I was groggy despite what I thought was a full night’s sleep. The morning was almost obnoxious in its brightness. Not a cloud in the sky. I stretched my limbs. No dreams last night, at least nothing I remembered upon waking.
Out of my window, I could see a trio of banksia trees slowly moving in the wind. There was the loud, cheerful chirrup of birds too, and the distant moan of traffic in the distance. The distinctive laugh of a kookaburra, an uncommon but not unheard bird within the city limits, reminded me: I was home. But … my memories were a mess, a tangled ball of yarn. I may have returned home, but my home was not the same as before, and I was also different.
Uncertain what the day would bring, I quickly showered and put on some makeup, concealing my sunburned spots. Having access to my closet, with its abundant selection of clothes, presented too many choices, and it took me longer than average to dress myself. I finally settled on some light blue jeans and a pale lilac button-down shirt. I’d always loved the way its color contrasted with my skin. But now, with my sunburns still healing, nothing could fully hide the consequences of my desert wanderings. I wore my hair down; it had lost its shine and thickness since the oasis and looked messy and felt frail to the touch.
Delaying going outside of my bedroom, I repacked my bag, taking out some unnecessary items. The tablet was in there, hidden in the zippered pocket. I avoided touching it, but the skin on my fingers was practically singing in anticipation of contact.
My phone was missing. Last time I used it was when I spoke with Tommy before bed. Something about dreams and nightmares and the pit filled with bones.
I needed my phone. On cue, it pinged from under the bed covers. As the phone’s screen came alive in my hand, notifications flooded it. It was a group text from Lori that immediately hijacked my attention.
Tablet emergency. Something’s wrong. Meeting in Silver Crescent to discuss this afternoon.
I frowned. What was Lori’s experience like last night? Was her family reunion bustling and satisfying? Or did things get weird quickly, sending Lori into some foggy maze of tablet-induced nightmares?
I reread Lori’s short message again. Silver Crescent meant her parents’ summer house. She probably wanted to meet there because being away from adult supervision meant we wouldn’t have to pretend everything was all right. But this little trip to the coast was going to be difficult to explain to my parents, especially with my mother here and wanting to see me. I could hear her laughing in the living room. Plus the place was starting to smell of pancakes and coffee. The scent combination that used to soothe me years ago now was sending me into a near panic attack. Maybe my parents’ reunion wasn’t what I really wanted.
I texted back to the group:
I’ll see if I can get away. But what about Minh?
While I waited for anyone to respond, I scrolled through my social media and even googled Minh to see if there were any updates about her health. There was nothing. Like at all. Even all those Dubai Six news pieces were old now. I guess we were being forgotten already. Or maybe the tablet didn’t want any extended attention on us. On it. Growing impatient, I stared at the screen of my phone and compulsively hit refresh on the group chat. I was beginning to expect some reality shift to occur, for someone to ask “Minh who?” And maybe it was a valid question. After all, everything in my head was covered in thick smoke.
Relief came from Tommy, who texted me privately, offering me a ride first to the hospital to see Minh, then to Silver Crescent for our secret tablet meeting. Though I had a bad feeling about the latter, Lori was right—we did need to meet and discuss what the hell to do next. Did we just go on like nothing had happened? Did we try to study the tablet, research its true origin? Did we tell our parents? The last two possibilities made me deeply uncomfortable, my stomach actually roiling.
Okay, no external people then. The tablet was ours, and regardless of how we felt about it, the six of us were now connected. The tablet was our seventh. And it was a part of each and every one of us.
But first I needed to leave my room and face my parents. I braced for it and opened the door.
I walked into the living room and straight into a trap. Mom and Dad were perched side by side on the couch. From the faux-causal expressions playing on their faces, I knew they’d been waiting for me to come out of my room. Three mismatched ceramic mugs and a family-size glass coffeepot (almost empty) were the only items on the table. The TV was off. Just like old times, and I mean old. But what really stood out to me was that Mom and Dad were holding hands. I don’t think my parents had been in the same room since I started high school. The sight of it should have been happy and fulfilling, but instead it scraped me the wrong way. A migraine started at the front of my head, making me cringe in pain as it spread.
“Where is the intervention banner?” I asked this strange couple on the couch. A fake smile was on my face, while I was mentally hurrying Tommy to get here, ring the doorbell, and rescue me from whatever this was.
“Come. Take a seat, Alif.” Mom patted the love seat to her right. The simple gesture made me break into an uncomfortable sweat. I hadn’t had a single meaningful conversation with either of my parents since before Dubai, and besides, the psychological distance between me and my mother was too long to bridge in one leap. But right now in this moment, it was that she was obviously brimming with uncontainable joy that weirded me out the most.
