12. Your Tour Group is not Your Family
“Remind me again why I thought calling you was a smart idea?” Hanna rolled her eyes as Will stuffed a falafel pita wrap into his mouth on the screen of her laptop.
“Because I am literally the only person you know who understands the situation you are in,” he replied around a mouthful of food.
Charming. “Spotting the difference between someone willing to engage in some vacation fun versus one who will cling on and get you in trouble is my specialty. If you came to me years ago, you never would have gotten into that situation with Antonio. Too self-absorbed for a good fling.”
Grimacing at the memory of her ill-advised dalliance, Hanna brought the conversation back to the topic at hand.
“Noah is not Antonio. He is thoughtful and considerate, though he comes across as a bit of a grump at first.” Hanna grew warm just thinking about him.
“He steps in to help without getting in the way and he cares about what I think.” Her thoughts wandered as she remembered their kiss from the night before, the way he listened to her and admitted when he was wrong.
Will cleared his throat and gave her a knowing look.
“Do I need to go so you can be alone with your thoughts?”
Memories of how Hanna was alone with her thoughts the night before brought color to her cheeks.
Thank goodness for camera filters that hid her telling blush.
There were some things even close friends did not need to know about.
“Nevermind, I’ll call someone else to get their advice.” She leaned forward and pretended to reach for the end call button.
With a lurch that was unsurprisingly graceful (Will was the reason Hanna knew yoga), he slid his feet off the cluttered desk and onto the floor, the pita wrap tucked onto a plate, and his face composed into an expression of rapt attention.
“Wait, wait, wait. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease. You never ask me, or anyone for that matter, for help, so I admit I’m more than a little surprised. Casual flings are my specialty, but the way you talk about Noah, it sounds like you want something more than physical.”
“That’s the problem,” Hanna said and sighed.
“I cannot have more than that. This trip is done in just over a week. Then he will return to the states and I will be…well, hopefully on another tour, but either way we will not see each other again.”
Somewhere along the way, amongst the weekly phone calls with questions about her personal life and the trip, Hanna grew closer to Noah.
Based on his admission the night before, so had he, and that scared her.
Moving constantly as a child taught Hanna that she did not get to keep people.
No matter how many promises were made to write to friends, time and distance slowly ate away at those precarious ties.
Emotions were fickle things, and Hanna knew better than to let herself get attached to someone she would have to let go of.
Other people stayed where they were, growing and burying roots to form communities.
For Hanna, it was easier to remain a seed carried by the winds of change than have her roots ripped out again and again.
Sunlight crept over the horizon, pouring through the open window in Hanna’s room.
Perched on the cushioned desk chair, she watched the dawn break while she collected her thoughts, Will silent on the other end of the call.
She called him with the intention of finding out how he managed to have no-strings-attached relationships, several of which were with guests, without it biting him in the ass.
Casual was the best word to describe all of Will’s relationships, yet this conversation spiraled into her revealing deeper feelings than Hanna was ready to admit.
“I don’t know if I can let him get close, just to say goodbye at the end,” she whispered, nose burning and tears stinging her eyes.
Her fingers smoothed out a wrinkle in her sleeve, over and over.
Will’s eyes melted with concern.
As surface level as he kept physical relationships, Will was a fierce and loyal friend.
Hanna knew that if he ever turned that dedication and commitment onto a partner, well, that woman would be lucky.
“Hey,” he said in a soothing tone, “you don’t have to do anything you aren’t comfortable with. I just want you to be happy. Be honest with yourself about what you want, and then share that with Noah. Talk to him about this, not me. Only the two of you can figure out the right answer.”
“But he’s a client.” She clung to the one line discouraging her from running to Noah.
“Does your service contract say you cannot be in a relationship with a client?” Hanna shook her head.
Luxe Travel’s employment contract stipulated that employees had to disclose any relationships to guests with human resources, but considering Hanna was the only employee and acting as HR, it was a moot point.
“Then he isn’t your client. No, wait.” Will held out a hand to stop her protest. “I know you are going to say that even if he isn’t, it would still look bad if someone found out, but you already said his grandmother was shipping you two. If it really bothers you, talk to her too. Clear the air so there is nothing left unsettled and make sure your recreational activities do not impact your work.”
His nonchalant and cavalier attitude meant people underestimated Will, but Hanna knew he was remarkably astute.
Going to him for advice was the right choice.
The only way forward was clarifying her own feelings and articulating them, accepting the risk to her reputation.
If she was wrong about Noah’s feelings…
no, there was nothing gained from that line of thinking without talking to Noah first.
Not wanting to monopolize what little time they had to catch up, Hanna asked how Will was doing.
He was back in Long Beach after a few weeks leading whitewater rafting trips in Colorado, preparing to leave for the summer to work at a ranch.
The self-proclaimed “god of fun-der”–Will’s resemblance to a certain superhero appealed to many guests–was a hot commodity for the ranch, returning year after year to assist with horseback riding and ziplining in the hills.
Tales of a previous year’s bachelorette party “roughing it” in the hills of Montana at the cowboy-themed retreat had Hanna wiping away tears of laughter.
