Come Away With Me

“Some of them anyway.” Gabe looks up from the magazine. I shoot him a warning glare and he shrugs. Connor isn’t exactly flexible when it comes to things like this, and the last thing I feel like doing is arguing with my baby brother. He always wins. Even though he’s the youngest, he’s the cleverest.

“Most of them,” I clarify. Connor’s expression tells me “most” isn’t going to cut it. “Don’t worry, okay? My doctor said as long as I’m careful about what I eat and do, I’m young, healthy and sure to be just fine.”

“What about the other medication?” Connor asks, carefully avoiding eye contact this time. “From Dr. Rakesh.” I don’t like to talk about the antidepressants, and everyone knows it. It makes me feel more depressed for some reason. Like, you feel totally fine, then someone comments on how flushed your cheeks are and asks if you’re okay, and suddenly you’re convinced you have a raging fever.

“In her bag already,” Gabe says. “I made sure.” I narrow my eyes and wish Gabe would let me handle this.

“I’m all set, Connor. Don’t stress, okay?”

Connor lays the pen down on the list and sighs. “Mom and Dad are worried, Teg,” he says, trying to keep his balance when Jason nudges him off the stool. He punches Jason’s arm in annoyance. But Jason seems to barely register the jab as he claims the stool, pushes his blond hair off his forehead and leans forward with hands on his thighs. He shifts to avoid crushing the small bottles in his back pockets. “We’re worried, too,” Jason says.

“I know you are.”

Gabe gets up and walks toward the bedroom. “Time for me to get packing,” he says, but I know it’s less about his empty backpack and more about giving me some alone time with my brothers.

After Gabe leaves I point to a small box on the kitchen counter. “Could you put that in the top of my bag, please?” Jason, who’s the closest, grabs the small box of note cards and zips it into the top flap of my backpack.

My parents’ concern is well intentioned but has been suffocating, an intrusion almost. And the box of already addressed note cards Mom gave me earlier, which came with a so-you-can-write-us-whenever-you-want speech, only made me feel more like an incapable child. But then Gabe reminded me it has only been two months since Mom found me unconscious in bed, barely breathing. ‘Right,’ I said, pulling the note cards out of the trash.

While Jason deals with the box and my backpack, Connor reclaims the bar stool and picks the pen back up to check off the drugstore items with precise, perfect checkmarks. I resist the urge to throw my arms around him and kiss him on the top of the head, like I used to when he was little. I’m beginning to realize how useless my family has felt during these past few months. And how far away I’ve kept them.

“Look, I’m sorry I scared you guys,” I say. Jason stands behind me and massages my shoulders with his strong fingers. I relax back against him.

“It’s okay, Teg,” he says, though Connor gives me a look that suggests he’s not quite as ready to let his guard down.

“Honestly, it was an accident. It was a bad day pain-wise, and I just wanted to get a few hours of sleep. That’s it.”

Jason continues massaging my shoulders, kneading the little balls of tension that have taken up permanent residence there. “We believe you, sis.” I reach my hands back to give his a quick, appreciative squeeze. “So, what else do you need us to do?” he asks.

“For the record, I didn’t ‘need’ you two to do anything, if you remember.” I tilt my head back so I can look at him. He smirks but keeps massaging. “I’m a big girl and you guys need to trust I’m going to be okay.” Tough sell, I know, based on what’s happened. Also, even though I’m the oldest and as scrappy as any kid who grew up with two brothers, Jason and Connor have always treated me like a rare and delicate bird. But I’m doing better now. Or at least, I’m close to doing better.

Jason holds his hands up in surrender, and then envelops me in a massive hug. He smells of some kind of coconut hair product and stale beer, likely from working at the bar the night before.

My breath leaves me the tighter Jason squeezes, and I finally wriggle out from inside the steel circle of his strong biceps and shoulders.

“What time’s the flight?” Jason asks, eyeing a plate of pastries on the counter. After a questioning look from him and a nod from me, he grabs one and sinks his teeth deeply into its round, doughnutlike surface. “God, are these good,” he says, mouth full of sweet dough oozing with a tangy, rich lemon cream. He takes another pastry before even finishing the first. “What are they?”

“I can’t remember the Italian name, but apparently it translates to virgin’s breast.”

“No wonder I like them so much,” he says, taking another huge bite. Connor sighs, eyes still on the list.

“Conn, you should try one. They’re fucking amazing,” Jason says, his mouth full.

“They really are. Rosa brought them over earlier. I suspect she’s trying to fatten me up.” Rosa is rail thin, probably because she spends more time pushing food on those she loves versus eating it herself. It used to bother me—the comments and frequent food drop-offs—because it felt almost accusatory, like I wasn’t capable of keeping Gabe as well fed as she could. But over the years I learned that for her, food and love were intertwined—the more she pushed, the more she loved.

Jason pops the last bite of the second pastry into his mouth, and then licks his fingers. “Tell her she can bring these over to my place while you’re gone.”

