by Gina LaManna
“A virgin?”
“Yes,” Elsie said. “Phoebe is the one who slipped the condoms in my bag. I think she was trying to help me out, but I’m not really…I’m not interested. I was planning on lying to Phoebe when we got back. If I tell her I did some stuff with one of the neighbor boys who doesn’t go to our school, she won’t be able to check out my story, and I don’t have to worry about being the odd man—er, woman—out.”
“Your mother was very concerned you were having relationships without her knowledge,” Emily said. “She’d probably be relieved to hear the truth from you.”
“I can handle this myself. Don’t say anything to her, okay?” Elsie asked anxiously. “Please.”
Emily waved a hand. “None of this is my story to tell. Though I do hope you know that you shouldn’t feel pressured into having sex before you’re ready.”
“Of course I know that! I’m not an idiot. And I want to wait until…well, I’m in love.” Elsie stared up at the sky as if it pained her to admit such a thing. “Phoebe was only trying to help. She wasn’t doing it to be mean.”
“If you say so,” Emily said. “Though Phoebe sounds a little misguided herself. Not the sort of friend I’d want to be spending my time with.”
“It’s high school,” Elsie said miserably. “Everyone is misguided.”
Emily couldn’t have agreed more, but she was running out of things to say. Their conversation was getting too real, too personal. “Well, I should really be finding the other ladies. I think another of our old friends—Kate, the one waving—is gathering people for massages, and I’ll have a bullet in my brain if I don’t cooperate.”
“Another friend from Mom’s college days? I’ll go with you,” Elsie said, surprisingly chipper. “I’m bored.”
“Should you tell your father?”
“Bye, Dad!” Elsie yelled. “I’m going with Emily to find Mom and meet her other friends.”
Emily found a convenient trash can and dumped her cup as she headed for the gathering of women near the pool. She’d caught Lulu looking at her the previous evening, and Emily knew—she just knew—that Lulu suspected there was more to Emily. Two shots of vodka first thing in the morning would surely tip her hand. If Emily had mastered one skill in recent years, it was faking sobriety. Unfortunately, that didn’t do much for her résumé.
“Are you sure you don’t want to explain to your mom about what really happened?” Emily mused aloud. “It seems like that could clear things up quickly.”
Elsie considered, her face thoughtfully transforming into an adult-like expression. “If my mom doesn’t want to trust me, then why should I do the same for her?”
Emily didn’t have much time to respond, because at that moment, Ginger joined Kate, Lulu, and Sydney on the sandy path and caught sight of Elsie and Emily. Ginger’s face darkened as her eyes shifted to Emily, but as she glanced at her daughter, she became cautious, like one might be when defusing a bomb.
“Elsie,” Ginger said as her daughter approached. “Did you have fun with Emily?”
“Oh, this is your daughter?” Kate asked. “She’s beautiful. My name’s Kate.”
“I’m Elsie,” the teenager said, firmly ignoring her mother. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Kate said. “We’re all going for a massage. Would you like to come? My treat.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Ginger said. “She’s a minor. I think the spa is eighteen and older.”
Emily saw Elsie’s fists clench. She could understand both sides, the protective mother instincts and the daughter desperate for freedom. Was there a right answer? A compromise? Or were mothers and daughters destined to never quite see eye to eye during those awkward teenage years?
“Shame,” Kate said. “I think you’d really love a nice massage. Well, ladies, we’re going to be late. Elsie, maybe I can buy you a drink later?”
“A mocktail,” Ginger said. “She’s fifteen.”
“Of course,” Kate said. “I meant a coffee.”
“She’s not allowed coffee,” Ginger said. “She’s still growing, and it’s bad for—”
“It’s okay,” Elsie said, interrupting. “Thanks, though. I’m stuck here with my sister and brother.”
Sydney cleared her throat. “Speaking of, I’m going to swing by the child care drop-off with Lydia.”