“Oh, hey,” Will added before they ended the call, “you got another letter from Trips Ahoy. Want me to leave it with your stuff in the garage?” It was strange that the letter was delivered to Sarah’s house since Hanna had all her mail forwarded to a PO box while she was gone.
“Yeah, thanks. It’s probably just another attempt to get me to work for them now that I’m competition.”
“Those bastards,” Will joked.
“How dare they try to win back the best tour guide in the world.”
“Stephanie only trained the best.” Her golden standards were the reason Trips Ahoy rose to prominence and was viable to sell for an early retirement.
As they said their goodbyes, Hanna felt lighter after talking with her friend and developing a plan of action.
Never one to remain idle for long, Hanna felt better knowing what her next step was, as daunting as talking about her feelings was.
Standing with a stretch, Hanna looked at her watch and decided to head down to breakfast early.
The group had nothing planned for the morning and early afternoon, the late night before necessitating sleeping in as long as possible, and the only item on their itinerary was dinner at a jazz club.
Maybe Noah would join her for breakfast again and they could talk.
Smiling to herself as she walked out to the breakfast room, Hanna paused in an alcove when her phone chimed with an incoming text from her mom.
Have you had a chance to look over the job application I sent you?
Hanna’s good mood evaporated and her stomach dropped.
How many times did she need to tell her family that she was happy with her job?
That she was fulfilled, driven, and accomplished even if there was no prefix or list of accolades attached to her email signature.
When she first got the job with Stephanie at Trips Ahoy, they said having a job was good, but wouldn’t working somewhere that looked good on university applications be better?
The decision not to attend university was brushed aside with emailed internships and promises of referrals to whatever non-profit or NGO she wanted to meet with after her “gap year.” Hanna typed her response quickly.
I already have a job, but thank you for thinking of me.
Three dots blinked on the screen, disappeared, then reappeared again.
Knowing her mom was revising her response filled Hanna with dread.
Nothing good would come from whatever the three dots turned into.
When the incoming message notification never chimed and the three dots did not reemerge, Hanna let out a cautious breath.
Perhaps her mom would leave it alone this time.
The shrill sound of an incoming call proved otherwise.
“ Hola, Mamá. ” Hanna loved the rhythmic flow of Spanish, the nuance and accents as familiar as her mother’s voice.
“ Mija. ” Camila reminded Hanna of summer, warm and full of energy, a winning combination for a doctor and mother of four.
“ How are you? It’s been too long since your father and I heard your voice .”
Not entirely my fault , Hanna thought to herself.
Telephones worked both ways and Hanna made a point to inform her whole family what time zone she was in.
The mention of her father meant that he was on the call too.
“Hey, Duckie.” Her father loved using her childhood nickname, born from her habit of following her older siblings around like a baby duck.
Hanna smiled at the irony that now she had people following her on a daily basis and returned her father’s greeting in English.
Her parents were the reason Hanna was fluent in multiple languages.
They both spoke Spanish and English fluently, raising their children on the importance of knowing each language from their heritage.
Hanna learned French while they lived in Canada, one of the first places the non-profit placed her parents while Hanna was young.
From there, Hanna picked up phrases from each language of the countries they lived in, learning from the locals as well as the other doctors and staff working with her parents.
Dr. Camila and Rev. David Poole were humanitarians for a non-profit working to bring medical care to areas around the globe that lacked access.
They met in graduate school on an aid trip and fell in love.
After finishing school, they were hired by the non-profit as a doctor and nurse chaplain, respectively.
When it came to their children, Camila and David raised them on the values of giving back to others and dedicating their lives to helping those in need.
By Hanna’s count, a seventy-five percent success rate was still a win.
Adriana, the oldest, founded and managed a non-profit with her wife, focused on educating girls and women in developing nations.
They had one daughter and were currently in the process of adopting their second child.
The twins, Sam and Nathaniel, were doctors and–not helping Hanna’s perpetual feelings of inferiority–worked for the same NGO their parent’s did.
At least Nathaniel was still unmarried, distributing the push towards matrimony between two siblings instead of leaving Hanna alone.
Sam had to go and marry a doctor the year prior.
Hanna liked his wife, insofar as well as she knew her, but honestly, the amount of MDs, PhDs, and other titles in this family were getting a bit extreme.
“ You sound tired. Are you getting enough rest ?” Camila asked after her husband updated Hanna on their current mission trip.
“Well, getting a business started is difficult,” Hanna said, defensive.
“On top of managing the tours themselves, I have to run the accounting, marketing, social media, and coordination of future tours. Sleep is a little low on the priority list right now, but I promise that I am eating healthy, drinking plenty of water, and exercising daily.”
In the awkward silence that descended, Hanna heard the background noise of people walking somewhere behind her parents.
Most likely other volunteers moving around whatever facility they were in.
Work was constant and Hanna wondered if her parents were taking their own advice and resting.
“We just care about you and want what’s best for you–” her father started.
“–and we worry about this business of yours.” Her mother picked up the end of David’s sentence in the way only people who spent years together could.
