“Mother, I’ve told you over and over. I am not gay. I’m a woman. Liking boys has nothing to do with it.”
“Tell that to someone who didn’t change your diapers.” Charlotte’s mother gasped before continuing in a hissing whisper, “Now look what you’ve done! You made me stoop to using vulgarity.”
“I didn’t make you do anything. You chose to stoop. Just like you chose narrow-minded cruelness over compassion and understanding when I came to you with my truth.”
“Because it was all a bunch of hooey instigated by your wretched grandmother.”
“Good-bye, Mother. We won’t talk again until you can respect my decisions. I wish you a good day.”
Charlotte tapped the END CALL button and threw her phone across the bed.
I shouldn’t have answered. I should have known better. I should pull the covers over my head and cry myself back to sleep.
But for the first time in her eighteen years, Charlotte didn’t.
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t allow her mother to ruin her birthday.
Instead, she kicked off her pretty flowered comforter and went to the sliding glass door that led to her balcony. Not caring that it was raining and the wind was crazily whipping the seashell chime she’d hung the day she’d moved in, Charlotte grabbed her soft pink bathrobe, wrapped it around herself, and stepped out onto the balcony.
Stretching her arms wide, Charlotte did what she’d done every morning since she’d arrived on Galveston Island—she embraced the vast expanse of gorgeous water that stretched before her as far as she could see.
Waves crashed against the seawall and the slanting rain impaired visibility, but Charlotte loved every molecule of it. The water fed her soul, washing her clean of her mother’s anger and negativity.
It’s my eighteenth birthday and no one here knows it!
The thought didn’t make Charlotte feel sad—quite the opposite, actually. The fact that she hadn’t really made a friend yet wasn’t a big deal. Charlotte always took her time making friends. She’d learned years ago that people could be cruel. Very cruel. Especially people who claimed to be her friend. And not having any friends meant she could do exactly what she wanted to do on this big, important, life-changing birthday.
Turning eighteen meant Charlotte would be able to complete her gender reassignment surgery next summer break!
“And that is a fantastic reason for me to celebrate today—by myself—doing exactly and only what I want to do.”
She checked the clock. It was eight-thirty. Grandma Myrtie wouldn’t call until around noon because, unlike her mother, her grandma understood her perfectly. She knew Charlotte loved to sleep in and wake slowly—and Grandma Myrtie respected that.
Charlotte stared out at the seething waves for another moment before hurrying into her tidy kitchenette and blending a quick smoothie. She pulled on her wetsuit and tied her long blond hair up in a high ponytail. Then she grabbed a cover-up, beach towel, and her bag and skipped lightly down the stairs.
She’d made it to her car when Kate, her next-door neighbor who was in her Intro to Marine Biology class, called from across the parking lot to her.
“Hey, Charlotte! You’re not going to the beach, are you?” Kate eyed the beach bag and towel. “The hurricane’s been downgraded to a tropical storm, but it’s really not safe out there.”
“Oh, I know,” Charlotte replied cheerfully. “I’m not actually going in the water,” she lied. “I’m just going for a quick jog.”
“Suit yourself, but I say the school’s gym and a dry, warm treadmill is a better choice.”
“I hear ya! Thanks!” Charlotte dismissed her with a wave and a smile as she slid behind the wheel of the old Focus. “And that is exactly why it’s good I don’t have any friends. Yet. Friends are nosy. Acquaintances are not so nosy.”
Charlotte pulled out of the parking lot and let her instincts guide her. She turned east onto Highway 87 because it felt like the right way to go, and began to meander along the seaside, happy that the impending storm made the usually heavy weekend traffic sparse.
She’d planned on parking and walking along the beach, listening for the sounds of singing in the waves, but decided to cross the bridge onto the Bolivar Peninsula instead. She hadn’t explored much there yet, and Charlotte quickly fell in love with the little strip of rugged lowlands.
She’d gone quite a ways east when the sign for Cobb’s Cove caught her eye, and she took a right, bumping along the narrow, sandy road until she came to a small, deserted beach parking lot where she parked. Grabbing her bag and her towel, Charlotte locked her car and then hurried toward the waves and the sound of beautiful voices that called seductively to her.
Mark
“Okay, breakfast is more than ready!” Eve called from the kitchen. “Mark, I do not care if that old man is still French-kissing that damn dog. He’s been out there half an hour. Go get him. Now.”
“I love it when Markey’s in trouble,” Matthew said without looking up from his laptop.
“Ditto, my bro!” Luke’s laugh was tinged with cruelty as he and Matthew fist-bumped.
“Grow up. Both of you,” Mark told them, then called to his sister. “I’ll go out and get him.” With one last frown aimed at his asshole brothers, Mark went out onto the porch.