I laugh. “I’ll do that. Although be prepared, her pastries may be sweet but her judgment can be harsh,” I say, then notice Gabe standing in the doorway of our room.

“Be nice,” he mouths at me, eyes teasing. I smile and tilt my head, gesturing to him it’s okay to come back out.

Jason shrugs. “I’m good with the tough ones. Along with handsome I’m also often referred to as charming.”

Gabe laughs, and Connor snorts. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“That you are,” I say to Jason. “Plus, if you eat a plate of her pastries in one sitting I’m sure you’ll be in her good books forever.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Gabe says, coming into the kitchen as I hand Jason a takeout container.

“Take them all,” I say, when he starts to close the lid, two pastries still on the plate.

“Are you sure? You are looking a little skinny.”

Gabe looks at me then. I’m swimming in the legging jeans I used to have to lie down to zip up, and I know what he’s thinking. Skinny isn’t good. Skinny equals sad.

“I prefer svelte, thank you very much,” I say as much to Gabe as Jason. “Seriously, take them. And to answer your question, the plane leaves in about six hours.”

Jason kisses me on the cheek, leaving a hint of stickiness behind. “You’re the best, love ya.”

“Love you, too.” I hug him again. Then I hug Connor, who holds my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead. The way my dad does. “Be good, you two,” I say.

“Ditto,” Connor says.

Jason salutes with his free hand. “Always am,” he says with a smile that suggests otherwise.

Gabe says his goodbyes, promising my brothers he’ll take great care of me like always, then heads off to take a shower.

I walk Connor and Jason to the front door, holding it open for them with my foot. “Come back in one piece, okay?” Connor says with worried eyes. My mother’s eyes.

“Of course,” I say, standing in the open front door as my brothers make their way to the stairwell.

Jason turns before heading down the stairs after Connor and holds up the takeout container. “Seriously, tell Rosa I’m available if she needs me to eat stuff while you’re gone.”

“I will.” I wave and start to shut the door.

“Tegan!” Jason calls out.

I poke my head back into the hall. “Yeah?”

“Have fun, kiddo.”

“That’s the plan,” I reply with as much enthusiasm as I can.

We wave at each other and I shut the door. For the hundredth time since booking the tickets, I try to convince myself I’m ready for this.

15

An hour later I share a tearful goodbye with Anna, complete with a bag of my favorite treat, caramel cheese popcorn, from Garrett Popcorn. The first, and only, time I convinced her to try the sweet and cheesy concoction she gagged so hard she vomited on the sidewalk outside the shop, which only proves how much she loves me. She also gives me a book for the plane she promises won’t make me cry, with an inscription of one of her grandmother’s famous proverbs on the inside cover—a book is like a garden carried in the pocket—which neither of us really get but pretend to be inspired by. After she’s gone, I change into my travel clothes of black yoga pants, a hoodie and tennis shoes, and sit on the couch. The airport limousine should be arriving in fifteen minutes, and my stomach feels sour. Maybe from the popcorn. Probably from everything else.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Gabe asks when I let out a deep sigh, scanning the tickets in front of me. The destinations are in the order we pulled them out of the jar.

“Is this a mistake? I’m not sure about the order.” I frown, flipping through the three itineraries. My fingertips leave faint neon-orange popcorn dust smudges on the papers.

“The order’s fine. You’re just nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” I say, frustrated to have to admit it. “This feels fast. I don’t know if I’m ready.” I hold my fingers against the pendant, and it presses into my bony sternum. “I don’t know if this is going to work. I don’t know if—” My voice breaks as a sob catches in my throat. I take a deep breath before going on. “This is going to sound crazy, but maybe I don’t want to get over it.” I’m relieved to finally say it out loud. “Do I really want to feel better? To move on? Because...because...” I stop, gasping against my sorrow.

“Because you’re afraid you’ll forget?” Gabe’s voice is soft, understanding.

I nod, sucking in air. “What if I forget how much I loved...how much I love—”

“You won’t,” Gabe says, interrupting me. Determination floods his voice. “I won’t let you.”

I breathe out through pursed lips and focus on his words. “Thank you.” I rest my head back against the cushioned couch and close my eyes. “I love you, Gabe.”

It’s the first time in four months I’ve said those words.

two

Thailand

16

Almost twenty-four hours after leaving Chicago, with a short layover in Frankfurt—from which I was still trying to get the stench of cigarette smoke out of my hair—our plane is minutes away from touching down on the runway at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. I keep my eyes shut, enjoying the few moments that exist between dead sleep and consciousness. Despite my exhaustion and having spent two days on airplanes with nothing to do but sit and wait for time to pass, sleep has been hard to come by. Especially because of Gloria, our seatmate on the left.