“You are doing so much with no help at all. You need something with stability, to provide for your future. This job may be fun for now, getting to travel and meet new people all the time, but what if it doesn’t work out? You need something permanent.”
This coming from the people who uprooted Hanna every few years to move to a new place.
Those disappearing text bubbles were coming back to haunt her, the unfinished thread of conversation not something her mother would drop easily.
Hanna tightened her arms around her waist, feeling the weight of disappointment threaten to crush her.
Her back pressed into the painted wall behind her, the sturdy surface keeping her upright.
“I need a real job, is what you mean.” It stung, the entire family’s disregard for her choices.
Hanna’s career was cute, fun, a diversion from the correct path in life.
Never taken seriously or valued.
They loved her, she knew they did, but they did not respect her.
Despite years of knowing how they felt, like they were waiting for her to find her way back to the right career, Hanna thought that opening her own business would prove to them that this was a legitimate choice.
Static mixed with her father’s voice as it came through the phone, like he was standing behind Camila where she held the phone.
“That is not what we said.”
No, but it was always what they meant.
“You were such an inquisitive child, always on the move, learning new things. Bouncing from one project to the next. You’ve done well for yourself over the years, but there is no harm in keeping your options open. Just in case.”
In case she failed.
They did not believe Luxe Travel would succeed.
They did not believe in her .
Heart cracking, Hanna fought against the constriction of her throat, tipping her head against the wall to prevent hot tears from slipping down her cheeks.
Her legs crumbled beneath her, swept out from under her with the realization that nothing she did was good enough for her parents.
She could not keep going like this, dashing her fragile hope against the unyielding rocks of their expectations.
“Well, then.” Her voice was thick with bitterness.
“I guess I’ll just keep on being a disappointment. This is the career that I chose, and it makes me happy. Until you can support that, I am not sure what type of relationship I want with you, but I know that I do not want one where you diminish what I do.”
“Hanna–”
“ Ana–”
Her parent’s spoke at the same time, but however they planned on finishing their sentence, Hanna did not want to know.
Fighting to keep her voice steady, Hanna ended the call saying, “I have to go get ready for my tour. Be safe.”
It felt like someone punched her in the chest, hollowing out the space where her heart sat, continuing to beat even though it was battered and bruised.
Establishing boundaries was supposed to protect you from getting hurt, but Hanna was terrified the invisible line in the sand would separate her from her parents forever.
Part of her wanted to call them back immediately and apologize, but the larger part of her, thanks to her therapist, knew that she had to stop hurting herself by allowing them to say things that hurt her.
They called her duckie because of the way she chased after her siblings, always striving to catch up with the much older children, mimicking their actions in the hope of being noticed.
Of being enough. Here she was, years later, still trying to keep up with them.
Going from place to place hoping to prove that she was just as good as them.
Wanting to find someplace where she felt seen, valued, and loved exactly as she was.
How she felt when she was with Noah.
A cautious voice asked, “Hanna, darling, are you alright?”
Choking back a sob, Hanna wanted to laugh at how unfair it was that Hazel chose this particular morning to come downstairs for breakfast and use this exact hallway to get there.
Hyper-aware of how she probably looked, Hanna kept her face downturned and tried to discreetly wipe under her eyes to remove any smeared mascara.
“If I say yes, is there any chance we can pretend this never happened?”
Hazel’s tan loafers came into Hanna’s line of sight.
Then, the soft pressure of a hand pressed into the top of her head.
“No.” The firmness of Hazel’s voice belied the gentle way she pat Hanna’s head.
“Now pick yourself off the floor and come with me. I suspect this conversation will go over smoother with a cup of tea and a croissant.”
Grateful for the brief reprieve walking to the dining room gave her, and the decorative mirrors along the hall that revealed she did not have complete racoon-eyes, Hanna followed along after Hazel.
Their server sat them at a table in the corner, at Hazel’s insistence, away from other guests and with wing-back chairs that offered more privacy.
After placing their order, Hazel folded her hands on top of the table.
“Now, tell me, did my grandson make you cry? Because he might be taller than me, but I can still give him a thrashing if needed.”
The unexpected image of Hazel flicking Noah’s ear or lecturing him while he stood over a foot taller than the silver-haired woman had laughter bubbling in Hanna’s chest. She could picture Noah’s chagrined face perfectly, ears tipped pink and shoulders slightly slumped.
“I’m sure you could, but there is no need. Noah had nothing to do with any of that.” Hanna gestured vaguely in the direction of the hallway.
“Good.” Hazel poured cream and sugar into their teacups.
“Squabbles are normal for a couple, but they should never leave you crying in the hallway like a wilted flower.”
Tea went down the wrong way and Hanna coughed.
“C-couple? No-o…we…”
Hazel offered her a glass of water and settled her pale, wrinkled hand over Hanna’s on the table.
“I might be old, but I am not blind. Everyone can see the way you two look at each other.” The mischievous twinkle in her eye suggested that Hazel was purposefully misconstruing the reason Hanna tried to inhale her tea.
Gulping down water served two purposes.
One, it helped subdue her coughing fit.
Two, it kept her mouth busy while Hanna thought of an appropriate answer.