Layers(93)

She nods with warm, gleaming eyes. “Thought you would. I brought your wetsuit back from the basement. It’s hanging in your closet.”

That’s my mom, always considerate of my needs. My heart swells at the thought.

“Thanks, Mom.” I beam as I stare out the window at the familiar view of the suburban landscape.

“Are you hungry, dear?”

“Not starving,” I answer. And that’s an understatement for you. I’m not so into food lately, Mom. You know how it is when your heart is broken into a gazillion pieces.

“Made spaghetti and meatballs.”

How suitable. I quickly look away to keep her from seeing the storm whirling within me as I think about the last time I ate the same dish. Don’t go there. Stop thinking. Stop thinking before the tears show up. Not here, not now.

I quickly start chattering about nothing and everything just to make sure I don’t focus on the one thing I shouldn’t. I volunteer information about my work, about Tasha, even about Ian. My mom can’t hide both her surprise and excitement over my incessant gushing.

I’m glad when we finally arrive. I’ve run out of insignificant topics to discuss.

~~~

Convincing my mother that I would eat after a short visit to the lakes is an exhausting battle, though with some miracle she eventually caves in.

Ever since we were toddlers she has been obsessed with our nutrition. Given both Steven and I are relatively skinny she takes it as her own life failure to have malnourished her children and future descendants and every chance she gets she tries to make amends.

“Hales, can you come over before heading out?” my father calls from his office and home clinic, giving me a chance to escape my mom before she shoves something edible down my throat.

“What is it, Dad?”

He sits behind his desk looking all authoritative, his broad body filling out the width of his brown leather chair. Under his half-moon glasses, he studies me for some beats before replying.

“What’s really going on, baby girl?” His eyes are tender brown with concern.

“What do you mean?” I try to look as casual as my conscience allows. How can he see right through me?

“My dear,” he sighs. “You can radiate as many smiles as you want to try to cover up whatever’s been eating at you, but you have to know your eyes aren’t cooperating. Hales, it’s been a while since I saw so much pain in these beautiful eyes of yours. Boy troubles?”




Leave it to the family doctor who’s been taking care of people for more than two decades to see right through my heart.

“What if I told you that it’s nothing that time can’t heal, Dad? I would much rather not dig into it.”

No matter how much time passes, I don’t think I’ll be able to remove him from my heart. I’m not even sure I’ll ever be able to look at anyone else in the same way again. How can anyone even measure up to him?

My dad inhales heavily. “Then I would say that I’ll respect your privacy and your wishes, and I would add that whenever you feel like talking I’ll be waiting here with open arms.” He looks deep in my eyes. “And as a certified physician I would say that talk and comfort ease a wounded heart.”

I stare down at my red sneakers so I can stifle back the tears before looking back at him. Even though he means well I feel more vulnerable than I did before.

“Lely, I think your phone is dying.” My mom’s voice reaches us from the kitchen, giving me a good excuse to flee my dad’s concerned gaze.

“I am pretty sure I haven’t brought my charger with me,” I murmur, annoyed.

“Perhaps ours could do the job?” she tries.

I shake my head, well aware of the fact that my parents haven’t upgraded their mobile devices since the Clinton administration.

Looking at the two screaming red lines, I figure it could last at least until tomorrow—I don’t plan to use it anyway.

~~~

Wearing my wetsuit, sunglasses and popping an Advil, I walk back to the kitchen to fetch the car keys. My mom’s at the counter cutting vegetables on a wooden chopping board with oldies playing in the background. Her kitchen is as spotless as the rest of the house. Daisies enrich the air with their fresh scent from their place in a clear vase on the dining table. My mom hums to the music, occasionally adding an almost unseen sway. Sanity is the word that comes to my mind as I observe this scene, this place.

Between the hideous pain that doesn’t leave my chest, work, Tasha, Ian’s constant hyperactivity, and no Daniel, this is the best place I could be right now. My sane place. Turning back as though sensing me my mom says, “Dad already secured your board to the car, Lely.”

My safe, comforting place. I smile to myself. Though being snug in Daniel’s arms beats even this.

“Are you sure this is the best weather to surf?” my mom asks, looking skeptically out the window.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. If it gets stormier I’ll come back.”

She nods, utterly unconvinced, but lets me be.





Chapter 40: When It Rains It Pours


Nothing could be more symbolic of my current state than the great lakes spread in front of me with their raging gray waters. I need to battle the water, paddling frantically, to get to a point where I can catch waves; I am rocked by the manic water as I tread water waiting for the ultimate wave. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to surf in this weather after all. Do I have a death wish? Well, in my current state … When I catch the wave it throws me forward; I almost lose my balance but regain it quickly and tune with the ride till I get to the shallow waters where it ends. I tire quickly from fighting the conditions and the water and am unable to stay out as long as I had planned. Heading back to shore, trying to make my way against strong currents, I’m viciously toppled off the board by a violent wave. My board is flung aside, tugging my leash, and ricochets forcefully back to my side. An instant, deep bruise radiates from where it hits my ribs. I catch my breath at the pain. I need to get out of the water. Any additional moment I stay could be highly dangerous, especially with this deep, throbbing ache that clouds my mind.