LILY
Istepped out of the Mediterranean stone house onto the back terrace and had to squint against the bright light of the morning sun slanting sideways from the billowing white clouds. This early, the sky wasn’t blue yet, but I knew the pale, hazy gold would deepen to cerulean in the next hour. I considered watching the transition from the hammock strung up on the far end of the terrace, but instead I circled the freshwater pool with its light mist of steam rising from the heated water and picked my way down the stone steps to the beach.
“It’s not a great beach,” my best friend Halley had warned me. “I mean, it’s not like Zlatni Rat or Nugal or Sunj. There are no waterfalls, hardly any sand. The water is great, but just, you know, adjust your expectations.”
I’d shaken my head in disbelief then, and I did so again now. I couldn’t imagine owning this slice of Croatian paradise with its golden pebbled beach and a panoramic view of the Adriatic Sea and feeling the need to apologize for it. But Halley had truly been concerned that their group would be disappointed. I couldn’t speak for our other three friends, but I was the furthest thing from disappointed. I didn’t need to take a day trip to the nudist beach or cliff diving at Punta Verudela—I’d happily spend the entirety of our two-week vacation right here.
Two weeks.
Before the trip, the length had stretched out like a winding golden road that I couldn’t see the end of. Two weeks to relax and swim and laugh with my friends before I had to deal with the real world. Now that I was a few days in though, suddenly I could see the end too clearly. As always, my mind leapt ahead, gobbling up the time in manageable increments the way it had always done. In the past, my mind had been gobbling up semesters’ worth of work, endless shifts at the diner. It had helped to break the time down. But now I wanted to stretch the time out.
The knot in my stomach that had loosened the day I turned in her last final and thought by this time tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane to Croatia! began to tighten again. It never entirely unraveled, not as long as I could remember. I took a deep breath of warm sea-salted air and pressed a hand to my stomach. It would be fine. Everything would be fine. Just because I hadn’t gotten the financial aid I’d hoped for and had to defer law school for a year didn’t mean anything. It was only a year, after all. My mind went to work on it, breaking it down, reducing it to a series of seasons that would blur by as quickly as senior year had.
But it wouldn’t be like senior year at all. I wouldn’t have the grants and scholarships that had propelled me through my undergraduate degree. I needed to get a real job and make enough money that I could survive and stockpile for law school. That was going to be hard, and I still had no real idea how to do it. Logically, I should move back in with my mom, but Yellow Springs, Ohio, wasn’t exactly rife with economic opportunity. I’d already reached out to law firms in Xenia, Springfield, and Fairborn, but they either weren’t looking to hire, or they only had unpaid internships to offer.
The knot tightened further.
I made an abrupt left and walked into the water up to my knees, not even mindful of where I was placing my bare feet. Halley had warned us all about sea urchins, half apologetic again. “Bring water shoes. They’re not poisonous, but they’ll hurt like a bitch if you step on one.”
My racing mind slowed, pleased by the warm water lapping around my ankles and calves, gently nudging at the edge of the sleeveless cotton dress I’d thrown on when I woke up. I smiled down at the shimmering cyan. I could see my outline glittering in the surface. I bent over further so that the ends of my golden hair could trail in the water and took another deep, calming breath. Everything would be fine.
“Are you praying to the sun or something?”
The voice surprised me straight. The wet ends of my hair slapped back against my chest, dampening the cotton dress and chilling my skin beneath. I turned to see Halley standing on the beach—wearing water shoes of course—hands on her hips and a big smile on her face.
“Maybe,” I joked, wading back toward the shore. I almost said something like I can use all the help I can get, but I bit her tongue just in time. It was no secret that I relied on grants and federal aid to supplement my scholarships, or that I’d deferred law school for financial reasons, but I didn’t like to bring it up more than necessary. Especially not to Halley who hadn’t even known what a FAFSA was until I explained it to her.
“Should I fill one out too?” Halley had asked, and I had laughed out loud.
“No, your dad owns like half of Hollywood. You won’t qualify.”
Half of Hollywood, an apartment in Paris that Halley and I had stayed in last summer, a ski chalet that they called a cabin in Aspen, and this beautiful place.
Halley was still grinning when I reached her, a glint of mischief in her dark eyes. I couldn’t help smiling back, even though I didn’t trust that look. It had gotten us into more trouble than I wanted to remember right now.
“What’s up?” I asked, my mind already racing ahead to guess what it might be. She was going to try to talk me into swimming with sharks or cliff diving, or she’d gotten it in her head that we should go to that nudist beach after all.
“Oh nothing,” she said in a way that assured me it was definitely something.
I raised my eyebrows at her and waited, a half-smile on my lips even as I began constructing my arguments.
I don’t like heights or swimming with creatures that can eat me. I’ll take the pictures.
I’ll go to the nudist beach, but I’m not going fully nude. No, not even if you buy me unlimited tequila shots.
“Okay, it is something,” she said, glee squeezing around her attempt to sound nonchalant. She bounced up on her toes as we began walking back toward the house.
“Something you’re going to tell me?” I prodded. Halley didn’t usually draw out the suspense like this. She preferred the kamikaze-style attack where she threw everything she had at you so fast your head began spinning and you forgot that no was an option. I braced myself for the onslaught of reasons why I had to go base jumping or whitewater rafting or whatever dangerous activity she’d set her heart on.
To my surprise, Halley drew in a deep breath and darted me a quick, sideways glance. The glint had dimmed, replaced by a flicker of wariness. She rolled her lower lip beneath her teeth, the way she only did when she was nervous.
I slowed, genuine concern flaring up. I was used to that expression during finals–Halley was a last-minute studier–but never on vacation. “What is it?”
Halley kept walking another few paces, the bounce going out of her step. She knotted her hands in the hem of her gauzy dress, pulling it against her thigh. My concern was edging into worry, but when she turned around, she had a bright smile pasted across her face.
“I’ve just solved all your problems.”
Her voice was bright, but her words landed like darts on the thin skin of my pride. I tried not to flinch. “What problems?” I asked lightly.