Page 82 of Girls Will Be Girls
Hello both. Carol says it’s fine for either of you to come to Christmas this year, but we’ll need a solid answer soon as she already has a full house so we’ll need to figure out further seating for you.
My mother always makes me feel so welcome in her life… But I guess it’s better than my dad, who I’m lucky to get one text or phone call from in a year. Our record of no contact was about two and a half years, which happened the year after I stopped reaching out. I always felt guilty that we didn’t have a better relationship, and annoyed that I seemed to be the onlyone trying to have some semblance of one, so once I stopped reaching out, he seemed to forget about me for a while there.
At least my mom has never forgotten about me.
I feel like when I was younger, we used to have a normal mother-daughter relationship. She wasn’t as strict or withholding; she was just a normal mom. But then, when Dad did what he did and left, she changed. She was no longer herself. No longer interested in me or my brother, or having a relationship with us.
My dad escaped, looking for something better, and it’s like my mom got stuck with the rejects.
It bugs me that I don’t have a better relationship with either of them, but at this point, it seems better for me not to. They usually never bring anything but negative emotions into my life, and no matter how hard I try to please them, it never changes the outcome.
Even if our contact is stunted and filled with upset on my end, I prefer that to nothing.
It makes me grateful that I planned such a good activity for today, meaning I can get out of my head, leave my shame spiral, and push it all away enough to forget about it until the next time.
The beautiful weather.
The feedback I got for the article I drafted about pottery.
Boats.
That’s right — boats.
Just like every other millennial, I too was obsessed withThe Lonely Islandin their heyday. This, by proxy, means a healthy obsession with their song about being on a boat, and I would never turn down the opportunity to recreate said masterpiece.
I found a flier at reception the other day for a sailing boat tour where they teach you some basic sailing skills, and you get to snorkel way out in the crystal clear waters. I’ve never sailed before, but I’ve always wanted to be one of those people whoknow what words like port and starboard mean. I also want to take on a slight Joey Tribbiani attitude to the day and sit out there in the sun, sipping on cold drinks, eating sandwiches. It was the‘picnic lunch provided’part of the deal that really sold me.
I strut outside, full of excitement, a skip and a pep in my step.
Just like with pottery, I love it when I manage to pick activities that are less exercise, more experience. I can feel less self-conscious about being new and bad at something when it’s not an everyday activity.
“Hey, baby girl.”I hear being called behind me.
I can’t help my smile when he runs up to reach me, his steps loud on the gravel.
“Hey.” He says again, falling into step with me.
I look up at him, his face all smiley and happy. “Hi.”
When we got back last night, he walked me to my door and gave me another chaste cheek kiss. I fought every urge to invite him inside.
He just scrambles my brain, especially when he’s smiling at me like that.
“Where you off to?” He asks.
“Doing some research today. Heading down to the dock,” I say. “Where are you going dressed so casual?” I gesture at his sneakers, blue athletic shorts, and plain white t-shirt.
“Oh, I can go more casual.” He jokes.
He pulls out a folded dark blue cap from his back pocket that has a logo on the front that looks like a little basketball, pulls his hair back, and puts it on backwards.
Every girl’s kryptonite.
He grins over at me, arms out wide like he’s presenting himself. “Better?”
I consider melting into a puddle right here and letting him scoop me up.
“Very casual.” I nod.