Emily struggled to keep her eyes off the baby, but it was difficult. It seemed daughters and mothers surrounded her, flinging their existence in Emily’s face. She didn’t fit in. Didn’t belong here.
“That’s fun,” Elsie said. “They have this awesome playground for the kids. It looks pretty great. I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“Elsie is a wonderful babysitter too,” Ginger said, whispering as if Elsie wasn’t allowed to hear the compliment. “If you’re interested, I’m sure she’d be up to watch Lydia.”
Elsie nodded, brightening. “If you’d like, I can watch your daughter. I babysit once a month for my neighbors.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Sydney said. “Child care is free for an hour. Might as well use it.”
“I really wouldn’t mind. I love babies,” Elsie said. “And I’m bored.”
“Keep her busy!” Ginger encouraged. “Busy is good.”
“I might as well take advantage of resort services,” Sydney insisted again. “But, ah, if you wanted to help out, I’m sure you could stay with her there.”
“Sure, I could do that,” Elsie said, and Emily could see the gears turning in her head. It’d be better than sitting around with her parents. “I’d like that.”
“Don’t leave the playground,” Ginger instructed as if she were dropping Elsie herself off at the facility. “And let the nursery know if you go anywhere. And tell your father.”
“Mom, I know,” Elsie snarled. “Go get your massage, okay? It’s not like I could even leave the resort if I tried—we don’t have a car.”
Sydney approached the woman in charge of child care behind the formal, lavishly outfitted check-in table. A sprawling outdoor playground built to entertain all ages was littered with employees dressed in Hawaiian-style shirts and ugly hats. Behind her was the indoor portion of the facility with big, arching windows through which play blocks, a kitchen, and bookshelves promised a stimulating environment.
Emily hung back as the woman in charge stepped forward and introduced herself. She had on a big, ugly hat and the signature flowery shirt standard for all resort employees. Her name badge declared her to be Barbara, and she wore bright-red lipstick and a painfully large smile.
“Hi there, and who do we have here?” Barbara asked, looking to Lydia as if the baby could talk. “We have one cutie, don’t we?”
“This is Lydia,” Sydney said, gently peeling the baby away from her shirt. “And I’m Sydney.”
“Room number?” Barbara asked, again with the smile.
“913,” Kate said, stepping forward as Emily struggled to follow. “I’m her sister. The name on the room is Kate Cross.”
“Ah, okay.” Barbara gave a quizzical glance between Kate and Sydney. “Great. Well, it’s complimentary for the first hour, and then eighteen dollars an hour afterward.”
“Great,” Kate said. “Where do I sign?”
“I’ll need you to sign here for the rooms, and the mother”—Barbara looked up at Sydney—“to sign the consent forms.”
Emily understood Barbara’s confusion at the sisterly relationship between Kate and Sydney. What she didn’t understand was why Kate was lying about being related to Sydney. They looked the least alike of any of the women in their party.
Kate was all glossy black and oversized sunglasses while Sydney was a scrawny blond who looked like she should be studying for finals. They didn’t even look like they came from the same generation.
“This here is Elsie,” Ging
er said, fluttering toward Barbara. “She’s my daughter, and she’s fifteen. She’d like to hang here and help with Lydia if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Barbara said, still confused. “Family?”
“Sort of,” Sydney said. “We’re all here for the Banks/DeBleu wedding.”
“Oh, I see!” Barbara gave a tinkling laugh as if that made everything acceptable. “Getting pre-wedding spa treatments?”
“Massages,” Kate said. “And we have to head that way now, or we’ll be late. Are we good to go?”
“Yes, yes.” Barbara lifted Lydia from Sydney’s arms. “She’ll be in great hands!”
Elsie reached for Sydney’s proffered diaper bag and shouldered it. Emily felt suffocated as the four women around her made tittering sounds of goodbye and lots of waves. She pretended to be swept up in the festivities when really, her head ached and she wanted to be left alone.
