The kids are still unimpressed. Time to move on.
I continue touring them around London, trying to pepper in interesting facts with the humor, with varying degrees of success. It all has me feeling oddly nostalgic. For London, yes, but also, for doing things with a family. I didn’t realize it was something I missed. My parents have been gone a while now,and before then, I wasn’t around much. I’d left as quickly as I could. I had dreams and I was ready to pursue them.
Was this feeling a mix, though? Missing what I had and longing for it myself. I always assumed I’d have a family one day, but I’ve never pursued it. I certainly haven’t made it a priority.
I’m staring out in the direction of my secondary school, remembering my first role, Ebenezer Scrooge inA Christmas Carol,when I’m hit with a realization. This is why my aunt has me on this wild goose chase. Not because she was crackers, though she was, but because she always hated that I left. She accused me of forgetting my roots, and trading in something established and beautiful for something frivolous and transient.
I don’t agree, but as I look around, I have to admit, she wasn’t entirely wrong.
I step to the side of the group and take a selfie with the view in the background, just in case this ends up being one of the stops Aunt Agnes has waiting for me.
“Are there not enough photos of yourself out there that you had to take a selfie?” Ivy smirks playfully as she approaches.
For a moment, I consider telling her about my aunt’s mission, but it sounds insane and I’m not sure that having an insane aunt adds points in my favor.
“I just wanted to see how I really look in my new glasses,” Ijoke.
“Have you not walked past a mirror since you got them?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Nope.”
“A placid lake?”
This makes me chuckle and I imagine threading my fingers into her wild curls. “I only visit turbulent bodies of water,” I say, stepping slightly closer.
Ivy tilts her head, considering. “Your glasses are perfect. In fact, I think I prefer you with them.” She moves as if she were going to walk away. Like she wants to leave me to sit with that comment, which, judging from her facial expression, she meant as a compliment. No way I’m leaving a compliment unanswered. Not from her. I need to keep it light, though. She doesn’t need to know that I could wax poetic about each and every one of her freckles. That the shape of her is the inspiration for love songs.
I stop her with the lightest drag of my knuckles down her cheek. “Your face is perfect. In fact, I think I prefer you with it.”
Her laughter echoes around the capsule, and my heart soars with the sound.
12
Ivy
“IwaswrongwhenI said we were going to London Bridge. We’re actually going to the Tower Bridge,” I say as I look up from the itinerary on my phone. Yes, I made an itinerary. That’s who I am.
“I know.” Alex glances over the back seat of a fancy black car to where I sit. When Alex offered for his driver to drive the two of us to the bridge, my sister made a face that saidI’ll never forgive you if you don’t go.
“You know? Are you all-knowing, too?”
“Too? What else am I?” he asks, the corner of his mouth turned up within his profile.
“You know good and well what all you are.” He begs for my sassy attitude; he really does.
He shakes his head. “I knew you were going to the Tower Bridge because either you are like most tourists and assume Tower Bridge is London Bridge, or you know but misspoke. I’m guessing the latter, because you don’t strike me as the type to go into a trip without some research.”
I turn my phone face down so he can’t see my detailed spreadsheet. He’s got me pegged there, but there’s no need for him to see how right he actually is.
We step into the north tower and are greeted by a spiral staircase. I’ve always wanted a house with a spiral staircase, but this one looks daunting.
“Construction began in 1886 and took eight years to complete,” I read off a sign. “That’s amazing. I wonder if they’ve had to replace much of it.”
“My grandma still uses a blender she got for her wedding. Things used to be built to last,” Micah supplies.
“What he left out is that her blender was also built in 1886,” Val jokes from the step two above mine. The kids lead the way, followed by Micah, and Alex is bringing up the rear. I’m tryingnotto think aboutmyrear, being right in his face. Still, I’m glad I wore my best jeans today. I’m sure I can’t match the near physical perfection he’s used to in women, but I feel good inthese jeans. Not that I’m thinking about it.
Okay, I totally am. But how could I not be with almost everyone’s “ideal man” right behind me?
