I can’t help but wonder if she’d think I’ve failed to live up to my potential. I wasn’t one ofLittle LLC’s biggest stars, but I worked steadily after it ended, and landing the role of Felicia Fox changed everything. After that, job offers were flying in. But just when my career was taking off, I got pregnant with Isla. I was posed to become “The Next Big Thing,” and suddenly I was relegated to “New Mommy” and “Rocky Ramirez’s Wife” and Reddit threads about leading ladies who disappeared from the spotlight.
I don’t regret staying home with my kids while they were little. But Levi is starting kindergarten this year. At this point, what’s really holding me back?
Maybe I’m just scared. I left Hollywood on a career high. Is there anywhere to go but down? Then again, maybe fear is just an excuse. Maybe the only thing standing in my way is me.
Something about being back at the lake feels like a sign, though. Like the stars have finally realigned to give me the jump-start I need. I can’t help but feel like my grandma is watching over me, like she knew the only way I could create a fresh start was by going back to the beginning.
A yawn escapes me, and I register how late it’s getting. Reluctantly, I gather my shoes and head back inside.
It isn’t until I climb back into bed that I realize the path’s loose stone has been neatly resealed.
I wake up slowly to slits of sunlight filtering through the bedroom blinds. The first thing I’m aware of is the sharp point of an elbow in my side. This isn’t new: I usually wake up to find my kids curled up beside me. And between the two of them, they have thirteen elbows.
The second thing I’m aware of is that I’m not in my own bed.Thisis new. I blink the room into focus and that’s when I remember that I’m not in LA. I’m at Grandma Judy’s lake house.
My lake house, I remind myself.
But a transition of ownership doesn’t change the fact that this is still my grandma’s bedroom. It looks the same as it always has, all done up in pale yellows, cream, and blue. The wrought-iron bed is topped with a blue damask quilt that smells faintly of mothballs, and there’s a coordinating fabric-lined valance above the window. A row of framed needlepoints hang on the floral wallpaper, which is sun-faded and curling in the corners. My grandma might be gone, but it still feels wrong to wake up here, like I’m trespassing somehow. An interloper. I should still be down the hall, waking up in the wood-paneled bedroom where I tucked in my own kids last night.
One of the warm bodies beside me shifts, reminding me that my kids are no longer in that wood-paneled room. Luckily, I’m used to waking up beside them. They started creeping into my bed soon after Rocky moved out. I thought it was strange at first, since it wasn’t like he was usually there anyway. Most of the time he was on location, which took him away for weeks or even months. But they registered the permanence of his absence, so when they crept in late at night, I figured it would last for a few weeks, tops. They needed to adjust to the change. Besides, I didn’t want to kick them out. I wanted to be a safe space, a steady presence who would never disappear. But I never thought the habit would last this long, and now I’m not sure how to break it.
I press my lips to the top of Isla’s head, inhaling the comforting scent of her strawberry shampoo. She rolls over, sleepy-eyed, and blinks me into focus.
“Mommy, I’m tired,” she groans.
“Me too,” I say. “The first night in a new place is always the trickiest.” There’s an understatement. Because I got to bed so late, my eyelids feel swollen and achy, and I am in desperate need ofcoffee. Still, I plaster on a mask of positivity, because both kids are looking at me right now, waiting for me to set the tone for the day, and I need to make sure I start us off on the right foot.
“Guess what?” I ask, imbuing my voice with as much cheer as I can muster. “It’s the first day of summer vacation and we’re getting to spend it at one of my favorite places. You’re going to love the Poconos just as much as I did when I was a kid.”
Isla looks skeptical, but I catch that trace of apprehensive excitement behind her eyes again. It’s the same look she had when she first saw the lake. Disappointed as she is about the change in our summer plans, I know part of her wants to believe me.
“Who’s hungry?” I ask. Isla immediately perks up, and Levi starts bouncing happily on the mattress. I grin in response. “Me too. I’m going to make us the same breakfast my grandma always made me on the first day of summer: French toast!”
The two of them leap from the bed and into the hallway, where I hear them tumbling down the stairs. I stretch, then follow sleepily behind them. What I wouldn’t give to have that level of youthful energy first thing in the morning.
The moment my foot lands on the bottom step, though, realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I’d meant to pick up some groceries on the way back from dinner last night, but somehow it completely slipped my mind. Maybe it’s because I was too busy thinking about the to-do list that awaited me here: making up the beds, unpacking the essentials, getting the kids showered. Or maybe it’s because back in LA, our wonderful part-time nanny usually does the grocery shopping. A luxury I’ve never taken for granted but have clearly come to depend on. In any case, it’s now morning and we have nothing to eat.
“I’ll get the bread!” Isla calls, skipping toward the pantry.
“Isla, wait.” A half-formed thought occurs to me: The house has been sitting vacant for a while now. Surely there’s nothing to be found in the pantry. Unless…
Isla’s scream shatters my thought before it reaches completion. A massive eclipse of moths bursts through the open cabinet doors, forming a brown, fluttering cloud around our heads.
“Jesus, what is this?The Possession?” I yell way louder than intended as I swat them away.
Levi joins in our screaming. His eyes have gone wide with fear, and he claws at my leg, desperate for me to pick him up. When I do, he wraps his arms tightly around my neck, but it does little to calm him down. His little body is vibrating with distress.
“Bad butterflies! Bad!” he screams against my throat.
I slam the cabinet doors shut and open the door to the backyard, attempting to shoo the moths outside with my free hand. Once I’ve gotten most of them out, I collapse against the kitchen counter. The day is just getting started and I’m already exhausted.
Isla pins me with a judgmental look. “I thought you said this was the best place to spend the summer.”
“It is!” I reassure her, wincing at the shrill edge to my voice. I detangle Levi’s fingers from my hair. “We just need to get the house in order. Give me a day or two. In the meantime, why don’t we go out for breakfast?”
To call Lake Tranquility a small town is a bit of an understatement. There are only a handful of places to eat, so we quickly settle on a café the next block over, which Google informs me has a decent breakfast menu. The restaurant itself looks like a house, and the homey vibes extend to the inside. I watch Isla as she surveys the interior, which is artfully cluttered with kitschy décor. Damask wallpaper covers the walls and a collection of brightly colored teacups dangle from the molding. My brain is flooded with shadowy memories as I take it all in. I’m certain I’ve been here before.
“Just you three?” a woman behind the bar asks. She’s wearingoveralls over a purple tank top, and her lavender hair is separated into two long pigtails.
