Chapter 11

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“Hello?”

“This is the operator for Florida Bell. There is a collect call from Patricia for you. Will you accept the charges?”

“Yes! Yes! Oh my god, yes!”

“Thank you. Caller, please go ahead.”

“Daddy? It’s me. Patty. I’m...” Any further comment was cut off with my father calling to my mother.

“Honey! Pick up the phone! It’s Patty!”

I heard the extension being picked up and my mother’s voice. “Patty? Is it really you? Are you okay?”

I thought that having them both on the phone at the same time would be okay, to cut down on double explanations. “I’m fine. Healthy. Safe. I didn’t have a chance to read the emails until yesterday. Long story.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the Jacksonville airport. Can you come get me? Or should I get a bus ticket? Can I come home? Please?” By now I was running on emotional overload and was on the verge of a breakdown.

“We can be there within the hour,” Mom answered. Dad asked where in the airport I was and I told him what terminal. “Wait for us right there! Don’t go anywhere. We will pull into the passenger loading lane to get you.”

“Thank you,” I sobbed.

“What happened? Why did you do this?”

“Daddy, it’s a long story and on the phone isn’t the place for me to tell you. Just understand that I did all of this of my own free will and was never forced to do anything. Please, you said in your email that you were not mad. Please try to stay that way. We will talk when you get here. I’ll see you in an hour. I love you.”

Less than an hour later, I saw my parents pull up in the Taurus wagon we had. Dad had barely put it in park and mom was out the door, running towards me where I stood on the sidewalk. Within seconds, I was wrapped in a hug and she was showering kisses on me, crying. My own tears flowed freely as well. Dad came over, a little slower, and then had his arms around the both of us, rocking back and forth.

“Folks?” I looked up and saw a police officer. “This is a loading area. Could you please collect any luggage and pull out to allow other vehicles to use the space?”

Dad grabbed my things and tossed them into the back of the wagon. I opened the back door and slid into the seat. Mom followed and held my hand tightly, like she was afraid that if she let it go, I would vanish. As we pulled away, they started to rapidly question me, like a tag-team, so I held a hand up.

“Please, I know you have a lot of questions and I will answer as best I can. But please, can I just have a few minutes to let my mind rest? Please?”

To my astonishment, they agreed and the ride back to Brunswick was mostly silent. It was dark, and once we left the city, I could see up into the night sky and there were stars. So many stars, and I remembered looking up at them, sitting next to Pat, holding his hand.

“Oh, my love,” I thought to myself. “Please don’t hate me.”

We pulled into the driveway and Dad told me to grab my stuff and bring it to my room. I could unpack after we had a chance to talk, even for a little bit. I knew it was going to be a long night. Mom asked if I was hungry or wanted a drink. “I ate before I called you, So maybe just some hot tea, please?”

I opened my bedroom door and went in. It was like I had never left. The bed was made, some stuff was scattered on my desk. Makeup lined up on my vanity. And a Brunswick High Pirates t-shirt stuffed in the dresser with the sleeve hanging out. It was like the last 6 weeks hadn’t happened. I tossed my stuff on the bed, and figured I would go through it after the first round of interrogations ended. I turned and headed towards the kitchen.

My parents were seated at the table, and at my place was a mug of hot water that had a teabag steeping in it. I sat and held the mug, absorbing the heat that transferred to my hands.

“‘The time has come,’ the walrus said, ‘to talk of many things. Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax. Of cabbages and kings.’”

“‘And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings,’” my father finished the lines from the Lewis Carroll poem known as “The Walrus and the Carpenter”.

Mom took dad’s hand and softly continued. “Patty, please tell us about your summer adventure. Your father and I are very confused why you decided to do this.”

“Okay. But try not to interrupt me too much. And please, stay calm. I want to stress that everything that happened, that I participated in, was of my own free will. I was not forced or coerced in any way.” They nodded.

“All my life, I heard about how you two met in high school and started dating right away. When you graduated, dad went to college and eventually med school. Mom, you worked and went to night college part time.” They nodded. “You eventually got married, settled down, dad started a practice and bought this house. And then one day in 1982, I came along.” This was old news, but I had a reason for the review. “Growing up, I was a happy kid and wanted for nothing. You gave me unconditional love. Even if that love was a sacrifice on your part.” I held up my hands to forestall the protests.

“You don’t realize it, but there were many nights that I could hear you talking. I heard how you had been forced to put plans on hold because life had tossed a few surprises at you. I heard that you wanted to travel. Get an RV and top off the tank and see where the road took you. Maybe go to Sloppy Joe’s in Key West, so mom could toss her bra into the rafters and have it stay there with the hundreds of others. Or dad could go whitewater rafting in the Grand Canyon. Or maybe the two of you go beach camping at Montauk Point on Long Island, and make love in the sand as the sun came up.” Mom turned a slight pink at that statement.

“But none of that happened, did it?”

“We had responsibilities,” mom answered.

“I know. And I was one of them. You had to be adults.” I did the finger-air- quote around the word ‘adults’ and smiled. “And I want you to know that I’m monumentally grateful for the sacrifices you made for me, giving me a wonderful family and taking care of me. But watching the two of you put these dreams and plans on hold, over and over again, was heartbreaking. So I want to stop for a moment and ask you to promise me something.”

This got their attention.

“By this time next year, I will be 18 and done with high school. What happens after that is open to any number of possibilities. But,” and I paused and emphasized the word ‘but’, “I want you to promise me that you will start doing all the things that you have put off for so long. I’m not saying to do everything at once. Just maybe one or two things a year. Spread it out, so you can make real plans to do things and enjoy it. Neither of you will be 50 yet, so still young enough to enjoy going to Manhattan to see a Broadway Musical, and then go out for dinner at Windows on the World! Or drive all of Route 66 and hit every corny little tourist trap place along the way.”