Chapter 3

Lauren

"You sure you're okay with driving the next three hours?" Marcy, my best friend, asked. I'd sat co-pilot five of the fifteen hours we'd already driven. My eyes weren't tired, and focusing on the open road helped my scattered thoughts become muted.

"Just take the early hours on the way back," I smiled. My blue, troubled eyes were hidden by my sunglasses. I was only nineteen, but my life had been a cluster of disappointment and uncertainty.

"On the way back? I thought we weren't coming back?" she teased.

I laughed under my breath.

"Colby would miss you too much," she added, unscrewing the top to her bottle of pop. "I know you've been thinking about him the entire ride."

"I have not," I lied.

The glare she sent me while taking a swig of her drink was filled with empathy. "He really does love you, Lo."

My eyes watered behind my sunglasses. Why was it so hard for me to believe he had the best intentions for me? Colby was a good guy. He gave me space, but would be there in an instant if I needed him. It hurt him when I didn't respond to his invitation of co-habitating, and instead took off on an eighteen-hour road trip with his cousin, without him. He asked when I was coming back, and I still had yet to respond to the text message.

"I get that you're afraid to have a relationship, I really do. He wants to take care of you, though," she added.

Finally, she accepted my silence and leaned her seat backward to fall asleep. Marcy knew I didn't like to talk about Colby and his affection for me. I would open up to her once I had a few days of breathing in the salty air. It always seemed to calm my nerves.

YaYa helped, she was Marcy and Colby's grandmother, but she felt like mine too. She was loving, generous, and devoted to her family. Qualities I wasn't used to getting from the only adult in my life.

My phone chirped, notifying me of a text message. As if she realized I'd been comparing her to someone else.

Mom: Where are you?

Guilt rushed me for not telling her I was leaving town. Normally it was a few days before she sent me a message. This must have been record timing. Glancing between my phone and the road, I replied back.

Me: I'm going to Alabama with Marcy. Not sure when I'll be home.

She began typing instantly. I rolled my eyes, tossing my phone between the seats before I could see her response. I already had an unclear head, and texting with my mother while driving would sure enough get me killed.

"Was that Colby?" Marcy yawned, resituating in her seat.

"No, he knows when to leave me alone."

"Dearest Mom, then?" she asked, but already knew the answer.

"The one and only," I sighed.

"You're too good to that low-life."

Marcy was right, but I was all my mom had. Inside I was desperate for her to change, but knew in my heart it would never happen. Eventually I'd tell her where the stash of cash was hidden in my room. She'd never survive if I left her without part of the little income I made at the Arcade and Go-Kart Fun Spot in our small town.

"Once I have enough money for college, I won't have to worry about her." It wasn't a total lie. I wanted to go to school and make something of myself, but I didn't have the heart to completely abandon my mother. I didn't know what I wanted to go to school for either.

"There are loans for that." Marcy didn't believe my game plan.

"I don't want to be owned by a bank my entire life."

"If you go to college and get a good job, you can pay them off, but that would require leaving the lovely town of Harris."

"I've got time. Besides, I can't leave your uncle hanging at the Arcade."

Marcy snorted. "Ain't that the truth. Your cut-off jean shorts and tanks are what keep the young kids entertained, not the quarter costing video games."

I waved my hand at her in dismissal.

"Those fourteen year old boys don't know what to do with themselves when you bend over to get the baseballs and softballs from the batting cages."

"That's gross."

"What's more gross is how they beat off the second they reach the bathroom. You know how disgusting those stalls are? I'd hate to see what it'd look like with a black light."

I winced. "You can stop now."

"Fine, but it's the truth. They can't get enough of the blonde bomb shell with a booty."

"Your butt is way nicer than mine," I pointed out. It was the truth. She was part Hispanic and had curves to die for. Her dark brown hair looked dazzling with her tan complexion, her green eyes standing out perfectly with her full lips. She was who the boys at the Arcade really admired.

"I know," she smiled, "hence why I don't work there anymore."

Shaking my head, I turned up the music and drove.

***

We arrived in record time, thanks to the lack of traffic. The end of May was The Shores' calm after the spring break storm, and before the summer beach travelers invaded.

"YaYa!" Marcy shrieked as she ran to her grandmother. She stood barely five feet tall, dressed in slacks and a heavy sweater. I never understood how she didn't sweat in the heat.

"Marcy," YaYa cooed, wrapping her in a warm embrace.

Retrieving our bags from the trunk, I tried to not feel awkward. YaYa was amazing, but she still wasn't my own blood. I yearned to have the same connection as Marcy and YaYa.

After Marcy let go, she came back to me, taking some of the luggage.

"My Lo Lo," YaYa called to me, her wrists flicking for me to come and give her a hug.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I scurried to her, accepting her hug as a toddler does to her mother. She smelled like a mix between lavender and fresh sweet corn. I breathed her in, feeling safe and at home.

"Lauren, it's been a while. What's new in your life?" she asked, kissing me on the cheek, keeping an arm around me as we approached the steps. The woman was nearing eighty years old, but took the creaky wooden steps like a champ. Her home was small and on stilts so the water wouldn't ruin everything when the storms and high tides came through.

"Same old thing," I smiled, opening the door to the kitchen. Nothing had changed about YaYa's house. Same sea shell wallpaper along the back of the tiny kitchen, light blue walls painted in the living room with white wicker furniture. There were three bedrooms, one for YaYa and the other two were reserved for Marcy and Colby. When I strolled passed his room, I stopped for a moment, an ache filling me.

He'd held me many nights on top of the tan comforter of the twin bed. Stroking my hair and pressing his lips to my forehead, telling me life was easier here, and to not think about what was happening at home.

"You can stay in here if you want," Marcy cooed, speeding past me to her room. "At least until Colby finds a way to come here and woo you." She wiggled her brows at me before stepping into her room.

"Cortar hacia fuera!" YaYa scolded then gave me a grin, "Stay wherever you'd like. Don't listen to Marcy. You ni?as are too young to worry about boys."

"I'll stay with Marcy." I didn't need the reminder of Colby, and the fact I couldn't be who he wanted me to be.

Finding the room, I let out a soft sigh of contentment. The bunks were still the same, a soft pale pink comforter on one, while the other was cream. There were crocheted blankets on the foot of each bed. YaYa made them herself, a blend of creams and greens. I always pondered 'accidently' packing one to take home. The walls were a seafoam, a series of starfish planted around the window that overlooked the strip of the touristy town. We could see the high-rise hotels that would hold the mounds of spring breakers looking for fun and temporary love. They were deserted this time of year. Marcy would be disappointed, but that wouldn't stop her eyes from finding new prospects.

"You want the top as usual?" Marcy asked, beginning to un-pack her bags in the dresser.

"Sure." The top bunk allowed snippets of the ocean to come into view at night. The stars always shined brighter against the reflection of the water.

"Hussle, ni?as, I need help in the kitchen for dinner. I'm making your favorite."

Marcy held her hand over her heart. We knew by the smell. Mexican-spiced beef brisket was in the oven. "Remind me why we live in Michigan?"

I snickered. "Because that's where we're anchored too."

Marcy slammed her dresser drawer shut. "We're adults now. I'm leaving whenever I feel like it."

I smiled at her. "That's the plan."