On the way home, she held both our hands. “I’ll always be safe with my knights,” she told us. “I love you both so much.”
For weeks afterward, her nicknames for us lingered—and in the same way that our parents seemed to shelter Dana from harm, both Micah and I began to feel the need to do so, too. Unlike us, she was quiet and sweet. Unlike us, she seemed content with the world around her. Dana was our princess, and we decided then and there that we would always take care of her.
As the year wore on, my parents continued to argue even more.
Usually, these fights would occur late at night, after we’d gone to bed. We’d be sleeping soundly when their raised voices would wake us. One by one, my brother, my sister, and I would sit up in our beds and listen; with every shout we’d flinch and look at each other, wishing that it would stop and wanting nothing more than for them to be happy again. The fights could last for an hour or more. Over and over, Dana and I looked to Micah for answers, but this was a world beyond even his understanding.
“Why are they fighting?” Dana might ask.
“I don’t know,” Micah would answer.
“Who started it?” I’d chime in.
“I don’t think grown-ups fight like that. I think they start at the same time.”
“Why don’t they just kiss each other and stop being mad?” Dana fretted.
“I don’t know.”
“Should we say a prayer?”
Micah would nod, and we’d pray and then we’d listen, trying to see if our prayers had been answered. Sometimes they would, sometimes they wouldn’t, but either way, we’d finally force ourselves to lie down again. Staring at the ceiling, we’d watch the shadows, feeling more frightened than we’d ever felt while watching one of my dad’s horror movies.
CHAPTER 5
Fort Lauderdale, Florida
January 22–23
During the days leading up to the trip, my wife and I began shopping for the items I would need to take with me. TCS had requested that we pack everything in a single suitcase, informing us that it was best to prepare for all types of weather. This was easier said than done, considering we were going to be in the Southern Hemisphere in the summer, where temperatures in Australia would probably exceed a hundred degrees, and three hundred miles above the Arctic Circle in the middle of winter, when we finally finished in Norway.
Then there were toiletry items, most of which are easily accessible in the United States, but less so in foreign countries such as Cambodia or Ethiopia, two countries in which the median income was less than $500 a year. In the end, I brought three pairs of pants, three pairs of shorts, and six shirts, in addition to undergarments and everything else I thought I needed. I got a pair of rugged walking shoes made of leather and Gore-Tex.
I’d also made arrangements to rent a satellite phone for use on the trip, but I’d been warned that it wasn’t always dependable. Because of the exotic locations, varying topographies, and the ever-changing position of the satellite overhead, receiving calls would be mostly impossible. And though I would be able to call Cathy, the ever changing time zones and flights would make it difficult to stay in touch on a regular basis. Everything fit into the suitcase and carry-on with room to spare, since I knew I’d be picking up souvenirs along the way.
My workload hadn’t diminished at all—a novel that should already have been delivered was only half completed, and I had no idea where to take the story next. The feeling had begun to haunt me to the point that I couldn’t sleep at night, but I promised Cat that I wasn’t going to work on it. Nonetheless, I slipped a notebook into the suitcase, just in case I changed my mind.
During the last week, I spent as much time as I could with the kids—trying my best to forget the fact that it was only leaving me further behind in my work. Cat and I went out for a farewell dinner the night before my departure. At noon the following day, she drove me to the airport. Though the trip around the world wouldn’t commence until Friday, January 24, my brother and I were flying to Fort Lauderdale two days early, and planned to meet at the airport.
“So this is it,” I said, trying to summon enthusiasm for the trip. Despite my epiphany, I still wasn’t looking forward to going. By then, I suppose, my ambivalence had become a habit.
“You have everything, right?” Cat asked. “Passport, phone, cash . . .”
“Got it all,” I said.
She nodded. “Have a good time,” she said.
“I’ll try.”
“No,” she said patiently, “have a good time.”
I gave her a hug. “I love you, Cat.”
“I love you, too.”
“Kiss the kids for me every night.”
“I will.”
“Try not to work too hard while I’m gone.”
She laughed, about to say the same thing to me. “You owe me for this, you know. You can’t believe how much you owe me.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be ignoring the credit card bills for months.”
“More like years,” she said. “Or even decades.”
We kissed one last time. During my flight, all I could do was think about her, and how lucky I was to have married her. Visions of the trip never entered my mind at all.
A couple of hours later, I arrived in Fort Lauderdale under sunny skies, retrieved my luggage, and waited for my brother in the baggage section of the airport. I called Cat to tell her I made it, then took a seat on one of the benches, waiting for him.
A half hour later, Micah wasn’t hard to spot walking through the airport. Tall and blond, he had a tendency to stand out in a crowd. As soon as he spotted me from across the baggage terminal, he thrust his arms above his head. I knew what was coming and cringed.
“NICKY, MY BROTHER! I HAVE FINALLY ARRIVED AND THE FESTIVITIES CAN BEGIN!”
His voice boomed in the terminal. Strangers gawked and turned to me in shock. I felt their eyes focusing on me.
“Obviously my brother doesn’t get out much,” I murmured.
A few moments later, amid a crowd that had suddenly given us plenty of room, we were hugging.
“You seem to be feeling pretty good, Micah.”
“Had a couple of cocktails on the plane,” he said easily. “Getting in the proper mood.”
As soon as we separated, his eyes seemed to light up even more.
“Can you believe we’re really going?” he asked. “In two days, our adventure begins.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You getting excited yet?”
“Of course.”
“No you’re not. This”—he said, motioning to himself—“is what excited looks like. You don’t look excited.”
