Page 27 of Adrift

Not the bullies and body-shamers.

Not the asshole boyfriend I found on my prom night with his dick inside the girl who practically ruined my elementary and middle school experience.

And definitely not the mother who held her love hostage in exchange for forcing her kids to meet her ever-increasing, impossibly high standards.

Despite having been raised by her, despite the constant scrutiny and mockery, I’ve worked hard to not be a reflection of her. I’ve worked hard to not be bitter or mean.

This is not who I am–I’m careful with my words and the feelings of others. I might be headstrong, but I’m never heartless. So why am I letting her unravel all the work I’ve done?

My chin drops to my collarbone as guilt smears across my face. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Ah, but you did.” Her derisive laugh is anything but cheerful. “You did. Just like she did.”

Tears float behind my lids, too exhausted to fall. “Mom, I don’t claim to know it all, but from what I can see, if you’re looking to everyone around you to find what it is that you need–whether it be Dad, me, or even Sonia–you won’t get it. You won’t get it unless you find it in yourself first.”

My mother’s voice turns more condescending and harsh as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. “And what does my wise, teenage daughter think I need?”

“Happiness, peace, fulfillment, love . . . forgiveness.”

My mother just stares at me, giving nothing away from her expression. Whether my words have resonated with her or not, I’ll never know.

The rain seems to be coming down harder, and I still need to get the doughnuts and muffins to take to the nursing home this morning. “Listen, Mom, I need to go. I’m sorry again for what I said.” I wait until she meets my eyes before hanging up. “I love you.”

* * *

“Well, don’t those look scrumptious.”

I set the boxes of pastries on the breakfast table and look up at an elderly couple walking toward me. A tall man holding a walker slowly approaches me alongside a tiny woman, who I assume is his wife based on the way she’s gently holding his bicep. The couple look to be in their eighties, and even though he’s hunched down considerably over his walker, there’s quite a height difference between the two.

“Fred.” The woman’s wavering voice warns her husband. Her hair is almost completely gray, while Fred’s is more salt and pepper. “You can just have one, so pick wisely.”

Fred scowls, eyeing the boxes of sugar in front of him before raising his eyes to me. “She’s a real ball-buster, my wife. I’ve had to endure this kind of treatment for nearly sixty years.”

The woman just shakes her head, but the corners of her mouth tilt up, making her wrinkles shift across her face. “Thank you for bringing these for us, dear.” She takes account of the visitor tag above my right breast. “Are you visiting someone specific?”

I shake my head, smiling. My hair is still a frizzy mess from the rain that drenched me on the way inside but thankfully, most of it has dried off inside the cool building. “No, I’m actually going to start volunteering here on the weekends or whenever I can come in.” I nod at the boxes on the table. “The staff let me bring these in and stay for breakfast to meet some of you.”

Blue eyes under heavy lids sparkle, catching the light. “Oh! Well, that’s nice of them and you.” She extends a frail arm in my direction, and I notice large brown age spots over her skin. “My name is Lynn and this,” she turns to her husband, and my heart melts at the way he winks at her, “is my sweet-toothed husband, Fred. He still believes he can eat sugar like a five-year-old at the carnival, so I have to keep an eye on him.”

“I have no problems with you keeping your eyes on me, sweetheart. I don’t want them on anyone but me. It’s why I still look as dashing as I do, even now at my spritely age. All for you. But a man should be allowed a few indulgences from time to time.”

Lynn purses her lips. “Your definition of ‘time to time’ is daily.”

“And yours is yearly. By your calculations, that doesn’t leave very many desserts for me to enjoy.”

I giggle as Lynn’s exasperated eyes meet mine again. “Do you see what I have to deal with?” She looks back at him, holding back an eye roll. “Well, go ahead, then. Get your sugar fix and leave this poor girl alone.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” I respond hurriedly. “I’m Rani, by the way. It was great meeting you both.”

“You too, Rani.” Fred smiles, following his wife toward the dining area, before turning back and whispering, “Keep bringing in those treats, okay?”

I laugh, feeling the weight of everything over the past weekend–from the mortifying way I acted with my brother-in-law to the argument with my mother–melt off me. “I promise.”

* * *

“So fucking stupid,” I groan to myself, taking a bite out of my egg-and-cheese sandwich. “Stupid, stupid girl.”

It’s been at least two hours since I parked my butt on this sandy beach overlooking the lake, and I’ve circled through the same loop inside my brain. Embarrassment, confusion, and denial, followed by a healthy dose of pure shame.

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