“There are just too many variables for us to be so far away,” Phoebe says. “They’re going to need family.”
“Plus, Nana Rosie isn’t exactly getting younger,” Falon adds. “We need to start planning for their next phase of life.”
“What about me?” I ask.
“What about you?” Phoebe reaches across the counter and plucks the jar of mayonnaise out of my hands. “No mayo for Mom or Nana Rosie either. It’s not good for their cholesterol. If Dad’s diet is changing, then everybody’s diet is changing.”
“It’s for me.” I snatch it back. “And why are you guys acting like I won’t be here to help? I can hop on a plane if they need me. We can hire a nurse to help around the house. We can get several. One for diet. One for exercise. Mom and Dad can more than afford for Marie to meal prep for them. I mean, you don’t need to put your life on hold over this. We can make it work.”
“I don’t think Carter will like having a bunch of strangers coming in and out of his house,” Falon says. “Plus, what’s to stop him from firing them the second we’re gone?”
“They need family right now, Pen,” Phoebe says. “Australia will have to wait.”
But I don’t want them to have to wait. I don’t want their dream to have to wait. Phoebe’s been here for my parents whenever they’ve needed her, while I’ve been in San Francisco living my dream. I didn’t realize it before coming here, but part of the reason I have the life that I do is because I haven’t been burdened with the responsibilities that Phoebe has.
She and Falon don’t just work for my dad. They don’t just live in the same city. They actively participate in their lives. They have dinners together and go out together. They share a life, and quite frankly, I think the loss of that family connection would be far more devastating to both of my parents and Nana Rosie than any possible health crisis.
“Then I’ll move here.” I take a bite of my sandwich. “I’ll help them get things squared away. I can write books anywhere. You guys take your adventure, and I’ll hold down the fort.”
“What about your bookstore?” Phoebe asks. “You can’t run that from anywhere.”
“I’ll figure something out. Maybe my focus can be on marketing and social media, stuff that doesn’t require me to be in San Francisco. I can fly out for special occasions.”
I chew in silence as they mull over my proposition. Both seem a little skeptical, and I don’t blame them. I haven’t exactly proven myself as the most reliable person in the family.
Ozzie taps on my leg, begging for a slice of turkey. “I’ve kept him alive.” I pick Ozzie up. “I mean, look at him, he’s healthy and safe. I give him vitamins. I take him to the vet twice a year, and I walk him even when he doesn’t want to go anywhere, because I know it’s good for him. If I can keep a five-pound ball of fluff alive, surely I can keep three old people alive.”
“Your pitch is that you haven’t killed your dog?” Phoebe narrows her eyes. “That’s what you’ve got to show?”
“Hey, it’s more than what you two have.” I set Ozzie down. “I see your Instagram. You two kill plants like it’s a sport.”
“Plants are hard to keep alive,” Falon says defensively. “They’ve got too many variables. Some need full sun. Some need half sun. Some like to dry out completely. Some need to be misted daily. Some die if there are too many cloudy days in a row, and you know what I can’t control? The weather.”
“I’m also the only one who didn’t get high last night. That has to count for something, right?”
“Don’t be mad at me, Pen.” My sister bites her bottom lip anxiously. “But what happens if we get settled over there and you change your mind? I mean, it’s been two days and you haven’t been able to make it through a single night without running out the door. I don’t want to move across the world only to have to come back a few months later because you decide you can’t deal with them.”
A couple of days ago, her honesty would’ve hurt me. It would’ve made me defensive and reinforced the idea that my family doesn’t have faith in me. Now I realize that their lack of faith is just as much my doing as it is theirs. They don’t know me. My family knows a version of Penelope that no longer exists, and if I’m being honest, the Penelope that I morph into when I’m around them isn’t someone I would trust either. But the real me—the Penny that I am when I’m back in San Francisco—she’s the kind of person who is trustworthy. She’s the kind of person who is willing to throw herself into the fire that is Thanksgiving with the Bankses because her friends are counting on her. And if they give me a chance, they’ll see me for who I really am: a thirtysomething writer of smut who shows up for the people she loves. And still says no to drugs.