Finally, Kate grabbed Emily’s elbow and dragged her away. As they shuffled toward their massages, Emily overheard Elsie asking if she could hold Lydia for a little bit. And, Emily realized, she wanted to be left behind too. She wanted more time alone with Lydia too; she wanted to hold the baby and look into her innocent little eyes and wonder what if.
“Emily,” Lulu said softly. “Honey, it’s time to go.”
Emily turned, feeling her gaze harden as she looked at Lulu. “I need a drink.”
* * *
Detective Ramone: Ms. Clint, I understand you are in charge of child care here at Serenity Spa & Resort?
Barbara Clint: That’s right, officer.
Detective Ramone: A baby by the name of Lydia Banks was dropped off today, correct?
Barbara Clint: Yes, and boy, was she adorable. What’s more, I barely had any work to do with her. The girl, Elsie, watched her the whole time. She was such a doll with the baby.
Detective Ramone: As for the baby’s mother, do you remember who dropped her off?
Barbara Clint: Absolutely. I have the sign-in logs. It was Kate Cross and Sydney Banks—here for the wedding, of course. And then there was the baby’s father.
Detective Ramone: The baby’s father? He was there when the women dropped him off?
Barbara Clint: No, no. He swung by while the women were getting their massages.
Detective Ramone: Did he give you a name?
Barbara Clint: Well, no—not exactly. But we didn’t let him inside either. Like I tell all the parents who check in children with us, nobody signs their children out except the person who dropped them off. It’s a safety precaution.
Detective Ramone: What exactly did the baby’s father say to you? Did he tell you he was the father?
Barbara Clint: Well, no. Now that I think about it, he didn’t say much of anything at all. He sort of swung by the entrance and stopped there. I thought he was looking over at Lydia, who sat on Elsie’s—the teenager’s—lap. It’s really hard to say for sure what happened now that I’m looking back.
Detective Ramone: Did he speak to you specifically, Ms. Clint?
Barbara Clint: Well, now that you mention it, he didn’t say anything at all. I asked if he was checking on Lydia, and he nodded. I assumed… Are you telling me the man I spoke to wasn’t Lydia’s father?
* * *
“Here they are!” Barbara called as Kate approached the children’s play area with Sydney post-massage. “I have to tell you both, this young lady is the best babysitter I’ve ever seen. I didn’t even have to look over here more than twice the entire time! And she even got the little sweetheart to sleep.”
Kate wasn’t sure if it was the masseuse (who’d really done a number on her neck) or Barbara’s falsetto cheery voice that made her reach for the aspirin she’d purchased the previous night. She offered one to Sydney, who shook her head, her eyes glazed with motherly love as she held her arms out to retrieve Lydia. It was almost painful to see how much Sydney loved her daughter.
“Oh, my,” Sydney cooed to Lydia, then looked genuinely amazed at Elsie. “I can’t believe you got her down—that’s a real task. Most days, she doesn’t take any sort of nap without a fight. She’s a screamer, this one.”
“Really?” Elsie bounced Lydia a bit longer before offering her to Sydney. “She didn’t cry once for me. She giggled a lot, though. Thanks for letting me hang out with her.”
“No, thank you,” Sydney said. “Will you be at the rehearsal dinner tonight? I’m sure Lydia would love to see her new friend there.”
Elsie felt herself grinning. “I think my mom is forcing me to go. Maybe I can babysit for a little bit so you can have some time with your friends.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Sydney said, her hip jutted out as she bounced the baby. “But I’m so happy to hear we’ll see you there. Maybe save a little dance for Lydia. I hear they’ll have a live band after.”
Elsie was about to agree, but Kate jumped impatiently into the conversation. She had a job to do and not a lot of time to do it.
“Your mother mentioned on the way back from the spa that she had to go check on the little ones,” Kate said, her eyes landing on Elsie. “I told her that maybe the big girls—me and you, I mean—could have a coffee?”
“I can’t—”
“We’ll get you a decaf Frappuccino thing.” Kate waved a hand impatiently. “Let me introduce you to the most magical drink of the rest of your life.”
