My mother waits in the camper when Whit drops me off. It’s mid-afternoon and I expect her to be busy at her computer, but it’s closed and pushed aside. Instead, a half-full glass of wine sits on the table.
“Hi,” I say, leaving my wet towel outside along with the cheesy grin I know will reveal my beach-side make-out session with Justin. “Productive morning?”
“I got a couple thousand words down,” she replies. I duck into the bathroom and start the shower. I’m peeling off my bathing suit when she says, “But then Sugar came to visit.”
I stop undressing and step back into the main room. “How did that go?”
She holds up her glass of wine. “Not bad—but not good either.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means wounds from the past are hard to heal.” She takes gulp of wine.
“I’m glad you two talked,” I tell her, stepping back in the bathroom. “It’s been a long time and you need to patch things up.”
“You sound like Richard,” she says. I step into the shower and wash the sand and salt off my body. My mind wanders to Whit and our time on the beach. Things got hot and heavy between us—fast. I snap out of my daydreams when she asks from outside the bathroom door, “So what’s going on with you and these boys?”
I pause. “Ummm…we’re hanging out? Why?”
“They’re all very handsome.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Obvious understatement of the summer, I think. I squirt a glob of shampoo into my hand and start scrubbing out the sand. There’s a lot of it embedded in the back of my hair, from, well, basically dry-humping Whit on the beach. I wonder briefly if she noticed, and scrub harder. She doesn’t say anything else, so I finish my shower, making sure to get the sand out of all the places it managed to travel today.
I’ve got my towel wrapped around my body when I come out. She’s still there, just watching me. I notice the glass of wine on the table is full again. “Okay, what’s going on?” I ask, curtaining my ‘room’ off so I can change.
“I’m just curious,” she says, from the other side. “Justin in particular seems like a nice boy—young man. Richard really did a fine job with him.”
After putting on shorts and a tank top, I pull back the curtain. “Justin’s really appreciative of everything Richard has done to help him. He struggled a lot as a kid, from what I understand.”
“Cute and damaged. Those are the dangerous ones. Watch out,” she says with the touch of a slur. She waves her wine glass in the air and continues to ramble. “He’s probably like Richard, always there when you need him—except when he’s not.”
I’m not sure where this is going but I decide to push the limits, since she keeps bringing it up. “He also dated Sugar, right? That’s what Anita told me.”
She snorts and I look around for the bottle of wine. How much has she had? “I wouldn’t call it dating as much as a rebound.”
Ahh, the rebound. I knew a little bit about that. “So…”
“So, contrary to modern legend,Iwas the one that dated Richard in high school, he only spent time with Sugar once I left.”
“Okay.” That’s a surprise, but not a big one. Obviously, there’s some bitterness between them all. Guy trouble could easily be the issue. “So is this why you and Sugar don’t speak anymore?”
She shrugs and takes a sip of wine. “Some of it. She was jealous of our relationship and when…well, when what happened, happened, no one around here could deal with it. I was the only one with enough maturity to walk away. They found solace in one another. It’s why I never came back.”
“What happened?”
“What happened is, once upon a time, I loved Richard. He was my fairytale, but I found out pretty fast that when shit hits the fan, he’s not the guy you can trust.”
I laugh. “And dad was?”
“Nope, he wasn’t either and that’s my point. Don’t go down this road with Justin or one of these other boys if you can’t handle what’s at the end. You’re here for the season and seasonal romances are romantic, wonderful things. But what happens here stays here. You can’t take this home with you.” Her eyelids droop and she leans back against the cushion.
“I’m not planning on marrying one of these guys,” I tell her. “That’s why I’m not getting exclusive with anyone. We’re just having some fun.”
“It all starts out as fun, sweetie, don’t forget that.”
“Why don’t you take a nap, Mom?” I suggest. “Here, use my bed.”
She doesn’t fight me so I help her off the couch and into the bed. I try to pull back the blanket but she’s already flat on her stomach, nuzzling her face in my pillow.
