"If you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born

Then it's time to go

And define your destination

There's so many different places to call home"

- You Are a Tourist by Death Cab for Cutie

It's 92 degrees outside and I feel like a lizard. I sit cross-legged on a lounger in the shade with my guitar in my lap face up, and I absently thumb the strings in a tuneless melody while I watch my mother's face. She's poised upright on a plastic garden chair with her arms resting on the sides and her head tilted back to face the Californian sun. It's rare for my Mom to be sitting so calmly in one place for more than a few minutes, and I take this opportunity to just watch her. She looks beautiful and peaceful, with her blue eyes closed and a smile on her face for the sky. She looks happy.

My legs squelch and stick to the plastic cover of the lounger cushion as I change their position from beneath the guitar. Something about the idea of spreading out under the sun and singing about the summer had appealed to me, but now that I am here I feel strangely self-conscious. I can hear the neighbours chatting from over the other side of the fence, and I know my Mom is expecting some music because she peeks out at me through one of her eyelids every time the mindless pattern I'm playing starts to sound like the beginning of a song. She knows me well enough not to say anything though.

She's heard me singing a million times – I mean for god's sake, it was her who taught me how to play the guitar all of those years ago, my clumsy fingers bending awkwardly for the chords while she sat behind me placing them in the correct position, her wild chestnut curls brushing my cheek.

There is no reasonable explanation for my lingering shyness, and I realise that this is the one defining difference between my Mom and me, the one thing that stops me from being as uninhibited as she is right now; despite all of her highs and lows, she is comfortable with herself. I look at her, so content on that chair, no barriers up at all, and I don't think I have ever been that relaxed in my entire life. Even when I'm alone in my room, I am aware of how I'm sitting, and how weird my face must look when I'm concentrating on learning a new strumming pattern, and how childish my voice sounds when I sing.

"I think my boobs are burning." Mom presses her fingertips against the skin of her ample chest above her bikini top, and watches as the marks turn from tan to white, and back to tan again.

"I told you to put on some sunscreen," I say gently, smiling at her from the shade of the umbrella. I feel like I should be talking quietly, like how your voice sounds too loud sometimes after nobody has spoken for a while. "Do you want me to get some for you?"

If I had come out here without practically bathing myself in the SPF 50 earlier, my skin would be blistering and peeling off in sheets right now. I have always envied my Mom's bronzed skin, who says I take after my father in that respect. I think I must take after my father in a lot of respects, because I look nothing like my Mom.

She waves her hand flippantly in the air and leans her head back again, her eyes crinkling closed. "I'll be fine, darling. I'm going inside soon anyway."

I sit idly for a few more minutes, my mind wandering and my head aching dully from the relentless heat beating down on us. Phil comes outside with a pitcher of something colourful and cold for Mom, and she asks me if I would like a glass but I refuse it. Phil knows that she's always been pretty relaxed about letting me drink. The legal drinking age in England is 18 so as far as she's concerned I can have what I like now at 19. Still, he will never outright offer it to me, although he won't say a word about his thoughts on my British mother's liberal parenting style, whatever they may be. He has never tried to interfere or be anything other than a friend to me for these past four years, which I appreciate.

Mom leans up and kisses him on the lips as thanks while she takes the plastic glass he has poured for her. He follows her lips as she pulls away, keeping the kiss going for a few seconds longer as she laughs against his mouth. They are so in love. I feel wistful as I watch them, knowing this is a private moment but unable to look away.

Being back at home feels different than it used to before I dropped out of college. I feel like a cat whose owners have packed up and moved house, and now I can't find any of the places I was comfy in before because the light doesn't slant through the windows in the same direction. But nothing has changed here, so it must be me that has changed.

"Bella, have you heard from your cousin lately?" Mom cups her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun so she can look at me. I have been waiting for this question.

"She sent me a message on Facebook yesterday but I haven't answered her back yet. Why?" I ask casually, my fingers weaving a tiny braid in my brown waves to give me something to focus on. I'm not a great liar.

"Cathy has been worried about her, and you know my sister doesn't worry about things unless there's really something to worry about. She said on the phone last night that Alice has been acting distant for a long time."

Oh. I abandon the little braid, dangling half finished. That wasn't what I was expecting at all.

"I know you two keep in touch," Mom continues. "Have you noticed anything different with her?"

"Not really..." I trail off, trying to remember what she'd talked about in the last few messages she'd sent me. New job, new boys, old friends, sex, drugs, parties, shenanigans: nothing out of the ordinary there. But then again, I'm only hearing about what she chooses to tell me. If there was something going on with her that she was trying to hide, I wouldn't be able to find out what it was through those messages. "You know how Alice is, she's always been a bit of a dreamer. I'm sure it's nothing."

