Page 59 of Beyond the Stroke

With my parents both gone, Daphne stands from where she was perched by my mom’s chair. She gives me and Summer a tight smile.

“Rory, when you’re done playing games, you know where to find me.”

“It’s not a game, sweetheart. We’re in L-O-V-E, love,” Summer announces loudly.

Daphne rolls her eyes before hitching her designer purse onto her shoulder and brushing past us. At one time, I cared for Daphne, but our relationship wasn’t right. Something was missing. It’s even more evident now we want different things.

With the entire dining room staring at us, I grab Summer’s hand and guide her through the room. My mom’s overdramatic cries echo down the hallway, so I pull us through a side exit near the pro shop, the opposite direction of where Daphne and my parents went.

“Well, that was wild,” Summer says, a self-satisfied grin on her face.

“Says the woman who walked in and announced that we’remarried.”

“I know.” Summer’s blue eyes light with glee. “Did you see their faces?”

We walk down the path on the edge of the golf course, then through a side gate that leads down to the beach.

I press my lips together to stifle a smile. I don’t want to hurt my parents but knowing my mom’s theatrics were based on the loss of her own desires for my life, not because she was truly worried I’d made a mistake is disheartening. “Yeah, I was there.”

“God, what jerks. They didn’t even say congratulations. Your mom made it all about her. How would you getting married make them so upset?” She pauses; eyes locked on where I’m still holding her hand. “I mean besides the fact that you nevermentioned you were dating anyone. Or that they’d never met me.”

My jaw tightens as I process my parents’ reaction. Summer is right.

For years, I thought I owed them. Early morning meets, club fees, travel expenses—they gave everything to support my swimming. They sacrificed things in the pursuit of my dreams and they never let me forget it. Guilt is my mom’s favorite form of currency.

Over the last decade, I’ve used money from swimming to help with their businesses, I’ve done everything they’ve asked of me, but it’s never enough. I’ve always felt like I owed them something. Like my life wasn’t mine and I don’t know at what point they would have been satisfied.

Summer drops my hand and turns toward the beach path. Her shoulders are tense, her pace brisk, like she’s trying to outrun the conversation.

“Are you okay?” I ask, wondering if the chaos of what just happened is catching up to her.

“Just…give me…a minute.” Her purse drops from her shoulder and onto the sand next to her.

At the sound of Summer’s shaky breathing, my heart rate ticks up.

“Where’s your inhaler?” I ask.

“I don’t need it. I’ll…” She sucks in a wheezing breath, “I’ll be f-fine.”

By the sound of her labored breathing, I’m not reassured. I pick up her purse and pull out the inhaler in there. But something is different about it. I’m no expert on inhalers, but it feels lighter now. Turning it in my hand, I notice a number on the bottom. It doesn’t take an expert to know that zero means there’s no medication left.

“It’s empty.”

Summer opens her eyes briefly to roll them at me. She takes another shallow breath before answering. “Yeah, I know. It’s not a big deal.”

Her cavalier attitude sends a jolt of frustration into my blood. “Not a big deal? You’re literally wheezing.”

“I’m not wheezing. I’m just…breathing with personality.”

I can’t believe she’s joking about this. “Oh, so struggling to inhale is a cute little quirk now?”

“Some people bite their nails. I breathe like Darth Vader.” She demonstrates to prove her point.

“Summer, this isn’t cute. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not an attack.” She pauses to inhale slowly, then exhale. “I’m getting it under control.”

“If thiswasan attack, and your inhaler is empty, what was your plan?”

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