Turning onto my street reminded me just how different life would have been if my dad were still alive. As Vice President of Silver Lake Resort, my childhood had been one of lavish events, all the stuffed animals I could want for my tea parties, as well as a house big enough to hold at least four of the shack my mom and I lived in now.
Although now, I had come to realize that I didn’t care about any of it. As I pedaled past the dwindling mansions that led to the single blue-collar neighborhood in Oakland for all of the resort’s employees, I knew that none of that really mattered. Not the events, not the luxuries, and certainly not the snobbish people who only cared about the numbers in their bank account.
All I wanted was to see my dad again—a wish that would never be granted.
None of these brats knew how lucky they were. None of them had lost their father to the lake, drowned trying to save me when I’d gotten caught in an undertow.
My mom said that it was a blessing that I was too young to remember. Nobody needed to relive something like that and she often showed me pictures of my dad holding me as a baby just to remind me how much I’ve always been loved.
I knew that, but it didn’t change that it still felt like my life was in limbo waiting for something that would never happen.
It was time to change that. I made up my mind to stop being afraid, to stop being isolated as I rolled into my driveway.
Parking my bike against the rusty garage, I didn’t bother locking it because the neighborhood kids wouldn’t want to steal a bike that could barely keep its chain on. The Resorties had much better rides they often left outside and were too lazy to report if one or two went missing.
Still, I patted my trusty steed goodbye before heading on inside.
“Hey Mom,” I said, immediately taking note that she was in the exact same position that I’d left her in this morning. She hunched over her desk that doubled as our dining table, surrounded by papers strewn about. She gave me an absent wave that showed off ink blots all over her fingers.
“Hey, Vivi,” she said without looking up. “Have a nice day?”
“Mhmm,” I murmured as I went to the fridge and began pulling out the groceries I’d bought yesterday. I placed chicken and some vegetables onto the counter before I dipped under the sink to scoop out a cup of rice. If I didn’t cook dinner, my mom would go without eating for days, and I couldn’t live on Slim Jims forever.
I whistled an old tune while I worked, chopping up the chicken and throwing it in a bowl to mix with some spices.
My mother finally looked up from her work and narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “You sound happy. Something go on at school today?”
My whimsical mood cut short as I realized I had no idea how I was going to tell my mom about the party. She wasn’t like other moms. She wouldn’t care about it, and she’d probably be happy for me.
But the lake?
That would be a big fat “no.”
“Uh, yeah, actually,” I said, folding the chicken over on itself with the spices. “I was invited to a party and I was thinking about going, if that’s okay.”
Both her eyebrows shot up. “A party?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I turned on the burner and coated the pan with coconut oil—my key secret ingredient. “It’s across town,” I lied.
She thumbed her pen, popping the cap on and off. Telling her about the party was a risk if she knew there would be a bonfire next to the Resort, which if she ever went into the office she would likely be aware of. One glance at our kitchen table with papers strewn about and yesterday’s coffee mug assured me she hadn’t left the house for days, which was no surprise, given she preferred to work from home. She didn’t like to go into the office, given Silver Lake Resort was so close to where we lost my father.
“Well what are you doing cooking me dinner, then?” she asked, making my shoulders relax as she smiled. She brushed her hands on her pants and joined me, taking the spatula out of my hand. “Go on. Pick out something to wear and take your time for once. I’ll finish up here.”
The party wasn’t for another couple of hours, but I liked the quirky smile on my mom’s face. I pinched her cheek. “That looks good on you,” I said.
She smirked. “What? You mean two-day-old makeup?”
“A smile,” I remarked on a laugh. After the daily crap life dealt us, smiling was something too far and few between around here.
She turned over my chicken even though it hadn’t cooked enough yet, but I didn’t comment on it. “Well, seeing my little girl happy puts a smile on my face.” She grinned. “Will there be boys there? What am I saying, of course there will be. Do you have your eye on any of them?”
“Mom!” I gasped. “I so do not want to talk about this with you.”
She sucked in a breath as if she was twenty years younger and we were to besties talking it up. “There is a boy!”
I waved her off as I turned to escape upstairs. “I’m not talking about this with y-ou!” I reiterated in a singsong voice.
Her laughter followed me up the stairs as I ran into my room, but I had a smile on my face. I closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath to
