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Mom: How is the trip going, darling? I have more details on New York when you’re ready.
Jess: Why aren’t you talking to me?
Jess: UGH! Stupid boat and no internet!
Mom: You’ll be so excited when you hear who is coming to the New York show! Remember that model from Prague? The one who invited you skiing?
Dad: Hey, princess. Just letting you know I’m thinking about you. Hope your trip is going well.
Appointment Reminder: It’s time to schedule your yearly wellness exam! Please contact our office at your earliest convenience.
I swiped every notification away with a heavy sigh.
The social media notifications weren’t much better.
A photo of Lissa boarding the ship.
My high school Bio lab partner’s gorgeous engagement ring.
The insufferably chauvinist model from Prague announcing he’d be in New York.
*Ding*
Mom: Facebook messenger shows you online. Do you have signal? Call me!
I groaned. There was no escaping her.
I dialed her number, intent to get it over with.
She answered on the second ring. “Heather, baby!” she yelled into the phone. “It is so nice to hear from you! Did you get my messages about New York? About Lukas?”
“Yes, Mom, I saw it,” I said. “You know, I really didn’t have a great time on that ski trip with Lukas. He wasn’t a very nice person.”
“What are you talking about?” Mom asked. “Lukas is wonderful! He’s one of my favorite models to work with, and he really enjoyed seeing you! He’s been asking me every day if you’re coming to the New York show.”
“He called me fat, Mom,” I said. “He said when I sat down, my stomach bulged too much and I needed to do something about it. He also told me he believes feminists are no better than wolves turning on their own pack.”
“So he says some things that are stupid,” Mom brushed me off. “Show me a man that doesn’t. Anyway, I’ve been working hard on our trip plans. I booked us a condo for the whole week, and I hired us a driver.”
“Mom, I really don’t want to go to New York,” I blurted out. I hadn’t planned to say it. Yet, I did—and now I sat with the stunned silence on the other end, praying to lose signal.
“Surely, you don’t mean that,” Mom said. “You’re just tired from the trip you’re on. You’ll feel better once you’re home.”
“Mom, I didn’t want to go to New York before I even got on this boat,” I said. “I don’t care about fashion shows. I’ve been trying to tell you, and I don’t know how to make you hear it. My dream isn’t your dream.”
“Well, we will need to—”
*beep beep beep*
Signal lost.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and sat on my bed, thinking about what had just happened. I’d told her no. And she hadn’t been able to argue.
It was an unspeakably vindicating feeling. One I felt like celebrating.
I eyed my bathing suit, draped over the back of a nearby chair. I would go get some sun, have a drink, and enjoy a peaceful, relaxing afternoon under the sun alone.
I slipped into the little, red two-piece and pulled my hair up into a messy bun. I donned my favorite sunglasses and slathered on a thin coat of sunscreen. I grabbed a towel and barefooted it up on deck to a lounge next to the kitchen. Matteo was grilling pineapple for huli huli chicken nearby. It was the perfect place to sit and watch.
