The Charm Bracelet(25)

A cool, morning breeze rushed into the upstairs room, and Arden was transported back to the days of her childhood. This room had been her refuge. Books had been her life raft. And they still lined her room—stacked haphazardly on shelves and on the floor—a sort of literary insulation from her bigger-than-life mother and the too small town where she felt trapped.

Arden scanned the room, and her neck suddenly popped from the stress of opening the stubborn window. She yelped, and reached for the ceiling, hoping a quick yoga stretch would relieve her suddenly screaming vertebrae.

Sun salutation.

The sun was rising over the lake, and Arden smiled at the beauty. She reached high yet again, her body mimicking the tall pines just out her window, whose sky-high tops were towering toward the light and gently swaying in the wind. The sun glinted through the pines and off Arden’s glasses.

And that’s when she heard—at an excruciatingly loud decibel—the screech of bubblegum pop music.

Katy Perry? “California Gurls”? she wondered.

Arden leaned out the window, studying the lake, and turned her head left and right to study the lawns and beaches of the surrounding cabins for the source of the music.

Okay, who’s making all the noise? It’s a tad early in the morning and the week for college kids to kick off Memorial Day with loud music, she thought.

That’s when the floors beneath Arden began to shake violently, and for a second she believed she might actually be in California in the midst of an earthquake. The world outside her window, however, was serene. An off-key voice began to sing again.

Mother! she realized.

Arden tossed on a Northwestern University “Parents” sweatshirt, the static electricity causing her dark hair to stand on end, and carefully navigated the suffocatingly narrow stairwell that led from her tiny bedroom to the downstairs. She tiptoed down the stairs and stopped at the end of the landing.

Lolly and Lauren were dancing in the living room and singing into ladles. “California Gurls” blasted from Lauren’s iPad.

Grandmother and granddaughter shimmied across the floor, before turning to kick in unison like Rockettes, their charm bracelets dancing along with them. Lolly was adorned in a platinum blond wig, while Lauren was sporting one of her grandmother’s red beehives. Both—both!—were wearing bikinis. Lauren was teaching her grandmother “the sprinkler” and how to twerk, while Lolly was showing Lauren how to lindy and twist. They were having a blast.

A twinge of jealousy rose in Arden’s throat. She loved that Lolly and Lauren were so close, but she wished she and her mother could connect so easily, like best friends. Her back stiffened, and the pain jolted her body, causing the wood step on which she had been perched to creak loudly.

“Morning, sunshine!” Lolly laughed, turning to her daughter while still shaking her rear as if it had been tossed into a blender. She pointed at Lauren’s iPad. “Pandora. I learned something new today!”

Arden shook her head. “Not only is it too early to be playing loud music and dancing, but, Mom, you need to rest. You shouldn’t be overdoing it.”

Arden’s criticism sliced through the music, and Lauren muted her iPad. Lolly reached for the robe she’d tossed over the side of an old rocker.

“Don’t you dare,” Lauren said, seeing her grandmother’s joy turn sour.

Arden’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “That’ll be enough, young lady.”

Bristling at Arden’s words, Lauren yanked off her wig and tossed it across the room at her mother. “Mom, if you want to sleep in, fine, but you don’t need to police us. Grandma and I got up to do a little yoga. I thought the stretching would be good for her. And then we decided to dance and have a little fun.”

Arden suddenly felt bad for putting a damper on things, but the doctor had been clear about Lolly taking it easy, and she didn’t want her mother to get hurt. She never wanted anyone—including herself—to get hurt anymore.

Arden knew Lolly wouldn’t say no to Lauren; someone had to step in to keep everyone safe.

“It’s six forty-five a.m. I’m exhausted.”

Then, looking at her mother, Arden added, “Lauren, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Lauren exploded. “Well, I do. I’m sick of sweeping every emotion under the rug. I’m sick of having my life dictated to me. I’ve hated my life for the last few years. I’m a business major … a business major. What am I doing with my life?”

Silence engulfed the cabin. Just beyond the screened porch, loons cried their mournful song, matching the mood inside.

Arden was now wide-awake. Although her daughter’s outburst seemed out of the blue, Arden realized—if she were honest with herself—that Lauren was deeply unhappy.

“I found the bills, Mom,” Lauren finally continued, her cheeks quivering. “All the letters from Dad. The divorce settlement. That’s why I switched to business. I … I just didn’t want to add any more stress to your life.”

Lolly looked at her daughter and granddaughter, pulling her robe tightly against her body.

Arden’s face froze. She tugged at her earlobe nervously.

“Oh, honey. I never imagined,” Arden gasped. “I’m so sorry. I have been totally oblivious to how you were feeling. None of that is your problem.”