[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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It felt weird to say, but I was almost a senior in college.
I'd dug up my mother's journal from my desk drawer when I'd first woken up, wanting to reread the entry from her equivalent of this week—a gleeful trip down memory lane sprinkled with all she had to look forward to. I scoffed, knowing nothing in my life warranted an animated countdown, and what remained in the past was a place of no return, rife with thorns, traps, and phantom hands eager to drag me to the depths of my mind and all the deleterious thoughts dwelling therein.
Jesse and I were still on our "break." It felt like a silly term to use, as a break implied some sense of the finite. What we were taking a break from had to continue or had to end, and it was all in my power to decide which path this semblance of a relationship would take.
Colin hadn't spoken to me since his college graduation. I had never doubted he was a man of his word, but when he'd told me he'd never remember that moment, that slip-up—that kiss—if I would go back to Jesse, I hadn't been sure how to interpret the word "remember."
To Colin, it meant pretending like I had never existed. No phone calls, no late-night texts, no early-morning talks in nature, or evening drinking sessions indoors. He had a job at a cybersecurity start-up in Cambridge, an apartment for himself, and for all I knew—and as unrealistic as it was with only three months of distance—a brand-new girlfriend.
After a year of moping, my bitterness had left my heart and practically seeped through my skin. No amount of luxury eye creams or swipes of Dior mascara could take away the fatigue overshadowing my brown eyes. They had always been a boring color, blending into even duller hair, now falling halfway down my back after delaying my hair appointment four times over the past year. The definition in my calves and quad muscles from my lifeguard days had long faded, as had the semblance of abs I'd been close to achieving before all hell had broken loose. I was sure my legs were now a milky white after being hidden under jeans and flowy pants since the warm weather had rolled in, all to suppress my athlete's guilt.
Out of sight, out of mind, I'd convince myself, while knowing my father was forever out of sight but always on my mind.
Especially on a day like today.
"Do you want me to make you breakfast? An omelette? Or maybe"—my mother paused to gauge how much milk was left in the half-gallon deep inside the fridge—"my epic waffles?"
"Oatmeal is fine," I answered her, fishing out a microwavable packet from her immaculate pantry. The layout of the shelves reminded me of a grocery store early in the morning. "Really, Mama, you don't have to worry about me."
"I'll always worry about you," she murmured, pulling me into a hug from behind. She rested her chin on the top of my head, hands sliding down the lengths of my arms. "You've been awfully quiet today, Han."
I looked up at her through mascara-coated lashes. "I've only been awake for an hour."
She spun me around and pulled me into her chest, burying my face into her loose shirt. Maybe we were still playing catch-up, but I always noticed the cocooning nature of her embraces, like I was a child, and she was trying to shield me from the big, scary world.
