“I’d kill for a tan right now.” Wynn looks at her white hands. “And a manicure.”
I’ve been working double shifts at the department store. I’ve also managed to land some steady clients who want their makeup done during the weekends, plus a few gigs at children’s parties where the kids want their faces painted like their favorite animals. It leaves very little time for Trent and me to see each other. Sometimes I only get to see him once or twice a week. Work has also been getting in the way of my usual Thursday date nights with the girls.
So when, this Sunday during brunch, they begin making plans for spring break and tell me we’re all invited with our partners to spend a long weekend at Callan’s Miami house, I’m too work-tired to decline and desperately looking forward to some fun times.
Trent, however, is not that excited about the expense. I convince him to use his airplane miles, but when it turns out he doesn’t have enough miles, I end up using all of my saved credit card miles and splurge on both of our tickets.
I know that his business has put a strain on his finances. I also know that I’m saving for an apartment and can’t afford frivolous spending. But I’m excited about spending time with him out of the city. Between my busy work schedule and his, we don’t spend as much time as we should together. I want to remedy that this spring break.
*
I end up packing last minute on the very same day we leave for Miami. Trent is already at my place, all his stuff packed in a tiny black carry-on duffel. Men. There is no way I can fit all of my things in even a bag double that size.
I rummage through my closet and I hold up a bikini that I got as a birthday present from Rachel two years ago.
“What do you think about me packing this bikini, as well as my one-piece?”
He eyes the bikini thoughtfully, scratches one of his freckles with a sheepish look, and then looks at me. “Are you going to fix your hair?”
“What do you mean? Of course I’m fixing my hair.” I tug the careless ponytail I’m wearing and roll my eyes.
“Then I like it.” He grins.
I continue packing, suddenly shooting him a sideways frown. I like that he’s honest, I prefer honesty over the pure bullshit I got from Paul. But I love wearing my ponytail when I’m relaxing or when I’m having a bad hair day. A ponytail is so much easier than spending hours with the flat iron.
“I better shower and get ready to leave,” I say when I notice the time. Our flight leaves in three hours.
Trent glances at the time too and nods at me with a wink, looking cute in a baseball cap and a blue tee as he helps me zip up my luggage.
I check my phone and see a text from my mother.
Heard your message, Gina! Glad things are going well, we miss you and hope to come home for Christmas this year and meet this boy of yours! Love from Mom and Dad
“My parents want to meet you,” I say.
“Wow. I’m so ready for that,” he says, stunned but obviously happy.
I purse my lips thoughtfully, then realize I will never be able to change my parents. I know that they love me in their own quirky way, but they never really loved spending time with me more than they enjoyed spending time with each other.
I will never come first.
They will never rush to answer my phone calls, my texts, my messages.
But they want to meet my boyfriend now, and I’m grateful that they’re even moderately interested.
“You know what?” I say thoughtfully. “Me too. I feel so good about this trip, Trent, I really want to spend time with you.”
Aiming to prove to him how much I mean it, I spend half an hour after showering to flat-iron my hair, determined for him to drool over me the entire long weekend.
BEACH HOUSE
We arrive in Florida at 3 p.m. The humidity is so high that my hair starts curling within minutes of standing out on the airport sidewalk while waiting for a taxi. I end up having to pull my hair back in a ponytail and “I really like you with your hair down best” Trent pouts sadly.
“Complain to the humidity.” I realize I sound cross and this is not how I wanted our vacation to go, so I force myself to lighten up and nudge him. “Come on, it’s still me.”
He frowns. “Why are you hitting me?”
I pause and straighten. “Hit you? I was just…nudging you…whatever.” I shake my head and laugh to myself.
My stomach sinks a little. I remember all the things about myself I had once tried to change to please Paul. Does every relationship require that to work? Do you need to change stuff you like or do simply to deserve being wanted and loved?