“Despite the unfortunate circumstances, I’m so excited to have you come home. However, you should take some detours – see some of the country. Take some time to rest and recuperate. Enjoy your newfound freedom now that you’ve ditched the loser. Maybe even get laid. The house isn’t going anywhere and will be waiting for you. Go on an adventure! You deserve it.”
“Maybe next time. Right now, I feel adrift and want a place to plant my feet. All I want to do is sit on my butt, read a good book, and eat my weight in ice cream. Once I feel better, maybe I’ll go on some adventures. Zizi, do you ever just… stop?” I ask, pushing a strand of hair back from my face. “You’re always on the go. Don’t you ever just want to relax?”
“Relax?” she asks, sounding skeptical. “And do what?”
“I don’t know. Just… breathe.” I bite my lip, unsure how to explain my need for solitude and peace. “I just need to find a place to settle and recover for a while before diving headfirst into a job search. Or dating.” I grimace at the thought of putting myself back into the dating pool. I’d rather get a root canal than download a dating app.
Keeping a wary eye on the semi-truck changing lanes ahead of me, I add, “Now is just not the time for an adventure.”
At that, Aunt Zizi laughs. It’s a warm, easy sound that brings comfort in its familiarity. “Lilith,” she says, “there’s no time like the present for an adventure. Why delay when you could seize the day?”
“Maybe once I’ve recovered, Zizi.”
“But that’s the beauty of life, my dear; I find that having an adventure is the key to healing,” Aunt Zizi replies. “And you never know when an adventure is around the corner.”
I smile at her enthusiasm but don’t give her any false hope with an answer. I’m a bit of a homebody, especially compared to her. Most of my adventures are found inside a book, not in the real world.
“To be honest, Lily, I’m glad you finally dumped that loser. I can now dismantle my sacrificial altar to the gods. I’ve been praying that Marcus would be hit by a bus and you’d finally be rid of his dead weight.”
Well, damn, Aunt Zizi, how do you really feel?
“Oh, come on, Zizi. He wasn’t that bad.”
“No, you’re right. He was worse. You spent the last few years walking on so many eggshells around him that I’m surprised your feet don’t have scars.”
I huff an exasperated breath at her hyperbole, but Aunt Zizi is on a roll.
“That prick turned weaponized incompetence into an art form. Oh, Lily, you do it. You’re soooo much better at doing the laundry than me. I don’t understand how to not ‘accidentally’ put a red sock in with your whites.” Zizi’s voice has taken on a nasally, whiny tone that makes me grimace because she isn’t wrong – about Marcus’s poor-me voice or his manipulations.
“Oh, Lily-bear – I hated the nickname, by the way – can you make all my appointments for me? And then, when you try to tell me you’re overwhelmed, I’ll turn it around until you’re apologizing to me because you hurt my little momma’s boy feelings. Wah wah wah.”
Alright, the fake crying is a bit much, but Zizi’s antics are pulling me out of my funk. Just like I’m sure she’s intending. “Okay. Okay, Aunt Zizi!” I interrupt her recreation of a toddler’s temper tantrum. “I get it. Marcus was a dick.”
“A dickless dick,” I hear Aunt Zizi mutter angrily under her breath, but I let it go and move on.
“He really was. Disappointing on all fronts now that I’m letting myself be honest.” I blow out a breath and redirect my thoughts to better things. “Is there anything you need me to pick up on the way?” I offer as a distraction from Aunt Zizi’s current ‘I-hate-Marcus’ boner.
“No, the house is ready for you. As you know, I won’t be home when you arrive. But I’ll be back in two weeks. I’ve already cleared out the spare room, so everything is ready. It’ll be just like old times! The two of us back together again. Although I hate the circumstances, I’m excited to have you home, Lily. Don’t forget, the spare key is hidden under the gnome in the front yard. You’ll find it easily,” she says, referring to the garden gnome we picked up together in Germany’s Black Forest not long before I left for college. It was our last hurrah before I needed to buckle down and work toward getting my nursing degree.