Sydney and Lydia were already headed off, presumably for more naps and eats. Elsie looked over to where her family was doing their own thing. Kate saw a glimpse of frustration in her eyes before Elsie responded.
“Sure,” she said, turning back to Kate. “I suppose nobody would miss me.”
“Great. How old are you?”
“Fifteen,” Elsie answered sharply, as if on a job interview. “Almost sixteen, I guess.”
“Ah, I remember that age. Quite a while ago for me. You know, I knew your mom in college.”
Elsie’s face was filled with skepticism. “So I heard. Honestly, I’m surprised my mom would hang out with someone like you.”
“Like me?”
“You know,” Elsie said, shrugging uncomfortably. “Cool. It’s not like my mom is cool.”
“We shared an apartment,” Kate said, glancing down at her nails. “We don’t keep in touch regularly anymore, but…well, I suppose we should.”
Elsie shrugged. “Friends don’t really last.”
“No, I’d suspect not—especially at your age.” Kate pushed her glasses up onto her head. “You’re pretty, you know. I’m sure you have a ton of boys trailing behind you like dogs at school. They’re ridiculous at that age.”
“They are ridiculous.” Elsie wrinkled her nose. “But I’m not interested in dating yet.”
“Really?” Kate stopped walking, quite pleased with the way things were going already. She and Elsie were moving quickly through her agenda, and with any luck, she would be able to report back to Ginger after a single cappuccino. Kate really should have a daughter—she wasn’t all that shabby at this mothering business. “I hated dealing with boys at your age, but I felt like I was about the only one who did.”
“Yeah, no,” Elsie said. “The ones at my school are all so immature.”
“Huh,” Kate said and resumed walking so as not to appear too eager. “Good for you. I didn’t have a serious boyfriend until I was twenty-three. My friends thought—”
“Hold on a second.” Elsie put up her hand and paused. “Did my mom put you up to this?”
“What?” Kate gave what she imagined was a convincing look of surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t believe she did this!” Elsie’s face darkened like a tornado cloud. “She’s so…ugh!”
“What is it?” Kate asked, bending her eyebrows together in manufactured concern. “What did your mother do?”
�
��She set you up to talk to me about boys.” Elsie barely managed to mutter it before shaking her head. “Dating, whatever.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kate said, “but you have to give me a chance. Your mom didn’t set this up. She was moping in the lobby, worried about you, and I suggested she let me talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Because I waited until I was twenty-three to have sex,” Kate said as Elsie’s face bloomed bright pink at the mention of intercourse. The girl really was innocent. “And will you look at me? I made out okay. I thought—maybe I had something to say that could help with what you’re going through. Talking to moms about this stuff is so…ugh. But I’m not your mother.”
“Yeah, but I’m not interested in…that,” Elsie said with a wave of her hand that indicated the magical, adult expression of love. “If my mom would have stopped for a second to ask me about my feelings on the subject, I would have told her the truth. An older girl at school put the stupid things in my bag. I didn’t buy them.”
Kate gave a bark of laughter. “Pranks have changed since I was a kid. We used to…I don’t know, flush people’s heads in the toilet.”
“You actually did that?”
“Not me. But I heard the stories. I would never do anything so barbaric. However, I might have put laxative in a girl’s lunchtime soda when she stole my prom date.”
Elsie’s mouth fell open. “You didn’t. Did it work?”
Kate gave a tinkling laugh. “Don’t try it. You’re not like me, Elsie. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and funny. So…leave the stupid girls alone to do their thing. The second they graduate from high school, it stops being cute.”
“She wasn’t trying to be mean. She was trying to help me out. It’s just…high school is complicated. My mom doesn’t understand.”
“It feels like high school is your whole life,” Kate said, “and it is right now. But by the time you get to be my age? I barely remember it. High school is this ugly little scar where a big fat pimple used to be. It was unpleasant and embarrassing, and I hated nearly everything about it, but I got through it. The experience passed, and I scarred over, and now I don’t even remember the names of my high school friends.”