I stayed up on my feet. “I can’t stay long. Tommy’s picking me up … to go see Minh.”
“Oh.” Mom’s face fell at the mention of my friend. “I heard she had some kind of incident on the flight over. You and your friends have been through such horror. But Archer is in contact with her parents, and he updated us this morning. Minh’s stable and conscious. I can give you a ride to the hospital today, if you want.”
“Tommy’s taking me,” I reiterated. The possibility of spending quality time alone with my mom in the tight space of a car came with a fresh dose of dread.
“Tommy, huh? You two seem cozy together lately,” Dad said, his expression turning quizzical. “And I thought you weren’t Tommy’s biggest fan.”
“I guess being lost together in the desert has changed my perspective,” I replied.
“Who’s Tommy?” Mom asked, looking mischievous.
“He’s a good kid. My research assistant—who Alif apparently fancies.”
“I don’t…” I started to deny it but then thought, Whatever. It wasn’t a lie—I did fancy Tommy, even though Dad’s word choice to describe it made me want to giggle and roll my eyes simultaneously. “Never mind. It’s not like I’m going out with him or anything.” I was about to say “We’re just friends” when my eyes landed on my parents’ hands again, their fingers intertwining. Time for a topic change. “And what exactly is going on with you two?”
They exchanged looks. Or more like, The Look.
Mom smiled and said, “You’re like a skittish deer! Come. Sit. Please?”
“This will only take a minute.” Dad’s enthusiasm echoed hers. He winked at me, his face glowing with contentment.
I surrendered, doing as I was told, lowering myself onto the love seat and facing my parents. My bag was wedged between my side and the armrest, the close presence of the tablet anchoring me in this slice of reality. Further delaying the inevitable, I reached out for what was left of the coffee and poured it into the only clean mug, dregs and all.
After I took a big gulp and set down the mug, Mom grabbed ahold of my hand and said, “Your father and I, we’ve been doing a lot of talking ever since you went missing and especially after your father brought you back to safety…” She let go of my hand, but only to weave her fingers back with Dad’s.
And apparently it was Dad’s turn to speak. “And we decided that…” He looked at my mother.
She finished it off. “We’re getting back together.”
I stayed motionless and looked on with what I hoped seemed to be happiness in my eyes, while all I felt was emptiness. This idyllic picture before me was … too much. Too soon. Too perfect.
But isn’t this what I wanted?
“I hope we didn’t ambush you with this,” Mom said in a cautious voice. “How do you feel? I know this is sudden, but it also feels right to us. I’ve already quit my job in Birmingham.”
“You what?” I nearly choked on my second large sip of coffee. Mom just gave up her long-coveted tenure and was—what?—moving back to Melbourne, where academic jobs in her field and at her level were close to zero? Next was she going to say she’d be opening a coffeehouse or becoming a long-distance marathon runner?
“Oh, don’t look so terrified, Alif.” Mom laughed.
There was a stench of something burning, and a deafening white noise in my ears, not quite painful but uncomfortable. The room swam, the air moving in rough waves.
The doorbell was ringing. It took me a moment to register that.
I stood up too soon, wavering on my feet. Thankfully neither of my parents noticed—Mom had left her seat to open the door, and Dad was staring at her, his eyes not quite glazed over but … hypnotized into adoration? I was stuck trying to digest how I really felt about them back together. I never really knew the main reason they split up. There were many little reasons that accumulated into a relationship-killing avalanche, but I always suspected it was their off-the-charts competitiveness that drove them apart. They were both brilliant people working in the same field. Maybe it was all great at first, but eventually one of them must’ve gotten more of something and the other felt left out, and then it snowballed from there. And now Mom was quitting her job because of what—love? Right. Still, I tried to muster some glee at this new reality in which my parents were back together and failed. I just couldn’t swallow it, this sickeningly sweet pill.
But I had to keep it together. Tommy was now in the room. I’d missed the part when Mom invited him to have breakfast and he accepted. Fast-forward to the most awkward gathering at our kitchen table yet, where Tommy was treated like he was my long-term boyfriend. I studied his reactions, trying to catch him in any moments of WTF confusion—at seeing these doppelgängers of my parents or at being treated like the son they’d never had—but he seemed to be adjusting pretty well. A faint, distant memory unfurled in my head. Back in the oasis, when Tommy and I had been experimenting with the tablet and I kissed him, I just assumed that being with me was his “wish,” something that the tablet granted, but what if his deepest wish was something else. A family? Belonging?
Amid our pancake- and coffee-devouring frenzy, Tommy found my eyes and shrugged, as if he were trying to tell me, Well, what can you do, huh? But I couldn’t ignore that my stomach was in knots and my hands were cold and tingling.