I hear my dad’s voice, and then my mom turns the screen so I can see him.

He comes into frame and I feel a warm surge of affection for him. He also looks the same as ever. Maybe a little fitter.

“How’s LA?” he asks.

My mom glares at him.

“I thought you gave her the money to—” says my dad.

She shushes him patiently and looks to me to answer.

“LA?” I ask.

“Did you change your mind? When I saw you were still in Avalon, I wondered.”

God, this is a tight rope to tread.

I consider telling them the truth. Just as quickly, I decide I definitely can’t. She has plans. She never goes out and does fun things. She never goes to Italy. Well, maybe this version of her does, but still. I can’t dump all of this on her, because realistically, if I tell her, she’s going to think I’ve had some kind of breakdown. Then my parents would probably end up hopping on the next flight to Ireland. And as much as I’d love that right now, I don’t think that’s what anyone really needs. If all this doesn’t begin to make sense soon, I’ll tell her. Maybe I am having a breakdown, but I need a little longer to make sure.

“Listen, I know I got a little protective when you talked about going. It’s just, Hollywood, you know? It’s got such a terrible reputation for taking talented people like you and ruining their lives. Even when it goes well!”

I’m starting to get it. I was going to LA. To move or to visit, I’m not sure.

“I was just going to scope it out,” I say, tentatively.

“Right, and that’s why I shouldn’t have freaked out. It would be nice to have you back in the States, even if it is pretty far still. Maybe you’d visit more!”

Ha. Try never.

“Right,” I say.

“Are you okay, Meg? You seem a little…” She makes a hand and head gesture I recognize of hers that means topsy-turvy.

“I’m about to go to Aimee’s house for Clare’s birthday party, so I’m a little frazzled. That’s why I canceled the trip,” I improvise. “Aimee finally wanted to patch things up so I had to take her up on it.”

I gamble on the fact that I’ve told my mom everything, including that Aimee and I are not speaking. I brace for them to say Aimee’s been dead for years.

They exchange a look and then I’m certain that’s what they’ll say.

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful!”

“That’s great,” says my dad. “Tell her we say hello, will you?”

“And give those sweet little ones a squeeze from us! Oh, they must be so happy to have their Auntie Meggie back.”

My cheeks sting.