Maya leaned against me.
“Do you remember our first trip?”
“Yes.”
“Wasn’t that supposed to be Tahiti?”
I smiled.
“It was.”
“Are you sad we didn’t go?”
I thought about the question.
Tahiti had cost me fifteen thousand dollars.
Hawaii had cost me something much more valuable.
It had cost me the illusion that my mother loved me in the way I kept desperately trying to earn.
But it had also given me something.
Freedom.
“No,” I said.
“Why?”
I looked at my daughters.
“Because sometimes the trip that gets cancelled is the one that finally takes you where you needed to go.”
Maya rolled her eyes.
“That sounds like one of those weird mom sayings.”
I laughed.
“It probably is.”
We walked back toward the beach.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number.
For a moment, old instinct returned.
My stomach tightened.
I opened the message.
Emily, this is Vanessa. Mom died this morning.
