“That is exactly why you need to turn it off.”
The first six hours were awful.
I kept reaching toward my pocket even though the phone was inside a drawer.
I imagined emergencies.
Burst pipes.
Hospital visits.
Car accidents.
Bank problems.
By the second day, something remarkable happened.
Nothing.
Nobody died because Julian was unavailable.
The world continued functioning.
Noah and I hiked.
We ate pancakes at a tiny diner where an elderly waitress called everybody sweetheart.
We sat beside a fireplace and read.
We made terrible coffee in an ancient machine and drank it anyway.
I slept almost nine uninterrupted hours one night.
I had not realized how chronically tense my body had become until it briefly stopped being tense.
On the final morning, I took a photograph of two coffee mugs sitting on the porch railing with mist hanging over the valley.
I posted it online.
Much needed peace.
That was it.
When we turned our phones back on during the drive home, mine immediately began vibrating.
Marcus had written in the family chat:
Wow. Must be nice to just disappear.
My mother sent six private messages.
I saw your picture.
Glad somebody gets a vacation.
Would have been nice to know you were leaving town.
I was worried sick.
What if something happened?
Then came the message that hit exactly where she intended.
We have always been there for you, Julian. We sacrificed our youth to give you everything. But I guess when you finally get free time, you disappear like we don’t exist. It hurts realizing your own child can forget you so easily.
I read it three times.
The peace drained out of me so quickly it almost felt chemical.
My stomach tightened.
My chest hurt.
I started typing an apology.
Noah reached across from the driver’s seat and gently covered the phone with his hand.
“Don’t.”
“She’s hurt.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know she saw you happy for three days and immediately made your happiness about her suffering.”
I looked at the phone.
Noah’s jaw tightened.
“Your time only has value to them when they can use it.”
That sentence stayed with me.
And because I still had not fully escaped the conditioning, I reacted in the worst possible way.
I decided I needed to prove my family mattered to me.
So when my father invited everybody to a barbecue the following Saturday, I went.
I bought the wine.
I dressed nicely.
I promised Noah I would not stay too late.
“Two hours,” he said.
“I know.”
“If they start treating you badly—”
“I’ll leave.”
“You always say that.”
“I mean it.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I hope you do.”
The barbecue was already crowded when I arrived.
My uncle and aunt were there.
Two cousins.
Marcus and his wife, Chloe.
My parents.
Several family friends.
Arthur stood behind the grill exactly where he always stood, wearing an apron with KING OF THE GRILL printed across the front.
He raised his beer toward me.
“Look who decided to show up.”
A few people chuckled.
I smiled.
“Good to see you too.”
Eleanor hugged me with one arm while still talking to my aunt.
Marcus barely looked up from his phone.
Chloe gave me a small wave.
I walked around carrying the wine, searching for somewhere to place myself.
That was when I heard everybody talking about Florida.