Robin Reul - Where the Road Leads Us

Jack

Friday, June 4, 6:42 a.m.

The simultaneous occurrence of my eighteenth birthday and my last day of high school arrives with zero fanfare. I should be excited on both counts, but instead Im lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling like Ive been doing since 4:00 a.m., fighting off a panic attack. I feel as if Im held together with off-brand masking tape.

The rising sun pierces through a slat in my shutters directly into my eyes. I have to get up soon anyway, so I drag myself out of bed to open the window. Im greeted by a brown mushroom cloud of smoke rising from the horizon. The hazards of living in Southern California; if its not earthquakes, its wildfires. This one looks pretty bad. And naturally, my mother isnt even here. If my high school graduation and eighteenth birthday werent important enough to make her leave her book tour and come home, wildfires burning out of control with zero percent containment sure arent going to.

The winds havent stopped blowing for three straight days. A grayish-brown haze permeates everything. Im anxious about leaving for New York tomorrow while this is going on. Big fires like this never get put out that quickly. Often, they jump highways and weave through canyons until they burn all the way down to the ocean, destroying everything in their path. What if the winds change direction and they burn all the way here? It only takes one ember. I know firsthand that everything can change in a single second, so I find myself perpetually on edge, waiting for it to.

The Imperial Death Marchmy mothers ringtonepierces the early morning silence, jarring me out of my thought spiral. Im tempted to let it roll to voicemail, but I pick it up at the last possible second.

Hey, Mom. I lie back down and rub at my eyes.

Hi, babe! I wanted to make sure I got to wish you a happy birthday and happy graduation because my schedule is so packed today. Bingo. Less than three seconds to make it all about her. That might be a record. She barely takes a breath before she launches into her litany. I have Good Morning America and then that Vanity Fair thing in the afternoon, and then my agent is meeting me for drinks to talk about the next two books. Trust me, Id much rather be there to celebrate and see you get your diploma, but I know you understand. Ill make it up to you when I see you on Monday in New York, I promise. Ill take you to Jean-Georges for dinner.

And then to someone in the room she says, Jesus, what does a girl have to do to get a latte around here? Its followed by her lilting laugh. Its fake. Ive actually heard her practicing it.

No worries. Its only a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I say, half joking.

Exactly. She thinks Im talking about her and the press tour shes on, when Im actually talking about me. My mother, gotta love her, is completely self-absorbed. How are you holding up otherwise? The news makes it look like the whole city is on fire. Is it smoky where we live? Make sure you dont leave any windows open. I dread what the pool is going to look like from the ash.

I want to tell her how much it sucks that Dad isnt here, or my brother Alex, and that most of the time, it seems like she doesnt want to be here either. Or that sometimes I hold my breath until it feels like my lungs will burst and that some days, I wish they would.

But we dont have those sorts of conversations. We never have. She pays my therapist Carole to listen to that stuff. And her question was rhetorical. So I stick to my standard response. Fine. Its easier that way.

Good. Jesus, my kid is graduating, and he can vote now. I feel so old. It seems like I should impart some parental wisdom or something.

I sigh and watch my ceiling fan spin in slow circles. This is more for her benefit than it is for mine. Imparting wisdom seems reasonable given the circumstances.

Shes ready. I can almost picture her scrawling it on her hotel bar napkin last night in anticipation. Life is always going to have highs and lows, so dont focus on the parts you cant change. Today is the beginning of the next chapter of your life. Its a blank page, and youve got the pen.

You sound like youre reading the Google search results for self-empowerment memes. Or the conclusion of a keynote.

She laughs. Its actually from Chapter Sixteen in my latest book, but its good, right? Its a hundred percent applicable for you.

Its not though. I have never felt less like I was holding the pen.

People pay twenty-eight dollars a pop for that knowledge because they know its the truth. How lucky are you that you get this sage wisdom for free?

I roll on to my side and close my eyes. So lucky.

Someone talks in the background, and I can tell Mom is distracted because she misses the sarcasm in my voice. Anyway, you all packed for tomorrow?

No.

Almost.

My stomach tightens. I landed a paid summer internship in New York before I start at Columbia this fall. Im booked to leave on a red-eye tomorrow night. Ive gotten as far as putting the empty suitcases in my room.

Great. Im busy all weekend with a million events, so Ill see you Monday. The hotel is prepaid, so order some room service and check out the cityhave an adventureand Ill probably be there around four or five on Monday after the signing, unless I get held up.