“What’s wrong, sweetheart?
Were you having a nightmare?” asked my mother. No matter how old
I get, Mom still talks to me like she would a newborn baby.
“No. What time is it?”
“It’s almost five o’clock in the morning. You
really gave your father quite a scare. We almost had an
accident.”
“How far are we from the Kennedy Space Center?”
“Not far. Want to come sit up in the front
with us? We can watch the sun come up.”
(I know what you’re thinking. The dialogue in
my real life isn’t much to brag about, either.)
Mom and I moved up to the front of the camper to
share the passenger seat. Dad tousled my hair as I sat down.
“Bad dreams, kid?”
“Actually, it was a good one. I dreamt I
hijacked the space shuttle. This stupid Barry Manilow song woke
me up.”
“Bummer,” said Dad.
“Tell me about it. The space shuttle was
almost in outer space when I heard this radio playing. Do you
mind if I change the station?”
“But they’re playing such nice music,” Mom said.
“Oh, come on, Connie. Our daughter’s a
teenager now. If she doesn’t overdose on rock and roll at this
age she’ll end up liking rap music or something worse.”
“Well, okay. As long as it isn’t heavy
metal. Curt’s still sleeping.” She gestured to the sleeping
compartment above the front seat where my brother snored away.
“Okay,” I said, and reached behind the seat to grab
my tape case. “How about Pat Benatar? She’s not too hard.”
“Sounds okay to me.”
I slipped a cassette into the tape player and turned
the volume up a little. Dad approved of the music that suddenly
began to pulsate from the dashboard speakers.
“I wonder. If you left a tape recorder playing
Barry Manilow in the middle of the woods, would it still suck if there
was nobody there to hear it?”
Dad cracks me up. It amazes me that they let
somebody as crazy as him design a communications satellite worth
millions of dollars. You’d almost expect him to throw in a few
technical surprises just for a joke. I’ll bet the thing doesn’t
work unless you put a quarter in it. He’s that kind of guy.
I think my parents are cool. They’re not
morons like some kids’ parents. We get along great. Sure,
they’re a little over-protective at times and aren’t always around when
I need them, but they’re basically cool to hang around with.
They’re really self-conscious about being out of touch with what my
brother and I are into these days. That’s why you see them
wearing sunglasses and talking in the latest slang whenever our friends
come around. We don’t have the heart to tell them it embarrasses
the hell out of us.
We go on trips like this a lot. Last year it
was the Grand Canyon, and the year before that it was Vancouver,
B.C. We took the camper each time. My mother and father
really get a kick out living the American Dream. They do the most
unoriginal things you can imagine, like buy useless souvenirs and take
stupid photographs of us kids standing in front of every landmark
around. It’s almost as if they’re afraid someone will accuse them
of being communists if they don’t.
I have to forgive them, though. They spoil me
rotten. I’ve got tons of stuff back home that I don’t even know
what to do with. It seems like every time they come home, they
bring me a tennis racket or something. I never ask for much,
other than some new tapes or a Starlog
magazine now and then, but they keep bringing half the mall home.
I don’t even know where to put the stuff, so most of the time I take it
back to the store and get a refund, then blow the money on something
else. Mom and Dad never know.
Dad looked at Mom and I sitting in the passenger
seat and smiled. “You know something? You two look enough
alike to be sisters.”
“Gee, Dad. You really think I look that old?”
Mom drilled a bent finger into my ribs. “Watch
it, kid.”
“I’ve got it all,” Dad sighed. “A gorgeous
wife, a cute daughter, a handsome son, a great job, a nice house, a
sound credit rating...”
“A full head of hair,” I added.
“A full head of hair,” Dad laughed. “My life
is complete!”
“Yeah, Dad. You’ve got it all.”
We passed a sign that had exit information for the
Kennedy Space Center. “We’re almost there. Good timing,
too. The sun’s just coming up.”
Mom smiled at me. “You’ve never been to the
Atlantic Ocean before. You’re in for a treat. When the sun
comes up in the morning, it reflects off the water and fills the sky
with all kinds of magnificent colors. One by one, the stars fade
from sight and the darkness of the nighttime sky retreats to the west.”
“Wow, Mom. You’re quite the romantic.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Before you were born, your father and I used to go
to college in Florida. We spent a lot of time at Cape
Canaveral. We used to get up real early to watch the Apollo
missions take off.”
“Hmm.”
“We used to dream about having a family that we
could bring out here someday. Looks like it’s come true.”
“Sure looks that way. Want me to wake up the
Pill That Didn’t Work?”
“What?”
“My brother.”
“No, let him sleep. He drove all night.”
“Okay.”
We drove on in silence, just listening to the Pat
Benatar tape and admiring the sunrise. It was every bit as
beautiful as she said it would be. The Kennedy Space Center
appeared on the horizon, bathed in the lavender glow of the coastal
dawn. The first glint of sunlight reflected off the metal support
towers like shimmering, dancing flames, giving the entire scene a sense
of mystery. I had the feeling that something very special was
about to happen. It probably wouldn’t be as spectacular as my
dream, but it would be magical just the same. I looked at my
parents and wondered if they felt the same way.
“You’re never going to forget this, Crystal,” my
father said. He took a sip of his coffee. “A rocket launch
is one of the most awesome experiences there is.”
I thought about my dream. “Yeah, I know.”
Boy, did I know.