I suppress a laugh at that. “Got it. The gnome is the gatekeeper. How’s New Zealand?”
“It’s gorgeous, of course. However, I wish I could’ve canceled this trip so I’d be home when you arrive. But I booked the tickets months ago, and my deadline is fast approaching.”
“Aunt Zizi, no way. I will be fine on my own for a couple of weeks. I don’t want to interfere with your work or your life.” Feeling guilty, I redirect my aunt’s attention. “So, what’s on your itinerary next?”
“I’m going to see the Waitomo Glowworm caves! I’ve chartered a small boat to explore the caves, you know, to give it a more intimate touch. It’s home to thousands of tiny bioluminescent glowworms. It’s supposed to be breathtaking,” she says. Her voice brims with infectious excitement.
I laugh at her enthusiasm. “Are you serious, Aunt Zizi? Worms?”
A dark, damp cave filled with worms, even ones that glowed, did not sound like a good time to me. The idea of being underground with tons of earth weighing down over my head and filled with slimy bugs fills me with a kind of primordial revulsion that makes a shudder run down my spine.
“Oh, yes. I can just imagine all the amazing photos I’m gonna get! It’s going to make for one hell of a magazine spread. I hope the photographer I’ve hired will be able to get good shots. The last guy was a total dud.”
It seems like no unknown fear or the dark looming caves can deter the unwavering spirit of Aunt Zinnia. But then again, that’s Aunt Zizi, a fearless adventurer with the heart of a wanderer. Always seeking the new, the exciting, the extraordinary.
“Enough about me, darling,” Zizi urges, “how are you doing? You know, after Marcus?”
The mention of his name stings, but I swallow the pain down and muster a slight chuckle. Mostly, I’m just embarrassed. I should’ve walked away much sooner than I did. Deep down, I’d known a year ago that our relationship was over. Marcus had turned me into a nag who had to beg for any crumb of attention. He had been too busy playing games on his computer and letting me carry all the emotional – and physical – weight of our relationship.
I was done accepting crumbs – being alone was better than settling for that.
“I’m doing fine, Aunt Zizi. I am. This is exactly what I need – a new beginning. I’m done putting all the effort into someone and getting nothing in return, you know what I mean?” I say, smiling at Mango, the only male in my life I’m willing to put any effort towards.
“You need to stop being a rehabilitation program for broken men. You need a whole, emotionally healthy man,” Aunt Zizi teases, laughter in her voice. “Not someone you need to fix.”
“From your lips to God’s—”
The semi-truck in front of me suddenly switches lanes again, pulling my attention back to the traffic and away from the conversation with Aunt Zizi. The truck’s movements reveal a sign for an exit that was obscured until now. ‘LUBLIN HARBOR’ it reads in bold, blocky letters. Underneath the name, a placard hangs, the fresh paint gleaming a cheery yellow. “Springtime Festival!” it proclaims enthusiastically in a loopy, playful script.
I can already imagine the sounds of celebration, the colorful stalls, the smell of funnel cakes, and maybe even blooming flowers. Festivals always seem to have a life of their own, an effervescent energy that transcends the ordinary and invites participants to forget their worries for a while. Perhaps Lublin Harbor’s Springtime Festival will offer that much-needed escape.
Almost on automatic pilot, I flip my blinker and maneuver the car towards the right, preparing for the exit. “I gotta go, Aunt Zizi. There’s an exit up ahead. I need to stretch my legs and get some food. Plus, Mango could use some fresh air,” I announce, excitement lacing each word. “There’s this town, Lublin Harbor, advertising a springtime festival. Sounds like the kind of adventure you’d prescribe.”
“That’s the spirit,” she crows. “Go have some fun! And maybe get laid!”
“Zizi!” I exclaim, half laughing and half exasperated.
As I end the call with Aunt Zizi, I take the exit to Lublin Harbor.
