Rowen’s parents own a small furniture business and they often set up a booth displaying their craftsmanship. Rowen’s mom, Beth, takes old furniture and refinishes it to make it look distressed, as if it belonged back in the 1800s. My parents have bought a few pieces for our downstairs living room and I have to say, Beth is extremely talented and they make a vast amount of money. Their house is full of antique things and almost all of their furniture is distressed or worn in some way. I used to love it; it felt old but new and was comforting in that way that you’d pull out an old photograph and get lost in the contents and its history.
Just as I’m brushing my hair and squeezing the life out of the brush handle, courtesy of that trip down memory lane, my mom peeks into my room. “Are you almost ready, sweetie?” I keep my expression neutral as I stare into the mirror at my long hair cascading past my shoulders. Today, I need that extra bit of security that my heavy hair gives me. I’m not afraid of the crowd. I’m more afraid of having a random panic attack at the first look of someone with a black hoodie on. I haven’t had any flashbacks or attacks since the beginning of college, thankfully, but you never know when your mind might want to play tricks on you. Sometimes it likes to sneak up and strike you at the worst of times.
“Yep, let me get my shoes.” I patter over to my closet and notice my mom has somehow made it into my room and is now sitting on my bed. I grab my white shoes out of my closet and sit down to start slipping them on. I glance up at her, and she is watching me with a wary expression. I can feel the dread sneak up my spine at every second that ticks by.
“So, Sadie. I heard something yesterday at my book club.” And there it is.
“What did you hear?” I continue to busy myself with tying my shoes, so I don’t have to meet her stare.
“I heard that Rowen is working at the country club pool.” I sling my head down low. I was hoping I could hide this little bit from my parents because I know they’ll only make a big deal out of it, and I guess it is kind of a big deal, considering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I cringe at the hurt in her voice. My mom and I… I wouldn’t consider us best friends, but we do have a strong mother-daughter relationship. I didn’t really go through a phase where I hated her; I’ve always loved and admired her.
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you and Dad to make a big deal out of it.”
My mom hadn’t pushed me about how Rowen and I broke up a year ago. She never really asked any questions, probably afraid she’d break me all over again. She heard bits and pieces from Samantha and I’s fight, but that was all she really got. Heck, I still didn’t know why he broke up with me, if one can ever call it a breakup.
“Are you okay with working with him? I can try to find you a new job somewhere else, away from him.” Her voice holds a tension that I’ve never really heard from her before. And, to be honest, her words aren’t the first thing that have made me consider finding a new job. But, that would be me running from my problems and I don’t want to run away from my problems. “That’s unhealthy,” per my therapist’s words.
“I’m fine with working with him. We don’t really have time to talk. Lifeguarding is kind of full of solidarity.” She nods her head, suspiciously, as I stand up and adjust my jean shorts. “Really, Mom. I’m fine. It’s been a year. I’m over it.” Lie, lie, lie.
“Well, you know I’m here if you ever want to talk about him. Or anything. Okay?” She stands up and pulls me into a hug. It’s warm and comforting, and for a second, I just let myself fall into her softness.
“I know, Mom. Thanks.” I smile up at her and we make our way out of the bedroom and down the stairs, heading towards my favorite part of summer.
The festival is full of familiar faces. Mainly just the families that I remember seeing in the football stands on Friday nights and at random school activities. Little kids are running around with their ice cream cones melting on the black pavement, and there’s about a million different booths set up, all ranging in color. You have the bright yellow stand promoting its homemade lemonade, the white tented booth, displaying homemade jewelry, and so on. I’m sickened that I can’t help but glance around the booths, looking for the one that reads “Furniture,” but the sick feeling fades when I realize I don’t see Rowen’s family anywhere.
My gaze shifts to my parents walking ahead of me, side by side, hands clasped together. My mouth twitches upward and my heart grows tender at their touch. I’m lucky. My parents are the most loving parents that I’ve ever seen. They’re affectionate, and the way my dad looks at my mom is full of endearment. They’re a team, the two of them. Their relationship and bond is something I aspire to have some day… hopefully, if I can ever close the gaping hole in my chest.
My dad stops walking and turns back to look at me, playfully prodding, “Let’s go Sadie.” My eyebrows scrunch as I follow his gaze. I laugh, feeling my face relax. He’s staring at the inflatable red and blue water slide, smackdab in the middle of the town square. Every summer we’d go down it and race each other while my mom stood below, laughing and judging who won. I always won, and he’d always complain, “It’s not fair. You’re half my size.”
I place my hands on my hips. “But we forgot to wear our bathing suits this year.”
After the first couple of years, we finally started wearing our bathing suits under our clothes just in anticipation of the water slide. But I forgot all about it. I forgot, which causes guilt to build within my chest.
“Correction. You forgot yours.” I look down and my dad is pulling of his khaki shorts, broadcasting the navy swimming trunks underneath. I can’t help my grin and chuckle.
“Come on Sadie! We didn’t get to go last year.” He pouts a little as he pleads. I look back at the water slide and then back at him. His eyes have a little light lying within and he’s beaming just as brightly as the sun on top of our heads.
“Alright, let’s go!” I smile, allowing the giddiness to overtake my body.
When we reach the top, I take off my converse and socks and throw them down to my mom, who is standing in her spot. The same spot she always stands in. I peer over at my dad, and he’s smiling like a little kid in a candy store.
I ask, “Are you ready?” He nods at me as we take our positions.
I look down toward my mom’s brown hair and give her a slight nod. “Okay, guys,” she yells.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
The mere second that the word ‘three’ leaves her mouth, I’m flying down the slide, gasping as the ice-cold water hits my bare legs. When I land on the soft, wet mat, I realize I’m hysterically laughing. It feels so good to be laughing with my dad on this water slide. It’s like the last year didn’t even happen. It’s like everything is back to normal. We just needed to get over that awkward hump.
My dad stands up and shakes his hair, spraying water all over me, and grimaces. “How did you end up winning, again? I thought for sure I had you because you’re wearing jean shorts. Why didn’t they slow you down? This is so unfair!” I cackle.
“You can’t beat a champion, Dad.” We walk off, my dad’s wet arm draped over my shoulder. I feel light, and it’s such a distant feeling. Happiness and normality diffuse across my damp body and I never want to let this feeling go.