A While Longer

My favorite part about summer is visiting the coast. It’s so old-timey. We get to visit a part of the world that’s been swallowed up and spit out so many times that the hard rock has turned into soft sand. Daddy says it’s silly to romanticize erosion, but I think we’re like those rocks. We change over time.

Through the windows of the bullet train the steep cliffs are beautiful, and I feel safe despite how quickly we round the curves of the mountains. I stick my hand out in front of me, my palm facing sideways, and pretend it’s the train. As the train rounds a corner I curve my hand in, then shoot it upwards as though we were launching out of the forest. “Swoosh!” I let out a sharp whisper as the train rounds another corner and climbs up a hillside. “Choo choo!”

Mama lets out a light chuckle. “You like the train so much? What about this?” She extends her hand, cupped downward. The train slopes downward, then so does her hand, which glides smoothly through the air as we navigate the terrain. At a particularly steep incline she shoots her hand up in the air and whispers “splash!” playfully into my ear. “Like a dolphin.”

“Like a dolphin!” I beam at the idea and return to my fantasy, now better suited to the ocean that awaits us.

“I know you miss the country, Jean, but really. It’s impractical to encourage this,” Daddy gestures to the nature surrounding us outside before leaning in and whispering to mama, “Think about your sister.”

Mama bites her lip and looks out the opposite window before letting out a short sigh. “It’s fine, clearly she loves the Citadel.” Her voice sounded sweet and embellished. “We’re out for a smidge of relaxation, nothin’ crazy about that.”

I know better than to look at mama and Daddy when they whisper, but I couldn’t help but giggle when she slipped into her country accent. Daddy caught it too. He gave her a reproving look, but it was filled with all the love and admiration that was there when they fell in love so long ago.

When we get to the train station I notice some old-timey cars, with their gas engines and manual drives. I don’t really know what that means exactly but I do know that you have to do all the driving yourself. Daddy says it’s a ‘relic of a pastime,’ though I don’t understand what driving has to do with hobbies. Naturally, we get into an electric car to take us to where we want to go.

The car drove us away from lush beaches, neatly trimmed hills, and orderly vehicles delivering their passengers to polished buildings. Eventually we arrive at swaths of meadow that are frequently interrupted by mountains and creeks. It smells like grass, but also like stinky animals and smoky wood. I remember it smelled disgusting to me the first time I came here, but I’ve come to cherish it. It hits me all at once when the car door opens in front of an old barn.

“You think this is rustic?” Mama asks skeptically.

“It’s ancient, look at it. The paint isn’t even new.”

“I have to agree with Daddy,” I interject, noting a twinkle of approval in his eye. The barn had barely any windows in the front, and what windows were there looked foggy and caked with dirt that failed to wash off in the rain. Closer inspection reveals the wood cracking and pulling away from itself, swollen and faded from the salty sea air. We open the door to find a lightly furnished living area. Most of the floorboards were fully intact, but just like outside, they were worn and squeaked as we made our way inside. “Are we staying the night here?” The question came out sheepish and unsure as I held back my excitement.

“Yes,” Mama says defensively. “We just—”

I cut her off with a scream. “Awesome!” I drop my bag at the door and scamper through the barn. There’s dust everywhere, but it glistens through a beam of sunlight coming from above the loft in the back. The front of the barn has an open living space with two large sofas, a wood slab table, and a bear rug. I run my fingers through the fur and shudder, equally from excitement and fear. “I’ve never touched a bear before!”

Mama laughs and moves in front of a fireplace, going to work around the scorched stone. “We just need to get this fire going so we can be warm until bed. Henry, dear, would you fill up these buckets? Just remember to flip the switches around back.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks nervously.

Her eyebrows raise pleadingly. “We did it before, we can do it again. Please? Besides, even if the Citadel is the best place for her, it isn’t right for a girl to be stuck indoors all the time.”

Daddy concedes, so I resume my tour of the barn. Across from the makeshift living room is an old kitchen. Instead of an oven there’s a large metal furnace with a trapdoor on its front and elevated burners on its top. The cabinets look cobbled together and flimsy. The plumbing is all faded copper but it still sticks out against the weathered material that makes up everything else in the barn. Even the beds in the back look like they were made of some random old logs that a lumberjack picked up decades ago.

I skitter up to the biggest bed. It’s covered with layers of handwoven blankets in patterns I only see on Mama’s winter scarves. I quietly jump up onto the bed and roll around. It’s a little scratchy, but so warm. I couldn’t help but feel that this bed was even warmer, more comfortable and inviting, than my bed at home.

