So what’s the deal with your mom?” Hannah asked. She was seated at a long table in the cafeteria with Baxter, Ruth, Amos, and several others.
“What do you mean? Deal?” I set a platter of sandwiches on the table. It was the night off for a number of the serving staff, so, of course, Deb volunteered me to fill in. Nothing more confidence-boosting than the potential disaster of spilling a plate of meatball subs all over your fellow employees. I made sure to walk slowly and keep the water pitchers filled a few inches below the top.
Hannah unfolded her napkin and put it on her lap. “I saw she wrote to you. I was just curious if there was any news.”
My cheeks flamed with rage and embarrassment. I hadn’t told anyone at Sweetwater about my family situation and had no intention of doing so.
“You read my letter?” It came out loud. Deb-loud. The soft hum of conversation died down in an instant.
“Sorry,” Hannah said, her eyes flickering around to the others at table. “Not on purpose. I wouldn’t do that, Ashlyn, I wouldn’t. You need to know that.”
Everyone was looking at us now. And for a few terrifying moments, time slowed as I waited, on edge, to see if Hannah would blurt out my dad’s legal status and my mom’s stint in rehab in front of these people I barely knew.
“I don’t think this is the time or place for this conversation, Hannah,” I said, channeling my dad, using the tone and type of language he used when he was trying to coerce or intimidate someone. I took a step closer to where she sat, standing over her. Hannah, to her credit, didn’t shrink back.
“Sure. We’ll talk later.” She took a giant bite of her sub and faced straight ahead.
Without saying another word, I went back into the kitchen and gathered another plate for the next table. I spent the rest of the shift going back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen, shuttling food and drinks, fetching extra napkins and wiping up spills. Although it felt good to stay busy, I couldn’t get the looks of everyone around Hannah’s table out of my mind. Pity? Curiosity? Judgment? Whatever they were thinking, I felt like an amoeba under a microscope, and I imagined that every conversation was about me. I liked attention when it was my choice, like when I was flirting for example. But this? Not a chance. And the cherry on top? I had no idea if Hannah was telling the truth.
Marcus and Mallory and the other lifeguards came in at the tail end of my shift. I smiled when I saw him, his brown hair almost black, still wet from the pool. Had he saved someone’s life today? Had he taught someone to swim? A group of middle schoolers, a temple youth group, had arrived yesterday. I bet all those girls had enjoyed the view during pool time. I walked toward their table and casually put down the platter I was carrying.
“Hey, Marcus.”
He gave me a lazy smile. “Hey, Ash. How’s it going?”
“Not too bad. How’s the pool today?”
“It’s been really busy,” Mallory answered for him. Even though I knew she was nineteen, her high-pitched voice made her sound like she was about twelve. “That new group of kids is so obnoxious. They splashed us all afternoon, didn’t they, Marcus?”
He laughed like it wasn’t nearly as annoying to him as it had been to her. I shifted my gaze between them and back again. Two things bothered me about what she’d said. One, she said us. Like she and Marcus were a team, or, perish the thought, something more. And two, she got wet. That kind of came with the territory of being a lifeguard, didn’t it? Ugh. She seemed nice enough, but fussy. Just like her mother, actually. “Good thing your shift’s over, huh?”
“Totally,” she said, not detecting my sarcasm at all.
“So, Marcus,” I said with emphasis, “did you hear Ruth and Baxter are taking the new employees on the zipline?”
“Hadn’t heard that, but very cool. I did a zipline in Costa Rica a few summers ago. It’s wild. Flying through the jungle like you’re a bird.”
“Or a pterodactyl,” Mallory chimed in.
I didn’t even look at her. “Right. Well, you should come.”
“If I’m not working,” he said, poking Mallory gently in the shoulder. “Boss Lady.”
“Oh, stop, I’m not really your boss,” she said, pretending to be embarrassed but so obviously pleased.
“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow then.” To the table, I added, “Let me know if you all need anything.” I gave Marcus one more pointed look on the anything and walked away. Slowly. I knew he was watching.
It was late by the time I got back to the cabin. But not late enough apparently, because Hannah was lying on her bunk, reading, with all the lights on. When I came in, she sat up so quickly she hit her head on the bottom of my bed and yelped. I covered my mouth, trying not to let her see the laugh that was trying to escape. Hannah gave me a sheepish look and then her signature shrug.
“I’m glad you’re back. Look, Ashlyn, I want to apologize for what I said earlier. Sometimes I just blurt things out without thinking and then later realize I hurt or embarrassed someone. I think I did both tonight. I’m sorry. I officially suck as a cousin.”
The apology was unexpected, a pleasant surprise even, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she’d read my letter. I wasn’t prepared to let her off that easy. “But—”
“I know, but I read your letter. I’m the worst. But in my defense, I wasn’t snooping. I sat down on the bed to tie my shoe and it slipped off your bed and landed face up. I picked it up and saw it was from your mom and, well, I have no excuse. But if it hadn’t fallen, I would never have looked at it. I promise.”
