Well, it was no loss, really. The loss was in believing Renee had actually cared.
Her phone pinged with a text.
We need to get out of here before Hannah goes into cardiac arrest!!!
Always with the excessive punctuation. Maya herself was like a walking exclamation point. Blue got out of bed, washed up, grabbed her duffel bag and went next door.
Maya, wet haired and smelling like cheap shampoo, let her in. “Good morning, sunshine!”
Blue raised an eyebrow. “Is it though?”
Maya laughed. “It will be soon enough!”
In the background, Hannah was throwing her clothes into the trash bin.
“Don’t ask,” Maya said.
“Because it’s what I slept in,” Hannah explained, stricken. “Please, let’s get out of here!”
Blue’s heart tugged with pity. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to live inside Hannah’s terrified brain, to see the dark underbelly of life ever present, illuminated as if with a black light. She didn’t know how to help, so she grabbed Hannah’s bag and carried it out.
The day was gluey and overcast, the sun fuzzy and out of focus behind the clouds. In the parking lot, Blue stuffed their bags in the trunk and they all climbed into the car.
“This place looks even worse in the light of day!” Hannah said, staring back at the motel like it might give chase.
“Indeed, it does,” Maya said cheerfully. “But we survived it! Now if we could all just lighten up a tad—” she glanced at Hannah in the back seat dousing herself in Purell, at Blue probably looking world-weary beside her “—on our vacation...because hello, we’re on vacation...we might just have some fun.” She started the car, flipped on the radio, cranked the volume up. “Road trip dance party!” She swayed toward Blue, snapping her fingers to the music, flashing a big, cheesy grin.
Blue stared back, unamused.
Maya sighed, turned down the radio. “Probably for the best. No one needs to be traumatized by your dance moves this early in the morning.” She lowered the window, stuck her head out and yelled “Beach, here we come! Woo-hoo!” into the summer air. They peeled out of the lot.
In truth, Blue was pretty excited. She simply wasn’t as emotive as her friends. But when she thought of the house, everything good she knew of life felt stored there. Funny to think that the first time her parents sent her there it had seemed like a punishment. She was being shipped off for the summer to another state and to a grandmother she’d never met. But something had shifted when she saw the house. It was rustic and square and as welcoming as an invitation, made of rich brown wood with a white second-floor porch that seemed to practically float over the water. And those steep steps leading to the dock—she could walk straight out of the house and down into the sea.
Nana had run out to greet her in one of her bright-colored muumuus, her arms outstretched, her smile warm and genuine. “Little one!” she said, and just that, to be called an endearment for the first time in her life, dismantled Blue’s sullen defenses. In the kitchen there was iced tea and cookies set out for her and in her room a new boogie board still wrapped in its plastic, a teddy bear Blue was too old for waiting cheerfully for her on her bed. Blue was wanted here. She barely noticed when her parents left.
That first summer, Nana had made a great companion. She loved the beach and sometimes even joined Blue in the waves, wearing the most ridiculous bathing cap with flowers on it and a suit so bright it could be seen from space, whooping gleefully at the cold water as the gentle waves struck her. But even Nana could tell that the days were too long for Blue without friends her own age. The following year she told Blue to bring anyone she wanted. Blue had brought Renee and Maya and Hannah.
Had Blue understood back then what she was sharing? Probably not consciously. But in retrospect she could see how much lighter they all seemed in that house—where Hannah didn’t have to tiptoe and Maya didn’t have to duck a blow and Renee didn’t have to exist where people wished she didn’t.
Those first few years, Blue’s father drove them out in his big black Lincoln Town Car, listening to news radio and smoking his cigars like the girls weren’t even there, the four of them squeezed together in the back trying not to breathe too deep or die from boredom over the five-and-a-half-hour trip. But the minute they saw the sign for the Sunrise Highway, something about that magical name ignited their excitement. Even the road promised hope.
Once Maya turned sixteen, they drove out in her old ratty Jeep—the “heap Jeep,” they called it—hair whipping, music loud, a whooping cheer every time they saw that favorite sign.
Each summer Nana had given them a little more space, allowed them to develop their independence in a way that felt both safe and giddy. Once she even let Henry come and stay the night. He’d been a counselor at a tennis camp in New York that summer and took the Jitney out. They’d all gone to the beach, dutiful Henry loaded down with all their towels and chairs like their own personal Sherpa. He was always such a good sport about things like that. It had been a hot day and the ocean was refreshingly cold and sparkly and they’d body surfed the waves like a pod of dolphins for hours. Henry and Hannah kept pausing to kiss between the sets while Maya and Blue made gagging noises at them. When the sun mellowed and lowered, Henry and Hannah had gone for a walk, holding hands as they disappeared into the distance, Hannah laughing into his shoulder. As Blue watched them, she’d pictured them strolling the same beach in middle age—a couple of kids and maybe a golden retriever trailing behind, then old age, Hannah gray and Henry balding, still holding hands, still making each other laugh. Back then it seemed like the only certainty she could count on.
“Hey, Blue,” Maya said, interrupting her thoughts. “Remember that time you got stuck in a riptide and it pulled you into the middle of a surfing competition?” She was already laughing, had clearly envisioned it in her head before she spoke.
“Oh yeah. Some surf bro called me a speed bump and almost ran me over while I was drowning.”
“They thought you were out there on purpose!” Hannah said.
“I know! I was waving for help and everyone on shore was waving back!”
They were all laughing now.
“We called you ‘speed bump’ for the rest of the summer,” Hannah said.
“I remember,” Blue groaned.
“Was it Renee who grabbed some random dude’s board and paddled out to you?” Maya asked.
Blue knew the question was disingenuous. Maya was well aware of the answer. She could feel her blood pressure rise but refused to engage or be baited.
“That was some quick thinking,” Maya added. “Probably saved your life.”
Blue stared at her for an extra beat. Then looked away. “I would’ve been fine.”