Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
I watch as Dad flips the last piece of French toast onto the platter and passes it to me with a wink. “Order up.”
I huff out a laugh, taking the platter filled with enough French toast to feed the whole street, and head into the dining room. Mom has just finished setting the table, and is pouring coffee into three mugs.
“Here you go,” she says, handing me a mug as I set the plate in the centre of the table.
“Thanks.” I take a sip as I head to my chair, and Dad enters the dining room with a happy whistle.
“Alright,” he says, placing the maple syrup on the table. “Let’s eat.”
We all take our seats, and as usual, Dad serves Mom and me our French toast first. The little tradition that never changes, and always brings a smile to my lips.
“So, Mom and I will be away next weekend,” Dad says as he places a slice onto my plate.
“Where?” I ask, glancing at Mom as she smiles with excitement .
“We’re heading to Nova Scotia,” she says, taking the syrup Dad passes her. “We have tickets to a concert in Halifax, and then we thought we’d spend a few days exploring the South Shore. Your recent trip there inspired us.”
I smile as I think back to my trip to Nova Scotia just over a month ago, when I finally got to see and photograph a Red Tanager. “Are you going to Kejimkujik too?”
Mom snorts a laugh and shakes her head. “Oh, honey. No. You may be adventurous and camp in national parks, but the old folk will be finding bed and breakfasts in cute little villages.”
Dad chuckles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Who you calling old?”
“You, Neil,” she says without missing a beat. Then she turns back to me. “Any recommendations from your visit?”
But I just shrug, because I went straight to Kejimkujik National Park, camped there for four days, and came right back to Newfoundland. “I drove by a lot of fishing villages along the shore though. And the one I stopped in looked really nice,” I say, remembering the log general store on the water with the men sitting on the porch, drinking coffee as they watched the fishing boats come in.
“Sounds like we have some planning to do,” Dad says. “Should be a nice trip to kick off the summer.”
I nod, my gaze dropping to my plate as I take a bite of French toast. Summer is my busiest time, and even just the mention of it sends my mind into overdrive. It’s June now, and already things are picking up. Website sales are high, and I need to upload more to keep up with the demand. Requests are coming in from my regular clients, and I have some new ones popping up in my inbox. Then there’s my camping trip in Gros Morne I have planned, and I need to finalize plans for my other trips, since I always do three or four smaller ones around Newfoundland. And then my big trip to Labrador in October.
But just thinking about that trip, my stomach starts to twist. It’s usually the one I’m most excited for. But right now, there’s an unread email in my inbox from Newfound Tours, asking me to change everything about that trip. I haven’t even opened it yet, because her phone call made me so anxious. My plan is already made, and she’s asking me to change it. I can’t change it. And when I open the email, I’ll have to decide what to do. Take the job and rearrange everything, or tell them no.
Both options feel like a crushing weight pressing down on me.
I swallow hard and push my food around my plate, and I try hard to shift my thoughts to some of my favourite birds.
Brown Thrasher, Cuban Tody?—
“How is the bird doing?”
My eyes snap up to Dad’s smiling face.
“What?” I ask, the chaos in my mind slowly settling as I process his words, and the image of the Pine Grosbeak in Trevor’s kitchen pops into my thoughts.
“The bird you rescued.” Dad looks me over with a small tilt of his head. “How is it?”
I set my fork down, my spine automatically straightening as excitement pushes every other thought and feeling away. “Really good,” I say with a nod. “She’s almost halfway through recovery now. The fracture is healing well, and Trevor says he’ll be able to remove the pin soon. She’s moving her wing a lot more, even though she’s still restricted because of the splint, and Trevor says that’s a good thing. But when we changed the tape last time, a couple days ago, he was very pleased with the progress. He said these surgeries don’t always work on small birds like her, but it worked this time.” I nod again and look out the window as the trees rustle with the soft breeze. But then I turn back to my parents. “Oh, and she really likes Neville, she chirps a lot when he’s around. But I don’t know if Neville really likes her because he only pays attention to her when we are. Mostly he just ignores her.”
