balcony and one big window. Palm trees frame the glass, their silhouettes dark against the bright sky. The water shimmers blue and silver in the distance against the rich green of the hotel lawn.
Right away I go out on the balcony. Our room is on the sixth floor, and far below me there’s a long stretch of close manicured grass and a twisting stream (part of a golf course?), then a paved path that leads to the beach and a gentle hill topped by two benches and a large statue of Buddha that gleams white in the afternoon sun.
My fingers itch for the brand-new set of watercolors I brought along.
“We should go rub his belly.” Afton steps up beside me. She tilts her head back and breathes deeply, taking in the fragrant sea air.
It’s all going to be okay now, I think. The trip will be what we both need. I’ll get some distance between me and Leo, spend some time in the sun, paint a bunch of landscapes, relax, eat, drink, and be merry, and yesterday’s humiliation will fade away like it never happened. Afton will forgive me for the offensive thing that I didn’t actually say, and we’ll go back to normal.
“I don’t see any cute boys I want to have sex with,” I say with an exaggerated sigh.
Afton’s perfect forehead creases in the middle. I hold my breath, waiting to see if she’ll take my comment for what it is: a tentative peace offering.
“Well, we only just got here,” she says after a minute. “There’s still time.”
Of course she doesn’t mean it. I certainly don’t mean it. But we act like we do.
Satisfied that I’m making progress with her, I go back inside. The connecting door to Mom’s room has been flung open, and Abby is jumping between Afton’s bed and mine.
“This . . . is . . . nice,” Abby gasps.
I nod. “You’re right, bug. This is nice.”
“Dinner’s in an hour,” comes our mother’s voice from the other room. “We need to get cleaned up and head right over.”
I go to the door of Mom’s room and watch her unpack. She’s spent the entire day in grimy airports and on bumpy airplanes and in a less-than-stellar taxi, but she manages to look completely put together, the top half of her bobbed blond hair pulled back in a tortoiseshell barrette, her sweater set and khaki pants still crisp and unwrinkled. She carefully hangs up a row of her expensive, tasteful blouses in the closet, two pairs of pressed black slacks, a little black cocktail dress, and a black formal gown for the awards night at the end of the week. There’s a lot of black in my mother’s wardrobe, because it matches everything so she doesn’t have to give it too much thought.
“Do we have to have dinner with the entire group?” Afton protests from behind me. “This is supposed to be a vacation.”
“We always have dinner with the entire group the first night.” Mom crosses back to her suitcase and withdraws a silk robe I’ve never seen before. It’s white with a red-and-black cherry blossom pattern on it.
“That’s pretty,” I say.
“What’s pretty?” Afton comes around me and over to inspect the robe. She strokes the fabric down one of the arms. “Ooh, shiny.”
“Thanks,” Mom says stiffly, and hangs the robe up with her dresses and shirts. She has never been good at taking a compliment, even about her clothes. “Ruthie found it at Nordstrom’s last week.”
“We could get room service,” says Afton.
I don’t even know why she’s trying to get out of dinner. It’s like she doesn’t know Mom at all.
“No,” Mom says flatly.
See.
“You could say I wasn’t feeling well,” Afton suggests.
“We always have dinner all together the first night,” Mom says again.
“Will there be ice cream?” Abby inquires.
“I bet there will be pineapple,” I say. Pineapple is Abby’s self-proclaimed favorite fruit. “And there might be—I don’t know—some cute boys for us to assess at dinner,” I direct at Afton.
“Cute boys?” Mom frowns at us. “But don’t you both have boyfriends?”
I stopped trying to keep Mom up to date on the current happenings of my life a long time ago. I don’t enlighten her this time, either. I’m not in the mood for a speech about how heartbreak is a natural part of life, or about what a strong and capable woman I am, and how I don’t need another person—a boy, especially—to be my awesome self. Mom is great at those kinds of speeches, and