baby. If you were to want to cash those in, they’re all yours.”
“Really?” I vaguely remembered her showing me a big envelope of bonds years ago, but I’d forgotten about them. The sensation of adventure tickled the edges of the darkness that encompassed me, but quickly fizzled.
Mom squeezed my hand. “Really. Think about it.” She and Dad took each other’s hands and turned to walk while I kept pace behind them. This was how the three of us had always rolled. I watched them together and my eyes burned, then my throat. After a minute I was wiping away tears. The ocean was loud enough to let me have a good cry, sniffing, wiping. Ugh, I was so done with crying.
When it was time to walk back, Mom said, “I could go for a watermelon mimosa at Bay Local after church.”
“Whatever you’d like, dear,” Dad agreed.
There was a time in my childhood when Dad complained mercilessly about money spent but after Mom survived cancer he seemed to stop worrying. He said, “It’s time to live a little before these knees go bad, am I right?”
Back at the house, we only had time to change before leaving for church. I hadn’t even known what day of the week today was when I decided to come home, or I might not have come. My parents won’t miss church for anything. They did skip Sunday School today, though, so that was a big deal. I found a dress and pair of pumps in my closet, then sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror.
It’d been seven months since I left home. Seven months since I’d gone to church. The last thing I wanted to do was see my three high school girlfriends, especially in my current frame of mind, but here I was.
I followed my parents to their normal seats in the middle to the left. Thankfully we were just on time. If we’d arrived earlier I would have been paraded around to say hello to everyone. It was nice to see all of the familiar faces, though. I caught sight of two of my friends, Dalia’s red curls and Bree’s highlighted bob, sitting with their husbands toward the front. As I peered around, many people lit up and waved, making me smile. And then the music started.
Oh, yes. The music. It was my favorite part of church. We went to the contemporary service and our band was amazing. We stood, and I saw my old best friend on stage with a microphone. Becca wasn’t the best singer, but what she lacked in natural talent she made up for in stage presence. Bright blond hair, perfectly styled with beach waves that looked natural but really took her an hour, and personal style that most girls would…whoa. Wait. Her free hand that usually went in the air was resting on her belly. A round bump.
I grabbed Mom’s forearm.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered as the song started.
“Becca’s pregnant?” I hissed.
“Yes, honey.” Her eyebrows came together. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. She’s five months now. A little boy. She didn’t want to post on social media—too much unwanted advice.”
I gritted my teeth and stared up at Becca as a flashback hit me hard. The song was loud, blasting through the speakers. Mom was still staring at me, worried, so I flashed her a smile and she nodded. Inside, I was gutted.
Our junior year all four of us had gotten boyfriends. That was my first year with Don. We’d made a pact not to have sex with them. Fast forward six months to when Don informed me that all three of the other couples had sex.
I confronted the girls, certain the boys had lied, but they hadn’t.
“We didn’t want to tell you,” Becca explained, “because you’re so good.”
“But we love them,” Bree had said.
“Yeah, it just felt right,” Dalia told me.
“You could have told me.” I couldn’t explain to them the betrayal I felt. The gross feeling of being left out of something so huge. Would I have been judgy or preachy? I like to think I wouldn’t have, but they were right about me being a good girl back then. I’d been a major rule follower. Now look at me.
I went ahead and let Don have sex with me after that. Ironically, all the other couples broke up during our senior year, but Don and I remained a couple and went off to college together.
I let the music fill me up and tried really hard