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“Was it awful?” Mom was asking, her eyes wide with worry.
“It wasn’t so bad,” Lucy said with a smile, hoping they didn’t notice the pink that crept into her cheeks. “We were only in there for, like, half an hour.” She paused, realizing for the first time that it was true—it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes. How had it felt like so much more? “The worst part was the heat,” she continued. “That was pretty horrible.”
They both nodded, like they wanted to hear more, but she thought she noticed Dad sneak a glance at his watch, and Mom’s foot had started to bob in the way it did sometimes when guests at their di
“You should have seen it, though,” Lucy pressed on. “The whole skyline just blinked out. And all the streets were completely full of people. It was unbelievable.”
This time, Dad didn’t bother to disguise it when he looked at his watch, and Mom cleared her throat. “Listen, darling,” she said. “We want to hear a lot more about all this at di
“Oh,” Lucy said. “Where?”
Dad looked up, his face a picture of confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Lucy said, raising her eyebrows, “where are you pla
“We made some plans before we knew you’d be here, too,” Mom said, giving Dad a sideways glance. “I’m getting my hair done, and your father has… a meeting.”
Lucy turned back to him, but he seemed suddenly interested in his shoes. “Well, where is it? Maybe I’ll tag along, go explore a new neighborhood…”
He coughed, his face reddening. “We just assumed you’d be tired.”
“I slept on the plane,” she said, and they exchanged a look. “Okay, seriously,” she said, glancing from one to the other. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Dad started to say, but Mom rolled her eyes.
“Let’s just tell her now.”
“Tell me what?” Lucy asked, suddenly anxious.
Dad was playing with his wedding ring, a nervous habit of his. “We were going to wait for di
“Listen,” Mom said, taking one of Lucy’s hands in hers. “You know how much I miss it over here.”
Lucy nodded, frowning.
“And you know that we’d always pla
This was true. Ever since she was little, Mom had spoken dreamily of returning to London. She’d never really been at home in New York, where she found the summers too hot and the people too rude, the garbage too visible and the culture too limited. It had only ever been a matter of time before they moved back to London, where they’d first met all those years ago, and Lucy and her brothers had always known this. But they’d promised it wouldn’t be until all three kids had left for college. Now, however, Mom was giving Lucy a pleading look, though whether for understanding or forgiveness, she didn’t know.
“Well,” she was saying, her voice a bit too bright, “an opportunity has come up a little early.”
“They called me about an open position in the UK office,” Dad jumped in, his eyes shining behind his glasses. “I’d heard rumors about it, but it’s very, very high level, so I didn’t think I’d have a shot.…”
“But it looks like he might,” Mom finished, looking at him proudly. “And it won’t be long now until we find out for sure.”
“Right,” Dad said. “Just a few more meetings today, and then we’ll see.…”
Lucy stared at him. “So we’d be moving to London?”
“Yes,” Dad said, beaming.
“Next year?”
Mom shook her head. “Next month.”
“Next month?” Lucy asked, reeling a bit. She could feel that her voice had risen an octave and her eyes had gone wide, but she couldn’t help it. Next month, she thought, astonished by the nearness of it.
“It wouldn’t be—” Dad began, but Lucy cut him off.
“What about the apartment?”
“Well, we’d keep it, of course,” he said. “In case we wanted to go back for the summer, or if the boys ended up with internships there…”
Lucy stared at him. “What about school?”
“I’ve looked into it,” Mom said with a hint of a smile, “and it seems they have those over here as well. And since you’ve never exactly loved your old school…”
She was right, of course, but Lucy still wasn’t sure what to say. After sixteen whole years in New York, it almost didn’t matter what she loved and what she didn’t; the city was a part of her, and she a part of it. The idea that she could be living in London in just a few short weeks struck her as wildly unimaginable. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, blinking at them.
“I know this is a lot of information all at once,” Mom said gently, her brow furrowed as she looked over at Dad. He leaned forward, steepling his hands together.
“And it’s not for sure yet,” he said. “Though I’m hoping we’ll have something to celebrate soon…”
“London,” Lucy repeated, and Mom smiled encouragingly.
“You love it here.”
“I love New York, too.”
Dad waved this away. “We’ve done New York,” he said. “It’s time for a change, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said, fumbling for the words. “I—”
“Why don’t we pick this up over di
“I’m not—” Lucy was about to say tired, but there didn’t seem to be a point. Dad stood there smoothing his tie, while Mom rose to grab her purse. “That sounds fine.”
They left in a flurry of noise—reminders that if she needed anything, Lucy could call the front desk, and that she should feel free to order room service if she was hungry; they gave her some cash and promised they’d see her soon; they told her not to think too much about what they’d discussed until they all knew more—and then they were gone, and Lucy was alone again.
London, she thought, the word sinking inside her.
She waited only a few minutes before grabbing her bag and heading out the door, too restless to stay put. As she walked, her mind spun furiously, and she found herself gawking at everything she passed, the white columned buildings and the striped crosswalks, the pharmacies and fruit shops, the cafés and pubs: the whole world suddenly seen through a whole new lens.
Everything was so different here, which had—only hours before—been precisely the point. But now it felt foreign and strange, the unusual street names and the squat buildings; the shops were unfamiliar, and the traffic was heading in the wrong direction, and it was only the first week of September, but everyone was already wearing winter coats.
Lucy wasn’t sure where she was exactly, but she kept moving anyway, too anxious to do anything but walk. A low fog hung over the streets, making everything damp and silvery, and she tugged the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands and pushed on.
It wasn’t until she found herself approaching Piccadilly Circus—the huge electric signs burning through the mist—that she paused. It was the very first thing that reminded her of New York, and she stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, thinking of Times Square, the panic loosening its grip on her. She took a deep breath as she sca
It was beautiful, in a way. In its own way. And she thought it again—London—only this time, there was something lighter about it, a word like a sigh, like a possibility.
Just as she was about to turn back for the hotel, she spotted a small souvenir shop up ahead, the windows filled with little red buses and teacups with pictures of the queen. She walked over to take a closer look, drawn by the display of postcards just outside the door, and she spun the rack so that the images whizzed by in a blur of color: Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and a series of red phone booths.