She looked sorry. She sounded sorry. And to be honest, if the situation were reversed, I probably would’ve read the letter too. Rarely had I forgiven someone so quickly in the past, but somehow, this situation felt different.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I believe you.”
“Thank goodness. I thought you were going to set me on fire with the looks you were giving me in the dining hall. I told Bax I was afraid for my life after we left,” she smiled. “He told me I should just talk to you about it, that it was terrible timing for me to ask you about your mom in front of everyone.”
I sat down on her bed next to her. “He was right. I don’t really want to share what’s going on with my parents with the people here, you know? It’s no one’s business.”
Hannah nodded and lifted her hand for a high five. “You’re so right. So right.” I left her hanging for a moment before tapping my hand to hers. Then she pinched her thumb and her forefinger together and mimed zipping her lips.
We sat there next to each other, quiet for a moment, me wondering what to say next. Hannah cleared her throat. “So. Okay, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but my parents didn’t really say much and this whole thing with your parents seems like such a mystery. Like, poof, here’s the cousin you haven’t seen in forever and, oh, by the way, she’s coming to work with you this summer and we shouldn’t pry too much, but we should also be supportive. And I don’t know about you but it’s hard for me to be supportive if I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe that makes me nosy. But I also think it makes me invested.”
Invested. Like I was a stock or a bank account. I blew out a loud breath, my hair tickling my ears. I didn’t think there was any way to get through the summer without telling someone, anyone, the truth. And it might as well be the one person I was related to. “My mom is in rehab. My dad’s word was exhaustion . . .”
“Which is really just the old person’s code word for depression.”
“Exactly.”
“I hate that. Let’s not cover up mental health issues, you know? Your mom is a star for getting help. She shouldn’t be made to feel like she’s hiding something. If anything, she’s strong. A fighter.”
I liked thinking about my mom being strong. Maybe I could be too. One day. “Thanks for saying that.” I crossed my legs beneath me, ducking slightly so I didn’t bang my head on the top bunk. “So, she apparently can’t call me until her therapist clears her, but you saw from the letter that she thinks that’ll be soon.”
“That’s great news.” Hannah smiled at me.
“And, well, my dad’s in jail. Tax evasion.”
She nodded, eyes wide. “My parents told me that part. And I saw the news articles. Some guy they went to high school with, and who lives in DC, clipped them out of the actual paper and mailed them to Dad.”
“That’s just wrong,” was all I could say. Some friend that guy was.
“I know.”
“So yeah, he’s there. He got me this job before he left, through your mom I guess, and here I am.”
Hannah studied my face. “And where would you rather be?”
I snorted. “That obvious, huh?” She smiled. “I was hoping to be at home. With my best friend. Doing normal summer things.”
“I’m sorry you hate it here.”
“I don’t hate it here,” I said softly. Sweetwater had its perks, namely Marcus. And it would be a cool experience to include in a college application essay. I didn’t know anyone else who’d ever done a summer job like this.
“Good. So, are you going to write your mom back?”
“I probably should.” But what would I say? Hi, Mom, I’m sorry you’re depressed and it’s probably because Dad’s a criminal. Wish someone had told me earlier. Get well soon! XOXO, Ashlyn. Probably not. But, if she was getting help, maybe that meant that things might be different in the future. “What would you write?” I asked Hannah.
“Me? Well, my mom, the social worker and over-sharer, always says that honesty is the best policy. Cliché, I know, but she might as well have it cross-stitched over her bed. I guess I would just say that I miss her and I love her. You do, right?”
“Of course I do.” My voice sounded so small.
“Then tell her. She probably needs to hear it now more than ever.”
Hannah made it sound so easy. She had no idea we were not the type of family who shared our feelings. We had been going through life treading water in my dad’s wake until near-drowning.
Hannah ripped a piece of paper out of a lined notebook and handed it to me. “Here. Just do it.”
Reluctantly, I took the paper, crawled up onto my bunk, and used my quote journal as a makeshift writing surface.
Dear Mom,
Thanks for your letter. It was really nice to hear from you. I’m glad to know things are going well and that you’re feeling better. Sweetwater is fun. I’m doing a whole bunch of jobs and staying busy. Everyone here is very nice and Hannah is showing me the ropes. I miss home. I’ll tell you more when we talk. Here’s the number, in case you need it again.
Love,
Ashlyn
I folded it up and hung my arm over the bed. “Here. I did the thing.”
“Good for you.” She snatched it and threw it on the dresser. “We’ll mail it tomorrow.” Hannah leaned her head out over the bed and looked up at me. “And for what it’s worth, I am sorry. About all of it.”
I offered her a weak smile. “Me too.”