She introduced herself in the airport’s bathroom mirror while I brushed my teeth before takeoff, and as luck would have it, she ended up right beside me for the entire flight. She’s a single mom, late forties, with a generous smile and a wild mop of red hair that consistently reaches beyond her seat and into my face. She works for some travel company in Chicago I’ve never heard of, and is on her way to a conference in Bangkok.

I try to be polite, listening to stories and looking at pictures of her son, who has just been accepted to college, and her cat, that she’s incredibly stressed about leaving behind, seemingly more so than her son. Gabe chuckles in my other ear, because this is what always happens.

I’m a beacon for the talkers. It’s as if I have a flashing sign that reads, “I want to hear all your stories, especially about your pet or disgusting medical issue!” No matter where I am, whether on the “L” train or walking through a shopping mall or sitting at a picnic bench in the park, the talkers flock to me. “It’s your eyes,” Gabe says by way of explanation. “You have curious eyes.”

My eyes, the color of milk chocolate and maybe a little close together, have never seemed special enough to entice such attention. Plus, despite my “curious” eyes, Gabe is by far the more social of the two of us.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Gabe whispers. I smile but keep my eyes shut. “The fun’s about to start.”

I crack open one eye and glance out the window. It’s early morning in Bangkok, and a beautiful one at that, the sky just hanging on to the last of the sunrise.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Gloria asks, leaning into me to look out the window. I shift slightly to get out of the way of her hair. “I love Bangkok. The energy is palpable, you know? You’re going to have a great time.”

“That’s the plan,” Gabe and I say at the same time, and Gloria smiles at us and pats my arm.

“I love seeing young people heading out on adventures,” she says. “One of the reasons I adore my job so much. There’s nothing like your first time...in Thailand, that is!” She winks. I laugh, forgiving her for her hair and loose tongue.

“How are you feeling, love?” Gabe asks, as I shift Anna’s book off my lap. I still haven’t cracked the spine, but I had good intentions to.

“I’m looking forward to washing the plane off my face.” I rub my hands over my eyes and wipe out the crusty sleep.

“Here,” Gloria says, nudging me with her arm. She holds out what looks like a baby wipe. “I swear by these. Got them in Japan last time I was there. They smell strange but your face will thank you.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the moist, white disposable towel and holding it up to my nose. I have no idea what the scent is, but it’s not entirely terrible, just odd. I shrug and wipe my forehead, then my chin and nose.

“Make sure you wipe it around your eyes,” Gloria says, doing just that. “It has some sort of tightener that will make you look ten years younger. Not that you need that. But this old face certainly does.”

“You know it’s probably filled with bird-poop essence or something like that,” Gabe whispers. “Apparently the Japanese are fond of their bird-dropping facials. Superexpensive.” I wipe around and around my eyes while Gloria watches, hoping he’s wrong.

“Ah, that’s better, don’t you think?” Gloria asks. “Feel like I’ve slept all night.”

Just then the flight attendant walks by, handing out hot towels as we taxi down the runway toward the terminal. I grab one for myself and Gabe, but he waves it away.

“No, thanks. I like the plane’s grit. Makes me feel like an authentic traveler.”

“Whatever you do, don’t use this on your face,” Gloria says, unrolling her own towel so it’s a flat square. I look at the towel in my hands, hot and steaming, and see the row of people across from ours all doing just that—pressing the hot towel to their faces.

“Why?” I ask Gloria, thinking it’s probably because then I’ll wipe away the very expensive bird-shit essence I just rubbed around my eyes.

“Trust me,” she says, using her towel to wipe a spot of tomato sauce off her pants. We had lasagna for dinner, which was better than expected. “They’re really low-quality towels.”

I stifle a laugh. Looking at Gloria, with her denim leggings with exposed threads and long-sleeve cotton shirt that seems to have lost its shape many washes ago, I think that her caring about the quality of an airplane towel seems out of character.

“Thanks for the tip,” Gabe says, and I just smile at Gloria. But she doesn’t see it, as she’s still scrubbing at the spot on her pants.

“Listen, if you need anything, anything at all while you’re here, call me,” Gloria says a few minutes later, after she’s packed up her magazines and bottled water from her seat pocket. “I’ll be here for the rest of the week, and know Bangkok like the back of my hand.” I take the business card she holds out and murmur my thanks, though I’m certain we’ll never call. The cabin is full of rustling and action, as we get ready to deplane. My heart flutters and my legs are unsteady when I stand.

“Relax, love,” Gabe says. I take a deep breath. “Besides, if Red gets even a whiff of anxiety from you, we’ll never shake her.” I laugh loudly. Gloria turns and gives us a big grin.

“Sounds like I don’t need to tell you this, but have fun,” she says. Then she steps into the aisle after the other passengers filing out in a line.

“You, too, Gloria. Nice to meet you,” I reply, stepping out behind her. I turn my head to the side to avoid her unruly hair, which seems to have doubled in size since takeoff.

“I hope we’ve seen the last of that hair,” Gabe whispers, and I chuckle, amazed at how normal this all feels. I wonder how long it will last.

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