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“What do you want to change?” Mom stops blending and pours the pink liquid into glasses.
“It doesn’t matter, Mom. But if you want my input, I’d style in a natural palette.” Holding onto things means it’s more than just protecting the environment from unnecessary trash piles. It’s preserving a memory, and I don’t want to take that from her. We didn’t have much money growing up, and my parents raised me not to be wasteful. I was happy and never asked for more than they could give. I started working in the mall while still at school and worked hard on my grades to get a scholarship to college. But now I can help them, though it’s hard not to offend Mom.
Mom hands me the glass. “We can talk about this next time you’re here.”
“We can.” I take a sip. “This tastes good, thank you.”
She smiles lovingly at me. “I know how much you love it. Did I tell you there is a trunk of things in the garage for you to go through?” Mom limps to the table. It’s worse this morning than yesterday. She did fuss after me on Christmas Day. “We haven’t thrown anything away in case you wanted it.”
I sit for a moment. “I can next time.” I down the smoothie in one go. “I wish you would go and see someone about your leg pain.”
“I’m fine.” She straightens her back as though she is feeling strong. “Nothing a swim in the ocean won’t fix.”
Why is she so stubborn?“Thank you again for a wonderful Christmas.” I check the time. I don’t want to make my parents late for church after they missed it at Christmas time last year during the COVID-19 outbreak.
My dad stands and holds his arms out wide. I stride over to him, and he gives me a bear hug. “Don’t be a stranger, Poppy.”
“I won’t.” I squeeze Mom tightly, and then Dad comes to join us in a group hug. “I love you both very much.”
They follow me to the front door. “Please keep it locked,” I remind them.
I sprint to my car to avoid the chill in the wind.
The weather will supposedly warm by lunchtime, a pleasant temperature for winter, and nothing like the weather I experienced in Oregon.
Every time I remember my night with Franklin, warmth surrounds me.
We had one hell of a night together, and I’ll never forget it.
Before starting the engine, I call Zara. “Hey, I’m on my way.”
“Great. We’ll get coffee first. Do we have time to stop at the OB Pier? The tide might be low, and we can just—”
“Of course.” As teenagers, we used to hang out at the pier or Cabrillo to view the tide pools. Coming home is like being in a Twilight Zone, and I am thrown back into it every time I return. I love seeing my parents, but everything is the same. Yet sometimes, Zara and I need a familiar place to reflect. The tidepools are a place that grounds us before we hit the busy city again.
* * *
Two months later…
On Friday afternoon,I’m tidying my desk and thinking about sleeping for the entire weekend. It’s been a hectic week, and I’ve been working ten-hour days and then heading home to finalize documentation on some projects. Hugh and I have been coworking on commercial projects, and I have been handling some of the residential clients with smaller remodeling plans. The more experienced staff works with high-end residential clients.
Hugh comes to stand at my desk.
“Oh, no. What is it?”Please don’t ask me to stay back.
“Sienna’s flight was canceled.”
“Oh shit. I saw the blizzard warnings. I thought of her and hoped it didn’t affect New York.”
“Yeah. At least she has somewhere to stay.”
I nod. Sienna is from New York and often visits her parents when she is there for work.
“So, since she is out of town, maybe Zara and the two of us could go dancing. The DJ at Dricks is fabulous.”
“Why do you love dancing more than me? Seriously, you’re the only guy our age I know who wants to spend every weekend at a different club.”
He edges his rear onto my desk. “Because I can dance. You are possibly the most uncoordinated female on the planet.”
