As the water glup-glup-glups from the cooler into the glass, I hear ten-year-old Sarah talking to Mom, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. When I come back into the living room, they are both sitting on the couch.
“We’re going to a movie!” ten-year-old Sarah says. “You can come with us. Or you can take that nap if you want.”
I look at Mom. “Isn’t that a little weird?” I look at ten-year-old Sarah. “Don’t you have to be home by dark?”
“I know who she is,” Mom says.
I don’t answer.
“How could I not recognize my own daughter?”
This is all happening too fast. And I’ve stopped thinking about how unoriginal everything is because this is original.
This is original.
MEXICO—Day Five I: Kids’ Club
We stood at the omelet station at the breakfast buffet—me, Dad, and Bruce. Mom preferred the Mexican yogurt and fresh fruit for breakfast. So far, none of us had contracted Montezuma’s Revenge and Mom trusted the fruit even though the guidebooks say to avoid the produce due to it being washed with tap water.
Dad and I had already ordered our omelets. Dad said, “Bruce, what do you want in yours?”
The cook stood waiting, but Bruce wouldn’t answer.
Dad said, “He’ll have the same as I’m having.”
When we left the omelet station with our plates full, Dad turned to Bruce and said, “What the hell is your problem?”
Bruce didn’t answer. This was not Bruce’s usual behavior. It was as if something were happening to Bruce in Mexico. I don’t know if it was the lying, the truth, the seaweed, or the shooting stars that changed him, but he was different on Day Five than he had been.
Dad bragged that he’d reserved two umbrellas on the beach. Up until Day Five, he’d only reserved one umbrella because Mom said it was rude to take up too much space with our rule-breaking. But Day Five he went all the way. He said, “I paid to come here and sit on the beach with my family.” He was talking like all the other selfish bastards at the resort now, except when he said my family he sounded like he owned us, not like he loved us.
Halfway through breakfast Bruce asked, “So what are we doing today?”
Mom didn’t answer because Dad was the vacation planner.
Dad didn’t answer because he was giving Bruce some payback in the not-talking department.
I said, “I want to swim, but then I want to do something else.”
“What else is there to do?” Mom asked.
“I saw on the daily newsletter that there’s a Ping-Pong tournament and stuff like that all afternoon. Games and a nature walk, too.”
“I didn’t come here to play Ping-Pong,” Dad said.
“Okay,” I said.
“There’s a kids’ club schedule at the main desk,” Mom said. “We’ll go look at it after breakfast, okay?”
She said that to me. But Dad acted like she said it to him. He said, “I don’t need to look at the fucking kids’ club schedule. I’m not here for games.”
Mom said, “Why not let them go and have fun?” I wanted to tell her that the kids’ club was for little kids, not for me and Bruce, but I kept quiet.
Dad looked at Bruce. Bruce was pushing his food around on his plate.
“It’s not up to you, Helen,” Dad said. He was acting so cranky, we all just stared at him while he shoved his omelet into his mouth and washed it down with the watered-down orange juice they were passing off as fresh-squeezed when anyone with taste buds could tell it was mixed from powder.
Mom got up and I got up and Bruce got up. We all went to look at the kids’ club activity schedule for the day.
Mom and Bruce had a conversation while I asked a balloon man in the lobby to make me a dolphin. When I came back with my balloon dolphin, Mom said, “Okay?” to Bruce. Bruce said, “Okay,” to Mom and then they hugged.
They both made a big deal out of my balloon dolphin.
When Mom headed back to the room, she looked at Bruce and said, “Ten minutes?”
He said, “Okay.”
But we didn’t wait ten minutes.
We stood outside the door and listened to them fight. Dad said Mom was undermining his authority. Mom said “What authority? This is vacation!” Dad said she knew damn well what he was talking about. Mom said, “I think you’re going deeper, Chet. I think you need to stop and remember why we’re here.”
“And why are we here, Helen?” he yelled.
“To help you,” she said. “To help you learn how to relax.”
“And you think I’ll relax when you undermine me? You think I’ll relax when you’re a bitch to me in front of my kids?”
That’s when Bruce touched his room key to the doorknob with his shaking hand and we walked in. It hadn’t been ten minutes. Probably more like five.
Mom was sitting on the sofa. Dad was standing above her with his arms wide, making his point. When we walked in, he put his arms to his sides and walked toward their bedroom. His fists were clenched. He didn’t even look at us.
Mom said, “Oh, hey, kids! Get ready for the beach!”
I said, because I was ten and excited for the kids’ club, “After the beach I can still go to the kids’ club, right?”
Mom said, “Sure, honey.”
Dad came in from their bedroom and just stood there.
Bruce said, “When are you going to just be nice to her?”
Second Chance