Page 48 of Between Then and Now
She continues, her gaze softening as she gently touches my cheek with that unmistakable motherly tenderness. “We were notified immediately when you regained consciousness, but we just had to come here and check on you in person.” Her eyes are filled with concern and love. “How are you? And what happened?”
“You got a notification that my heart slowed down, and you somehow arrived in the most glamorous vacation wear I’ve seen in ages?” I say, chuckling halfheartedly.
“Oh, we shopped at the airport when we were re-notified of your good health,” my mom says. “We’re not that terrible, you know.” Living off a fortune, indeed. Who the hell shops last minute at the airport?
I love my parents, I do. But I love them in a way that I'll be sad when they die, not in a way that I want to sit and have endless conversations with them. It's complicated. I appreciate their efforts and care, but spending extended periods of time together can be draining. Watching them interact with each other is confusing; their dynamic has shifted dramatically over the years.
There was a time when I thought their marriage was on the brink of collapse. The fights were loud and frequent, filled withwords that cut deep. I remember nights lying in bed, listening to them argue, wondering if this would be the time they finally called it quits. But somehow, they pulled through. They went from a couple that seemed to be at each other's throats to one that’s now all lovey-dovey. They patched things up, and as a daughter, I'm grateful for that. It’s a relief not to worry about them splitting up, and an even bigger relief not to worry about them hurting each other. But it's also disconcerting. Witnessing their affection feels almost intrusive, like I'm peeking into a private part of their relationship I was never meant to see.
I ask them to take a seat at the foot of my bed, and they oblige, their luggage in tow.
“Do you want me to go out to give you guys privacy?” Ryan asks, awkwardly standing by the door.
“No!” I say too soon “Stay, please,” I add, instinctively holding his arm to pull him into the room with me. The need for his presence feels almost desperate, and I’m so thankful that he lets me drag him with me as we sit on his bed while we talk to my parents.
We tell them everything, from the child drowning to my blackout to Ryan completely saving me. As we recount the events, I notice the way Ryan’s voice slightly trembles when he describes finding me unconscious. He talks about the panic, the fear, and the overwhelming relief when I started breathing regularly again. I thought I’d only imagined Ryan’s lips on mine when I was at the beach, like one of those near-death hallucinations, but hearing the verbal confirmation from him today makes my mind swirl. It’s real. He saved me.
I can see my mother’s hands trembling slightly, and my father’s jaw tightening with every word. They don’t interrupt, letting us pour out the details of that terrifying day.
“You gave our Bonbon rescue breathing?” my dad says. “After diving into the ocean to save her?” he continues.
“Yes, sir,” Ryan answers with a curt nod.
My parents exchange a look that seems to say they’re piecing together something more than just the facts. After a moment, my dad breaks the silence, his tone both approving and matter-of-fact. “Always knew you were a good kid.”
My mom, her eyes moistening slightly, takes Ryan’s hand in both of hers. “Thank you, dear. We’re so grateful for what you did. Your mother would have been so proud of you,” she adds.
“No thanks necessary,” Ryan responds, his voice steady. “I’d do it all over again if I have to.” He throws a very subtle glance in my direction, but I catch it. Our eyes meet briefly before we both look away—me, to focus on my fidgeting hands, and Ryan, to stare at the wall. So much for subtlety.
After a few moments of awkward silence, my mom finally breaks it with forced cheerfulness. “So, this is where you’ve been staying?” She stands up and starts to survey the room with a critical eye. “So cute and quaint.” Her mouth says the words but her eyes scream to be taken out of the inn.
My dad, sensing her discomfort, clears his throat and tries to smooth over the situation. “Well, it’s certainly… cozy,” he says, his eyes shifting between the room and my mom’s increasingly discontented expression.
Ryan steps in with a warm smile. “It’s not much, but it’s comfortable and has a lot of charm. I’ve been staying here too, so I can vouch for it.”
“Yeah, it’s grown on me, too,” I say.
My mom gives a short nod, though she clearly wishes she were somewhere else. She glances at my dad, who seems to betrying hard to ignore the growing tension. “Well, we’re just glad to see you’re okay. We were really worried.”
Ryan and I exchange a glance, both trying to navigate the delicate balance of being supportive while accommodating my parents’ discomfort.
“Well, if you need anything or want to get out and explore, just let me know,” Ryan offers, attempting to lighten the mood. I look at him in horror, my eyes wide as I rapidly shake my head in disagreement. Ryan catches my reaction and mouths a “What?”, his expression puzzled but concerned. My parents are nosy, intrusive, and overcompensating. There’s no way they will pass up an opportunity to linger. And true enough, before I can respond, my mom claps her hands together with a decisive nod.
“Yes! We’re leaving tomorrow, anyway,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “You should definitely show us around!”
My dad gives a resigned smile, clearly going along with whatever will make my mom happy. “Yes, a tour sounds great. We’ve only got a day, but we’d love to see as much as we can.”
I stare at them, trying to process the fact that they’ve gone to the trouble of booking same-day flights just to spend a single day here. It’s almost comical in its extravagance.
“Well, that’s settled then,” I say, forcing a smile as I try to embrace the situation. “I guess we’ll make the most of it. I’ll show you around, and we can try to fit in as much as possible before you leave.”
I motion for Ryan to meet me in the hallway, and we excuse ourselves.
“Look, you don’t have to stay for the whole tour; you probably have things to do,” I say as I close the door behind us.
Ryan shakes his head, a reassuring smile on his face. “No, I can have someone cover for me. Besides, there’s only a weekleft. We’ve administered all the vaccines, and we’re just really checking up on locals in the last week. Not that busy anymore.”
His willingness to stay and help eases a bit of my anxiety. I look at him, grateful but also aware of the underlying tension between us. “I know things aren’t exactly… normal between us,” I begin, my voice trailing off as I struggle to find the right words to address the awkwardness that has settled in since the incident.