“I’m excited on the inside.”
He rolled his eyes. “How was your flight?”
“Good. And yours?”
“It was great. Sat next to a couple of neat people. I told them all about the trip. They couldn’t believe it. Have you called Cat to tell her you made it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, we just talked a few minutes ago. Do you want to call Christine?”
“I will in a little while. I need to unwind first. Stretch my legs for a while. Gotta stay in shape, you know. I’m gonna do quite a bit of hiking over the next few weeks.”
“You are?”
“Didn’t I tell you?” His voice began to rise as he went on. “I’m going AROUND THE WORLD WITH MY BROTHER!”
The crowd parted even more, some of them looking frightened now.
“Hey, you hungry?” he suddenly asked.
“A little.”
“Well, I’m starved. You want to get something to eat after we drop our luggage off at the hotel?”
“You got it.”
The luggage carousel finally lurched to life, and I was busy scanning the assorted suitcases for his luggage when suddenly he pointed.
“There it is. The red one.”
It was undoubtedly the largest suitcase I’d ever seen, absolutely massive. At least twice the size of mine, it was straining at the seams and bulging in the middle. Micah needed both hands and a couple of grunts to retrieve it. When he set it upright, so that it could be wheeled, it seemed to spread even wider.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, satisfied. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure you brought enough?”
“Got everything I need.”
I stared at the suitcase. “It looks like you packed a small farm animal in there.”
“One thing I’ve learned is that you can never bring too much stuff when you’re traveling.”
“I always thought the opposite was true.”
He winked. “No, that’s just a myth put out by the airlines. Don’t believe it. And when you run out of things on the trip, don’t worry—I’ll be happy to share.”
We found a restaurant in downtown Fort Lauderdale where we ate outside and watched people wander in and out of bars up and down the street.
We bantered back and forth until finally Micah paused. Leaning back in his chair, he squinted at me.
“You’re still not into this, are you? What we’re doing, I mean?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Did you ever think you might be depressed?”
“I’m not depressed. Just busy.”
“It runs in our family, you know. Some of our relatives are depressed.”
“I’m not depressed.”
“They have medication now. It might do you some good.”
“I don’t need medication.”
“Denial is an ugly thing, Nicky.”
“I’m not in denial.”
“See what I mean? That’s denial.”
“You’re a pain, you know that?”
“Yeah. That’s what Christine says.”
“She’s a smart lady.”
“That she is. But she’s not here, and right now, we’re talking about you. So why are you depressed, little brother? You’re definitely not excited about this, and we’re on the verge of leaving. Talk to me. I’ll be your shrink.”
“I’m not depressed,” I said again. “Like I said, I’m swamped. You have no idea how busy I’ve been. It’s just . . . not the right time for something like this.”
“That’s not true,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re choosing to let life control you, instead of the other way around. That’s the big secret. You choose the kind of life you want to live.”
“You always say that.”
“Only because it’s true. Using you as an example—you’re busy because you’re behind on all your deadlines and want to catch up, right?”
“Exactly.”
“But what if you missed your deadline? It’s not as if you’re going to get fired, are you?”
“No, but—”
“But you think bad things will happen if you do,” he finished for me. “So, in other words, you’re making a choice. And if it’s your choice, then accept it, but don’t let it control you. In the same way, you can choose to be excited about the trip. That’s entirely up to you.”
I looked away, shaking my head. “It’s not always that easy,” I said slowly. “You don’t choose everything. Sometimes life throws you curveballs.”
“You don’t think I know that?” he said softly. “Look, just so you know, this trip is going to be great. You just wait. After all this is over, you’ll look back and be glad you came. And then you’ll thank me for bringing you along.”
“I invited you to come, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” He shrugged. “Well, in that case, be a good host, and stop ruining my buzz.” He turned to get the waitress’s attention. “This man needs a cocktail.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
Maybe it was my brother’s pep talk, or maybe it was the cocktail, but whatever the reason I gradually warmed to the idea of going. Whether I had time to go was now irrelevant, after all, and my brother’s good mood was infectious. My brother has always had this effect on me. With his confidence and easygoing manner, he has always been a hit at parties, and he’d been the best man in six different weddings. Six.
The next day, we went by the reception room TCS had arranged to check in for the trip. We signed in, gave them our passports, and got our luggage tags. Each was large, pink, and numbered, so that the TCS crew could easily make sure every bag was accounted for. One of the nice things about the trip, we would later learn, is that TCS handled all the luggage. Our only responsibility would be to have the luggage outside our hotel room at the appointed time.
We spent the afternoon relaxing by the pool, and later that evening we attended an introductory cocktail party and dinner. It was our first chance to meet our fellow travelers.
There would be eighty-six of us on the trip, most of whom were considerably older than Micah or I. We began the gradual process of getting to know our traveling companions.
We mingled and chatted with a few people, and eventually made our way to the ballroom, where tables had been set up. As we ate, we were introduced to the TCS staff; quite a few would be traveling with us, to make sure everything went smoothly. We were introduced to guest lecturers and Jill Hannah, the physician who would attend to any medical issues that might arise.
Only a couple of years older than we were, she smiled easily, and would end up becoming one of our closest friends on the trip. Auspiciously, she was seated at our table.
“Any words of advice?” I asked her.
“Don’t eat the vegetables or salads, no matter how nice the hotel is.”
“Because of the fertilizers or soil?”
“No,” she said. “Because they wash them in the local water, and you never know whether it’s been purified.”