Coming Of Age
Sailing in the Bahamas is a dream come true, right? Clear blue water, suntanning every day, cocktails on the deck with ice cubes clinking, tropical fish, brightly colored coral reefs.
"This is our house and we make the rules, Dime. If we say you're home at nine, that's when you walk in the door! No excuses!" Dad shouted.
Their house, not mine. For a moment, my eyes burned, and I thought I was about to cry. Then I got it under control. I slid a smile over my mouth and looked him straight in the eye.
"Make me," I said softly.
—Diana, ésta es nuestra casa y nosotros ponemos las reglas. ¡Si te decimos que tienes que estar de regreso a las nueve, ésa es la hora de entrar por la puerta! No hay nada más que hablar —gritó.
Su casa, no li mía, pensé. Por un momento me ardieron los ojos y pensé que iba a llorar, pero logré controlarme, sonreí y dije bajito mirándolo a los ojos:
—Trata de oligarme.
Tarksalik is about forty feet ahead of me, running by the side of the road. I can tell she's got sled-dog blood in her from the way she runs: head high, legs taut.
The sun has just come up, and when it lands on Tarksalik, it looks like she's shining too. For the first time since I found out I'd be spending this term in Nunavik, in northern Quebec, getting reacquainted with my dad, I don't feel one hundred percent miserable. Right now, as I let the fresh cold air fill my lungs, I'd say I'm down to about eighty-five percent miserable.
Maybe, I think as I watch Tarksalik run, this visit won't turn out to be a total disaster. Maybe there's more to life than Montreal.
