“And oopsy, I bought a house in France!”
“Drive,” said Marlow. She turned to Sabine. “Passports? Cash? Wits about you?”
“Check, check, and check.”
“I don’t hate my life,” said Marlow to Noah, “and we’re going to France to unbuy a house and have a vacation. Go ahead and joke. I’ll deliver the PowerPoint from the gate, we’ll have a great time, be home next Sunday, and all will be back to how it was before.”
“Is that what you want?” Noah asked.
“There’s the exit,” she said in return.
Waiting to board, Sabine sat on the carpet next to the only available outlet to charge her cell. She eyed her mum, who was working furiously on her laptop, and texted with Willa. Willa was loving this whole one-euro house in France thing and wanted details.
Willa:Your mum freaking out?
Sabine:Working on a Ppt for work. Answering 10,000 emails.
Willa:Finish it all before AWESOME FRANCE.
Sabine:She gets talked into stuff. Takes on too much. Example of how not to adult.
Sabine yanked a page from her notebook, tore it into four pieces, folded them in half, and tucked them into one another. A sudden chapbook. On the cover, she drew the airplane outside the window, and titled it “Taking Off.” If only. High school was in the rear view, but if you had no clue what to do next, could you use that title?
Willa:Maybe buying a house in France for 1 euro is how TO adult.
Not. Clearly, a parental meltdown had occurred the night she graduated. Sabine opened her chapbook and started writing.
Marlow sits in the airport lounge—not lounging
On her way to a place she’s never been, still trying to like the place she is
Will the emails stop while she’s trying?
Gate 27B, YYZ?CDG, 6 letters with possibility
If only we could read the sign(s) and not the emails.
Sabine’s cell phone pinged.
Willa:Text me everything. Maybe you’ll meet a cute boy.
Sabine:ARF! Forgot to check cell plans. I may be off grid. And there’ll be zero cute boys.
Sabine could barely figure out her life—she didn’t need to add boys to it just this second. On the back page of her little book, she wrote:“Brilliant and heartfelt. Pulitzer contender for sure!”—Willa Cho, New Yorker Book Reviews
Willa:No cute boys in France? AS IF.
Sabine:Don’t worry if I’m out of touch.
Willa:NOOOO! I NEED UPDATES! Get a cell phone plan!
Willa was the best friend ever, but ten days with no connectivity wouldn’t be terrible.
CHAPTER FIVE
Marlow and Sabine didn’t have to wait at the luggage carousel because they’d only brought carry-on. They made it through security quickly and emerged into sunshine. French sunshine.
Marlow had worked like stink on Oscar’s revised PowerPoint in the Toronto airport lounge while also texting with Noah, who started out by saying he really did hope she had a good time away, then asking what she’d do if she couldn’t get a refund on the house, then joking that he wouldn’t know what to do if she abandoned him for France and left him to fend off their parents alone, then worrying that that was a real possibility, and that he would be nowhere. That descent, she knew, was the depression talking—the hounds that pursued her brother, less now that he was on medication, but more than she’d like. She reassured him that keeping the house was never going to happen. It was impossible in every way.
