting young artists and selling great art at affordable prices. Art that all can afford, not monopolized by the wealthy cla.s.s.

However, I knew nothing about art, and the gallery was doing so well under your mother's leaders.h.i.+p, so we decided to keep going for two more years, and then two more, and then even more. I think finally your mother just found it too hard to leave you, so we kept on at it.” He leans back against the wall, my head still on his chest, and we stay this way until grandfather walks in on us.

”The bathroom is free,” he says. My dad taps my shoulder, signaling me to take a shower before him. So kissing his cheek, I rise on my feet and shuffle off into the bathroom.

The warm shower relaxes my tense muscles, ma.s.saging my aching limbs. The physical labor of working on the renovations for weeks is beginning to take a toll on me. I shut the water, wrap a towel around me and brush my teeth.

”Good night dad,” I call as I walk to my room. He is seated at the kitchen chewing on some cookies with a gla.s.s of juice in front of him. My stomach growls, but I do not join him. I am too tired to have to brush my teeth again.

”Sleep tight!” He replies. ”And princess, your new painting is breathtaking!”

”Thank you!” I call back with a smile.

I struggle with toweling my hair dry as I pull open the drawer containing my T-s.h.i.+rts. Some of dad's are also in this drawer, because we share closet s.p.a.ce. I pick a long buggy T-s.h.i.+rt full of paint stains. It is moms, one of her favorites.

It must have been dads once, judging by its size. It is really old, threadbare, and has a hole above its right shoulder. Its right sleeve hem has long come loose.

One of my earliest memories is of mom in this T-s.h.i.+rt, falling over midway to the thighs of her bare plush bronze legs. She had held a palette on one hand and a paint brush on the other, standing before a large white canvas. The stereo had been blaring one of her favorite 90's song and she was swaying her hips gently to it in between placing strokes here and there.

”What do you think, baby?”

”I don't know mom? Is it a mountain?” She had laughed lightly at my interpretation. I was about five or six years old then.

I yank the T-s.h.i.+rt up and pull it over my head. I throw the towel to the corner of the bed and snuggle into my beddings, taking a deep sniff of my mom's T-s.h.i.+rt, searching for any trace of her scent. I fall asleep like this, one hand holding the neck of the t-s.h.i.+rt over my nose.

When I see the brown eyes staring deep into mine, the searing pain etched in them that they try to conceal, I awake with a start, almost toppling myself off the bed. I can hardly believe that I had dreamt it. Those eyes had seemed so real, so intense. I could swear some of the pain behind them had tried to seep into me, the eyes begging me to relieve it.