Page 90 of What Happens in Amsterdam

“I’ve gotten to know her quite a bit over the past several months.” Wouter straightens to his full height, towering over both my parents. “She’s one of the most headstrong, spirited people I know—who I’m lucky enough to know—and she’s more than capable of making her own life decisions, no matter how big. In fact, maybe sheneededto do this, to prove to herself that she always had this kind of independence in her. She didn’t do it on a whim, and neither did we.”

“I appreciate your sincerity. You obviously still care about her, but this isn’t your battle.”

Wouter’s jaw tenses, as though there’s more he wants to say but he knows he probably shouldn’t. “Let’s talk outside,” he says to Anneke instead. “Give Dani’s family some space.”

On his way out into the backyard, he grazes my arm with a few fingertips.I’m right here, that simple touch seems to say.You’re not alone.

I hear Wouter and his family in the backyard, telling the guests the party’s over. His friends don’t look angry, at least—just deeply perplexed as they file out through the gate.

Then it’s just me and my parents in a house that isn’t ours. Part of me is waiting for someone to tell us we’re no longer welcome here, but when my parents head for the kitchen table, I follow along. Once we’re seated, my mother fans herself with my father’s Dodgers cap while he pours everyone a cup of iced tea, and the three of us silently take a sip.

When I speak again, I attempt a level, rational voice. “It’s not as if we don’t know each other,” I say, and then with a grimace: “We…dated. When he lived with us.”

“You and Wouter?” My father is softer now, he and my mother exchanging an amused smile. “Kiddo, we already knew about that. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought you were.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m not sure if there’s anything more embarrassing than realizing your parents knew you were hooking up with your foreign exchange student.

“We were so sad that he never reached out once he went home. I always wondered if we’d done something wrong, or if life had just taken him in a different direction.” My mother takes another sip of tea. “But you’ve been in contact all these years? I didn’t know that.”

“Not exactly.” Another deep breath. “Not at all, actually. Weran into each other here right after everything fell apart for me, and he couldn’t inherit his apartment without a spouse. When he suggested that we get married to solve both of our problems…it just made sense.”

“You’re not together,” my mother says, as though needing to confirm it once and for all.

I shake my head. “No. We’re not. We’re…” I grasp for the right word. We might be sleeping together, but I’m not sure I have a parent-appropriate label for that. “He’s just a friend. A friend who did me a tremendous favor.”

“What I don’t understand,” my father says, “is why you didn’t just come home, if everything was going so wrong? What was so bad about that?”

“I wanted to get away. It just felt like—like LA was holding me back, maybe. And now that I’m here…I love it more than I ever thought I would.”

My mother looks hurt by this. “I had no idea.”

“Hold on,” my father says, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “Does this mean you’re not coming back to the US?”

“I—I don’t know yet,” I backtrack. “I haven’t thought about it beyond the next six months or so.”

My father sets his empty glass of tea down on the table with a little more force than he needs to. “This is just a vacation, Dani. You have to come back to reality sooner or later. Think of everything you’re missing at home—think of how much we missyou. Your sister’s about to have a baby, and the family won’t feel whole without you there.”

Maybe it’s the kind of manipulation only a family member can be good at, because it works. I imagine Phoebe and Maya’s baby growing up without an aunt, never recognizing me when I come home to visit. I imagine birthdays and Hanukkah and Passover with an empty chair at the table.

A vacation—is that what this has been? I haven’t been working. I’ve been indulging, making my way through tourist attractions and savoring my free time.

Maybe this isn’t real life at all.

“I miss everyone too. Obviously I do,” I say quietly. “But I have a final interview for a job next week. One that I’m genuinely excited about.”

“So what’s the plan?” my mother asks. “You’ll get a job and get divorced? The choices you make here have consequences. What you did isillegal, and inAmsterdamof all places…”

“What the hell is wrong with Amsterdam?” Now I’m on the defensive again, fist tightening on my glass. “It’s a beautiful fucking city! Every house in the city center is UNESCO protected!”

“It’s not about how beautiful the city is.” My mother holds up a hand in an attempt to get me to lower my voice. “Dani, what if—what if you have another episode?”

There’s something in her gaze I don’t recognize, and it takes me a moment to pin it down.Fear—that’s what it is.

She’s always seemed so strong to me, the person who would do anything to protect her kids, and it’s rarely manifested in emotional ways like this. When she visited me in the hospital a few years back, she was all business, sharing updates about work and pop culture, since I’d gladly handed over my phone at the beginning of my stay, certain it was doing more harm than good.

“You’d be so far away from us,” she continues, and I’m shocked when her voice breaks. “How could we be sure you’re okay?”

“You’d just have to trust that I could handle myself,” I say, a pressure building behind my eyes. “You knew I got a job here. You knew there was a chance I’d stay long-term.”

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