"That's exactly what I told your aunt," says Mom, sounding appeased. "I told her our Ali has always been a real individual. Very quirky and different - in a lovely way, of course. I'll never forget the time I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. You girls can't have been more than 4 years old, and I had you both in the bath together, oh, you had made beards for each other out of bubbles and you looked so adorable..." I have heard this story many times, but I still can't help the smile that forms as I picture us. "Now, you still wanted to be a ballerina at this point, and I must be honest Bella, you weren't nearly as graceful back then as you are now."

"I'm graceful now?" I scoff in disbelief. "You definitely didn't see me trying to sit on this sun lounger earlier without opening it all the way. I think I broke my butt."

"You're very graceful! The way you dance around the house, you're nothing like your old Mum. I'm a walking tornado." I laugh and silently agree with her tornado comparison, because that is exactly what she's like, but not in the way she means it. "Anyway, so you were going to be a ballerina, and I asked Alice, 'What do you want to be when you grow up, sweetheart?' And she said, 'I want to be a star, Auntie Renee.' And I said, 'Like a film star?' And she told me, 'No Auntie Renee, I want to be a real star! Like the twinkly stars in the sky.' A star! Can you believe that?" Mom giggles delightedly at the memory. "Oh, she used to make me laugh, that girl."

I'm surprised at how much that story makes me miss Alice, and not just physically, although it has been years since I last saw her in person. I miss my best friend, I miss our closeness. We have been keeping in sporadic touch over the years, but at some point during that time we have lost our connection, our bond that made friends and not just cousins, and I don't know when it happened. When did I stop knowing what was going on with her? If something was upsetting Alice when we were 10, I would have sensed it in an instant.

I have a message to write.

Hey Ali,

Sorry for not answering yesterday, I've been thinking on that mammoth reply you sent me.

That store sounds completely perfect for you. I always pictured you working somewhere kind of interesting like that. Are you actually going to get paid to stare at people hands and tell them their futures one day? Because that would be so awesome. Please tell me you're calling yourself Mystic Alice now or something. (I don't care if you're not, because I'm going to anyway.)

And you don't even have to tell me about your wild adventures because I'm pretty sure I've seen it all on Facebook, you bad girl! It's a good job you explained some of those photos to me because I didn't have the slightest clue what was going on there. Seriously though, I'm glad you've been having fun, and it sounds like you have some really great friends. So what else is going on with you, any news? Have you been doing okay?

And I know you're right about the college thing. It's so silly because nobody is disappointed or angry with me, and I know I did the right thing. I wasn't happy and it was the wrong place for me, and it was a waste of time and money for me to be there if it wasn't what I wanted. But I still feel guilty! There's this weird pressure to go to college here if you want to make anything of your life, it's not like England with Uni.

But yeah, Mom's been fine with it. You know how she is, she cares much more about my happiness than my education thank god. She thinks this is all part of me 'finding myself', which I guess is true. And she's been doing really good lately thanks. Everything has been well under control with the medication for a long time now. We all know what signs to look out for if things start to go downhill again anyway, and she's more aware of herself than anyone.

About your invitation: I'm actually thinking about it. I bet you didn't expect me to say that, and I kind of expected myself to just say no. But I'm really thinking about it. Living at home again has been difficult now that I know what it's like to live somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, I love being back here, and I love my Mom and I even love Phil. But I know it's time for me to move on, I just don't know where I want to move on to yet.

So maybe it would be good for me to come and stay with you guys for a while? MAYBE Ali, that's a maybe! Don't go making any plans yet or telling Cathy said yes (I thought for a minute earlier that she had told my Mom already).

Love and kisses,

Bells

It takes my cousin all of 5 minutes to ring me after hitting the 'send' button. I roll my eyes when I see who is calling, because I'm not surprised at all.

"So you're coming, then?" There is a low rumble of cars whizzing by in the background, and I hear her exhale heavily. I can almost smell the cigarette smoke through the phone.

"Is this just how you greet people now?" I ask teasingly, purposely not answering her question.

"Bells, I know you. You'll think about it too much and end up convincing yourself it's a bad idea, when you clearly want to come over. And then you'll spend the rest of the year stuck at home wishing you had just gone for it." She's right, she does know me.

