"I do," I tell her, "but, I don't know, a vacation sounds great."
We're in the back of the second RV, sitting at a little table that we've covered with lace doilies, and Lulu's tarot cards are spread out in front of her. She says she's giving me a reading, but we're distracted by how cute this town is.
My older brother, Nate, and his wife are driving this rig. My parents are in the other one with our three little siblings, triplets, if you can believe it, 14-year-old boys and moody as ever. Lulu and I prefer sitting back here by ourselves.
"I still can't believe Dad agreed to a week-long vacation," I say as she shuffles her cards.
"Kind of a vacation," she says. "We're at a campsite. I want to go to some luxurious resort one day."
I laugh. "Yeah right," I say. "How are you going to afford that?"
"I don't know," she says. "Maybe we'll get a record label. We'll get a contract and fly all over the world, be jet setters."
"Right," I say, "because family bands that travel in RVs often get picked up by record execs."
She rolls her eyes. "You don't have to be so bitter."
"I'm not bitter," I say. "I'm just..."
Lulu sighs, handing me the deck of cards. "Hold these. They need your energy before I do this reading."
I don't necessarily believe in the power of tarot, but I acquiesce to her request. "I'm not bitter," I say, passing my energy—somehow—to these cards in my hand. "I'm a little tired of going nonstop. It's always another town, another city, another show, writing a new song, practicing the music. I'm 22. Sometimes..."
"Stop," Lulu says. "Do not break my heart with the rest of that sentence."
"Okay," I say, giving her the cards back. "I'm not going to break anything, just trying to be honest. Isn't that what Mom and Dad are always preaching about?"
"Yes," she says. "They're also preaching about commitments and how to follow through once you've started something. Last year, when we made the decision to stay on the road, you were all in. We have the tour dates set. And you are an essential member of the band!"
"I know," I say. "I was. I still am. I'm as committed to this family, to this band, as anybody else."
Lulu pulls a card for me, placing it down on the table. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply. When she exhales, her eyes open, sparkling green. "Look," she says, "it's the wheel of fortune."
"What does that mean?"
"It means something like one door opening, another door closing, but I have the strangest sensation, the weirdest thought."
"And what's that?"
"I don't know. You see this tree on the card?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I think it's like a peach tree, or I feel like it's some sort of stone fruit. Does that make any sense? I just keep seeing that when I think of you, in this moment."
I laugh. "Okay. You're getting a little too witchy for me. Now you're intuiting what this card means from my energy?”
Lulu rolls her eyes. “You might be a pessimist about how real tarot is, but I think I’ve got a skill here."
"I don't doubt that, Lulu. You definitely have talent."
The RV pulls into a campground in the Rough Forest, and my sister-in-law, Jessica, calls back to us. "Hey, girls, we're here."
We stand up from the table and walk toward the front of the RV where Jessica and my older brother Nate are sitting.
"How does it look?" I ask.
"It's beautiful," Jessica says. "I know you wanted to stay at some fancy resort, Lulu, but this is paradise."
She's right. Once the RVs are parked, we get out and stretch our legs, taking in the beautiful lake, the enormous pine trees, the sprawling campsite with hookups and bathrooms.
"Wow," I say. "Okay, Dad, you did good. I don't know how you heard of Home, Washington, but this place does seem pretty spectacular."
My mom and dad and the triplets, Jonathan, Jasper, and Jonas, walk over, grinning. "I told you," Dad says. "I have a knack for these things."
Mom wraps her arms around my dad's biceps and leans up to give him a kiss. "You did good, Dave. I love it here. I feel like this is going to be the perfect place for us to recharge our batteries, work on our new material."
I frown. "Work on new material? Mom, I thought we were having a break, a vacation."
"We are," she says. "We're not going to do any performances for a little over a week. We planned and budgeted for this."
"I know, but I thought we were going to read books and swim in the lake and walk into town and get milkshakes. Working on material?"
"You can do all that," Mom insists. "I promise. In fact, anything you want, you can do, Meadow. You're a grown-up. You're 22 years old. I'm not keeping tabs on you, not anymore."