“Beds are for sleeping, Ellie,” Daddy chides me routinely as he comes in through the back.

“Yes, Daddy. These blankets are so so soft though! I’m glad we’re here!” I jump back down and run straight up a ladder to the loft above. It’s filled with a bed of straw that looks illuminated from a giant window that replaced the upper back wall. As soon as I clear the landing I flop forward. The straw pokes a little, but it still feels soft, so I roll my way across the loft and nestle into a cozy spot in the middle. Then I look outside. “Mama! Daddy! You have to come see this!” They laugh in unison, as if in response to an inside joke, before taking their time up the stairs. “Guys, hurry!”

“Coming,” Mama reassures me. Daddy makes it up first, turning at the landing and helping Mama. “Such a gentleman,” she grins, and he kisses her hand affectionately. The two of them come around and sandwich me between them.

The window looks over a short pasture, interrupted by a small creek and some trees, before revealing the ocean. It’s sprawled out like a giant wave pool, bigger than any water park we’ve ever visited. I stick out my hand and pretend it’s a dolphin playing in the water.

Daddy gives a resigned sigh. “I think this is the most beautiful spot in the world. Right here, with the two of you.”

“We could stay here,” I reply, simply. “I don’t mind the dust, or the cow poop!”

“Nugget, it isn’t as easy as that,” Daddy poked my nose. “It isn’t safe out here. We come here for a treat because we can.”

Familiar with the next step of the conversation, I look at Mama. She hesitates, calculating her words. Usually she talks about the romance of loving nature and why it’s good in small doses, but the city has everything we need to live safely and thrive. Instead, she falters and looks back at Daddy. “What makes it dangerous, Daddy?” I ask slowly, moving away from the script. We have this conversation every year but I still didn’t understand. “I understand why cars are scary, why you have to be careful when you swim, and why you can’t talk to strangers. But I don’t understand how this is dangerous,” I trail off as I turn to look back at the ocean. The sun was setting, making it difficult to stare, but it shone magnificently. Light ricochets off in various hues of purple, pink, and orange that I never get to see in the city.

We all look out together for a moment while Daddy collects his thoughts. “Home has everything we need. We can get you from point A to point B without being worried. Your teachers all have the best education so you can be whatever you want to be when you grow up. We have firemen and police officers to make sure we can all sleep safely at home, who can put a bandaid on your knee if you get hurt, or find you and bring you home in case you get lost.” Here he pauses and glances at Mama, whose lip is starting to tremble. It knocked the breath out of him.

Mama took over. “I grew up here with my sister. Aunt Beth. We lost her, several years ago, before I had the opportunity to bring her into the Citadel. It used to be even harder for people like us, from the country, to make it in. And Daddy came out here, and we fell in love, and he took me with him,” Mama’s voice began to taper as a tear broke from her eye, but she wiped it away quickly. “But Beth wouldn’t dream of it. She stayed here, because she wanted to. A lot of things happened after that. She got sick and didn’t ask us for help. She was brave, so she tried to take care of it on her own. Some bad people gave her some bad medicine, and it wound up making her feel much worse. And then she had an accident, but no one was there to help her.” All this she spoke quietly, with measured breaths.

My eyes were wide, not from the beauty of the sunset before us, but instead with the sadness that comes with feeling sorrow with someone you love. I wrap my arms around Mama’s neck to kiss her cheek. “I’m sad about Aunt Beth. But… the three of us are safe here, right? You and Daddy are strong. And we aren’t here forever, just for tonight, and we can fight off the mean guys together, and we can help each other if we get hurt,” I say brightly. “Mama, you’re so happy when you’re here. And Daddy, you are too even though you act grumpy. You don’t have to be so scared. We can go home when you’re ready. But can we stay a little longer? I like it here.”

Daddy moves around behind us and pulls us into his arms. “Yeah, nugget. We can stay a little longer. Sometimes it can be a little scary to think about everything that can go wrong, but that’s okay. I think we can handle it together.”

We stayed huddled in front of the window while the sun went down and Mama hummed an old campfire tune. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep, but Mama kept humming over my soft snores. Daddy hummed a few notes before leaning into her ear. “Remember that first night we spent here?”

Mama stopped humming to giggle. “Of course. Let’s come back next month, just the two of us. Maybe we can let Ellie stay with Mom,” she suggested. "Maybe next time we can stay a while longer."