"I know what you're saying, but it's a big decision. I'll be living in a completely different country." I pause, unsure if I should say this next part. "I'll be living with you. I mean, are you sure you're prepared for that? We haven't seen each other in a long time, and suddenly I'll be living in your house, and I'm really annoying sometimes, Ali. Like, super annoying. I'm loud, and I sing all the time, and I can be very passive-aggressive –"

"Bella," she interrupts, laughing my name through chattering teeth. "I want to live with you. I know I've been pushing you about this though, and I'm sorry. It's not like me. If you decide it's not the right step for you now, I'll understand and I won't be upset. But I would really love you to. I've been missing you a lot lately."

Her voice gets gradually quieter until she stops speaking altogether, and I'm reeling from the realisation I just had while I was listening to her talk. Because she's right; this isn't like her at all. Alice would never usually bother trying to convince anyone to do anything. She isn't a forceful person; it just isn't in her nature. For whatever reason, she wants me there very badly.

"I miss you too," I whisper. "Ali, are you okay? You know you can talk to me."

"I'm fine," she insists, not sounding very fine at all.

"Okay," I answer, not pushing her. I know there's something going on with her, and she knows that I know. That's enough for now. "I think I will come and stay with you then, if you'll have me."

"Of course we'll have you," she says flippantly, but I can tell she's pleased. "You had better go and tell Renee now, because I don't know how much longer my Mum can keep quiet about it. You're lucky she's so good at keeping secrets."

"I know. I will. I'll call you soon and let you know what's happening."

"Okay, talk to you soon."

I hang up the phone feeling inexplicably calmer. I still don't know what I'm going to do with my life now, or what kind of person I'm going to be, but I have time to figure that stuff out. And I can do it while I'm living in England.

I think my Mom is more excited about my leaving the country than I am.

"Oh, you're going to have such a wonderful time! You'll have some brilliant experiences, and these are the years to do it." She squeezes me hard, trapping my arms against my sides in her embrace, and I mouth 'help me' at Phil as he watches us in amusement.

"You'll have a blast, Bella," he agrees, grinning at me.

"Thanks guys. I knew you'd be cool about it," I say gratefully. I really am thankful. I couldn't ask for a more supportive Mom, or a more supportive Phil.

"Of course we would!" Mom answers. "When Cathy suggested it to me I almost answered yes for you!"

Wait, what?

"And it's not that we don't want you around darling, it's been lovely having you back at home. But I know you're –"

"Wait, what? You already knew I might go?" She looks at me patiently, and the corners of her mouth are curling like she's trying not to laugh at me.

"Did you think you and Alice are the only ones who talk? I knew days ago! Ha, as if my sister could keep something like that from me. I knew you would need some time to think things over on your own without me confusing you even more." She tucks a thick lock of long hair behind my ear for me. "I was dying to ask you about it earlier though."

"I knew it, I told Alice earlier I thought you knew! Fancy you keeping quiet about it for all that time, you must have been ready to explode," I tease. I really am amazed that she managed to keep quiet, and honestly, grateful. I know she would have been trying to encourage me to go, and that on top of Alice's persistence would have driven me crazy.

"Oh hush, you," she says, poking me on the arm.

"How long do you think you'll stay for?" Phil asks.

"I don't really know." I have been thinking about this since I got off the phone with Alice, and I'm not sure if I should set a date to come home.

"You don't have to decide anything now," Mom says breezily, waving her hand in dismissal. "The invitation was open-ended. Cathy says she's happy to have you for as long as you'd like to stay, be it weeks or years. And she doesn't expect any money from you either."

"Oh no, Mom, I can't do that." How can I live in their house and not pay my way? That would be completely unfair.

"Of course you can! God knows, she has more than enough money to keep you without it making a dent in her wallet –"

"That's not the point!"

"And you have your savings," she continues, as if I hadn't just spoken, "that will get you by as far as spending money is concerned, and if you want to get a little job, well, I don't know how it works but you were born in the UK so you're technically a British citizen, so we can find out about that." This is the most organised I have ever heard my Mom. It's kind of freaking me out a little bit.

"And we'll pay for your plane ticket," Phil interjects.

"Oh guys, no," I complain. I know they don't have a lot of money, and this is the last thing they need. "Thank you so much for the offer, but I've got plenty in my savings, it's not an issue."

"Nonsense!" Mom insists. "You're my daughter, it's the very least we can do for you. I'm going to call Cathy so we can get the ball rolling. Phil, why don't you get the suitcases out of the attic so she can start packing? It's going to take a while for you to do it, so you might as well start now."

I can't believe how quickly this is all happening. I must look like I'm panicking because Phil tells Mom to calm down a bit and give me some time to wrap my head around all of this, but I insist that she is right and that I want to leave as soon as I can.

If I'm going to do this, I might as well throw myself head first into it, right?