Mom chuckles with a shake of her head. “I still can’t believe he has a raccoon.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “But Trevor does a lot to manage his wild tendencies and habits, even though he was never really wild. He searches for most of his food in toys, and climbs a lot in the house. But he also plays fetch and purrs. Raccoons purr.” I nod as my parents’ eyebrows rise in surprise. “He sat on my lap the other night and purred. And I looked it up. They purr and make cooing sounds when they feel relaxed, happy, and safe. It’s kind of like a soft trilling sound. And he screeches when he’s excited and playing. And he stays up all night.” I try not to bounce in my seat, but I can’t help it as my parents smile. “Raccoons are nocturnal, so he sleeps all day and is awake most of the night. Trevor has to close his door to sleep or else he would be all over him. And when Trevor wakes up in the morning, sometimes chairs are knocked over and he’s made a mess with all his toys. And he eats dog food for breakfast. So does the bird. It’s high in protein to replace the insects she’d normally eat. I got to feed her.”
Mom and Dad are both quiet as they just smile at me, and I look between them.
“What?” I ask. “Do you want to know more?”
“How is Trevor?” Mom asks, picking up her mug and leaning back in her chair with a soft smile.
My brow furrows. “Good, I guess? I don’t know what he’s doing right now.”
She presses her lips together and glances at Dad, who sets his mug down .
“You’ve been spending a lot of time together.” His brows lift like he’s asking a question. But he’s not asking a question…
“Yeah…” I trail off, my heart thumping as I think I realize what they’re getting at.
“Are you… dating?” Mom asks carefully, tilting her head to catch my gaze.
But my eyes quickly drop to my plate again, and I shift in my seat. “Uh… yeah?” I say quietly. Although, I don’t really understand what dating means. We go on hikes, we text a lot, we kiss, and more… I’ve slept in his bed. He says he likes me, and I like him. So… what does that really mean? He’s never said the word boyfriend, and that’s usually used when dating, right? But… he’s called me something else.
“I’m his Firefox,” I say softly, almost in a whisper. But as I glance up, they clearly heard me, because Mom looks like she’s holding back a massive smile.
“Well, we’d love to meet him sometime,” Dad says, taking a bite of French toast.
I nod, shifting my gaze back out the window. The leaves outside are now almost perfectly still, except for a few that twist and flutter lazily in the faint, leftover breeze. The sky is a piercing, vivid blue, and the warmth from the sun pours in through the glass. But instead of bringing comfort, it feels like it’s highlighting every anxious thought twisting inside me.
Is that what comes next? Meeting each other’s family? And how do I even introduce him? My mind reels, spinning with questions I don’t have answers for. If he meets my family, does that mean I have to meet his? My heart starts racing just thinking about it. We’ve been in this safe, insulated bubble ever since the pub, but now it feels like I’m stepping outside of that bubble. And giving it a name is confusing. I’ve never done this before… I don’t know the rules.
I thought meeting three of his friends was overwhelming. And the thought of walking into another unfamiliar space, full of people I don’t know, who are even more important to Trevor… I don’t know if I can do it.
“He has a big family…” I say slowly, my gaze shifting between the clouds in the sky one more time before I reluctantly bring my focus back to the table.
My parents exchange a look, and my dad’s brow furrows. But then his features soften, and he leans forward. “Ah.” He nods slowly. “Well, I don’t think there’s any rush. Have you talked about meeting each other’s families?”
I shake my head, and my knee starts bouncing under the table.
Mom places her hand over it and squeezes tightly. “Honey, new relationships are always a bit scary.” She smiles warmly. “While we would love to meet him, we only want to when you’re ready. You never have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “Yeah…” I trail off, finding some familiar comfort in those words.
Mom has always told me that, for as long as I can remember.My parents have always let me figure things out in my own time, and let me navigate life at my pace. They’ve never pushed me, only encouraged me. And they’ve never judged me for who I am and the choices I’ve made. Even now, as I sit here with this new part of my life unfolding before them, they’re doing the same thing. Supporting me, and gently guiding me to where I need to be.
Trevor does that too.
A smile spreads across my lips as I think about the way he holds my hand, and how patient he is with me. How he never rushes me, and never expects more than I can give. He gently teaches me everything I need to know without making me feel overwhelmed, and even though this is all new and strange, he makes it feel ok. We’re taking it one step at a time, without any pressure or expectations. It’s not about being perfect and getting it all right… it’s about being us.
I’m his Firefox.
And he’s my Guide.