The Geography of You and Me(52)

“Must be kind of nice,” Dad said. “Always having your house handy like that.”

“Not so different from us, really,” Owen said, pointing at the car. “We’ve had our home with us this whole time, too.”

They were both quiet for a moment, and then Dad smiled a slow smile. “Not anymore,” he said, and with that, they headed inside.





25


In the house with the yellow door, Lucy opened a newspaper.

Her eyes went right to an article about San Francisco.

“Did you know there are eleven species of sharks in the San Francisco Bay?” she asked her mother, who raised her eyebrows.

“Fascinating,” she said.





26


In the little red house with the peeling paint, Owen flipped through a magazine.

His eyes got caught on the word Scotland, and he paused.

“Did you know that the river leading out of Edinburgh is called the Firth of Forth?” he asked his dad, who gave him an odd look.

“Interesting,” he said.





27


In line for the bus, Lucy daydreamed.

She was thinking of road trips and mountains and wide-open spaces.

But really, she was thinking of New York.





28


In a coffee shop, Owen’s mind wandered.

He was thinking of castles and hills and cups of tea.

But really, he was thinking of that elevator.





29


In school, Lucy sat quietly at her desk, which faced west.





30


In between classes, Owen paused for a moment, his toes pointing east.





31


In bed that night, Lucy breathed in.





32


In the car that afternoon, Owen breathed out.





33


In London, Lucy thought of Owen.





34


And far away in Seattle, Owen was thinking of her, too.





PART IV


Somewhere





35


On a gray Saturday morning in London—which arrived on the heels of a gray Friday, and before that a gray Thursday as well—Lucy sat in the kitchen of their new house and watched her mom finish brewing a pot of tea.

“Is it like this all year?” she asked, frowning at the window, which was crowded by a low-hanging sky. It had been only two weeks since they’d gotten to town, but already Lucy had nearly forgotten what the sun felt like; everything here was raw and damp and the air still had a bite to it that felt more like winter than spring.

Mom nodded as she carried two mugs to the table. “Growing up, I never really even noticed. But after all these years away, I admit I’m finding it rather dreary.” She paused to take a long sip of tea. It was just the two of them, as it usually was these days. “I was trying to convince your father that a trip someplace warm was in order, but he’s too busy with work at the moment.” She looked over at the oven clock. “Even on a Saturday morning, it would seem.”

It was true. Dad had been working even longer hours than usual since they’d arrived in London, but Lucy didn’t mind. It meant they had less time to travel without her, and that Mom was around more often. To everyone’s surprise, including her own, she wasn’t even bothered when they canceled their plans to be in New York for the summer. Dad couldn’t get away for long enough to make the trip worth it, Mom had no real interest in returning, and, much to everyone’s delight, her brothers had both managed to get internships in London, so for the first time in ages, they’d all be over here together. And that was just fine with Lucy. There were times when she missed New York—the familiarity of it, and her own deep knowledge of the place—but really, there was nothing pulling her back there anymore.

Mom was still talking about escaping the monotonous London weather. “I told him we should go to Athens for the weekend, but he swears he can’t get away right now, even just for a couple of days.”

“Greece,” Lucy murmured, warming her hands on the mug. “Sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“Not as nice as Paris, though.”

Mom glanced up, her brow furrowed. “Paris?”

“I’ve always wanted to go,” Lucy said with a shrug. “I don’t know why. There’s just something about it, you know?”

“I know,” Mom said, watching her with a curious expression. “I would have loved to take you. Why didn’t you ever ask?”

Lucy frowned. “Ask what?”

“To come along with us.”

“Because,” Lucy said, grasping about for the words. She felt suddenly ill-equipped for this conversation. “Because you and Dad were always doing your own thing.”

Mom’s eyes softened. “We didn’t want to disrupt your lives,” she said. “Always pulling you and your brothers out of school just so we could travel. That would have been impractical at best, and irresponsible at worst.” When she saw the look on Lucy’s face, she laughed gently. “I do realize that sounds a bit hypocritical now, given our recent track record, but really, we just didn’t think you’d like our kinds of trips. We weren’t exactly going to Disneyland, you know.”