Page 54 of Wild About You
“Thank you,” Finn manages with shaking breath. “I—I think he would.”
“Of course he would. You’re smart and creative and you’ve always been great at tackling each new challenge with dedication and courage. I see more of Dad in you every day—” His mom has to pause, and a stoic Frannie puts an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be too sappy. Point is, you’re following through on both his and your dream, and even if you come home tomorrow, we hope you still feel pleased with all you’ve done and the amazing person you are.”
“But try not to come home tomorrow,” Frannie teases, and Finn and I, along with the whole teary group, laugh.
“We’ll do our best,” Finn says with a squeeze of my hand, and I wave to the screen with my free one.
“Is that your partner? Hi! We can’t wait to watch you two together!” His mom gives me an enthusiastic wave, and Frannie smirks at her as though to tell her to chill. She doesn’t give Finn or me time to respond, which is fortunate, as I have no clue what to say right now. “Have fun, stay safe, and we’ll see you when we see you!”
Finn tells them he loves them and they say their goodbyes, and when I look over at the rest of the group, there’s not a dry eye in the woods. Burke connects the next video call, and I finally chance a look back. Our clasped hands still rest on my shoulder, Finn’s white-knuckling mine in a way that isn’t sustainable for my circulation, but I won’t say anything just yet. Especially when I see his face, tracked with tears that he isn’t even bothering to wipe away. His chin trembles as the moisture collects under it and drips onto the ground.
I try to be subtle as I pat under my eyes with my sleeve, facing forward again to watch the rest of Evan’s greeting from home. Apparently I am absolutely wrecked by proud, loving families expressing said pride and love. Duly noted.
As I watch, I realize I’m the last one left without a call. Nerves kick in for the first time, rumbling in my stomach, tightening my chest. What are my parents going to say? They barely know what I’m doing here and definitely don’t care, let alone feel proud of me for it. And how the hell did Wild Adventures even get in touch with them? Were my folks nice about it, or is it another strike in the Natalie Is A Huge Burden column in their black book of all my faults? How is this going to be anything but the most awkward call ever?
When Burke turns the screen back around, I no longer have to wonder.
“Nat! Our love, our life!” Reese squeals. Clara and Reese’s boyfriend, Benny, crowd into the selfie cam frame on either side of her.
“Natalieee,” Benny sings in a strange opera voice, and Clara, the most camera-shy of us all, waves. “You’re aliiive!”
Reese covers Benny’s mouth with her hand. “And we are not at all surprised by that!”
“You’re not?” I force a laugh over all the mixed emotions rioting in me. “I kind of am.”
“No way! You’re such a badass at everything you do, so of course you’d be the same out there. You take anything life throws at you and make it your b—best experience yet.”
Clara cuts in as Reese makes an awkward, almost-cursed-on-camera face. “Personally, I’m impressed at how well you appear to have kept up your makeup routine.”
“Obviously,” I say with a smirk, hiding as many of my feelings as I can behind the façade of sass. Total Natalie move. “How are y’all?”
“Same old stuff around here, plus Clar came to visit,” Reese says.
“Is that your partner behind you?” Benny asks, and I nod. “Man, I’m sorry for your luck. It must be rough, and if you need to talk about it, I’m—”
“Oh, hush, Norberto!” I snap. He’s hitting a bit too close to the mark. “I know a lot of good places to bury a body now.”
“I take it back.” Benny waves his hand at the camera as if to clear the record. “Can we cut that whole exchange in the final episode? I did not consent to her use of my first name in front of the viewing public!”
“As we were saying,” Reese enunciates slowly, cutting her boyfriend a sharp look. “We are really proud of you, and impressed by how far you’ve gone, and please come back soon. I mean, win the money first, then hurry on home so we can love on you and maybe throw a parade in your honor. That seems appropriate, right?”
“Not only appropriate, but necessary,” Clara agrees with a decisive nod. “Okay, keep being incredible!”
“I love y’all,” I mumble through my inevitable tears.
“We love you!”
“See you soon!”
The screen goes black, and the group in the woods breaks into emotion-drenched applause and excited chatter about how wonderful that was. I clap somewhat mindlessly and think I manage a semblance of a smile, but I’m no longer feeling the same uplifted, good vibes of everyone else.
It was wonderful to see my best friends’ faces. To hear they love me and think I’m amazing and kicking ass in the competition—even Benny, who only teases because he loves me—however unfounded I think their confidence is.
But it’s not lost on me that I’m the only one without a family member sending a greeting from home.
All at once, I’m back in the lobby outside my high school’s auditorium, where everyone gathered after our theater productions to greet the cast, give out flowers and hugs, share praise and congratulations. Everyone’s families and closest friends and even randoms from school who just felt like seeing the show. But for me and those close enough to know me, there was always a glaring absence in the group. My parents. They didn’t come to any of my shows in my whole high school theater career. At first, there were excuses—not being able to get away from work, or the more vague “things to do.” Eventually, those broke down into, “Another show? Didn’t you just wrap up the last one?” and “Where do you think all this is going? No one actually makes it as a professional actress.”
I heard the message, loud and clear: we don’t believe in you, we’re not interested in what you’re up to, and we’re not going to waste our time pretending otherwise.