My mother was beautiful in an ageless, eerie way. Her work was her face, her figure, but it was also her faith. There was relevance in that plumped-up perfection. There wasvalue. In her world, the only women worth keeping around were the ones who'd figured out how to stop time. Their virtue lived in that plastic youth, and they were nothing without it.
Sometimes I wondered when she'd stopped being a real person. I knew it came before the fillers and the surgeries and the every-four-weeks root touch-ups to keep the silver out of her cornsilk blonde. Her ability to wield power in this world existed only in relation to her willingness to uphold its pointless beauty standards. It was like she'd stepped into a small square of wet concrete and she had to live out the rest of her days there—or cut off her own feet to get free.
"My goodness, Brecken," she said. "I just don't know where that daughter of mine ran off to if she's not over here."
"Not to worry." He said this with the easy grace of someone who understood the level of bullshitting required at these affairs. That helped. This wouldn't work if I had a short fuse on my hands. "She'll turn up."
"I appreciate your patience with this expedition I've taken you on," she said.
"No patience required," he said, which I interpreted to meanI've done my community service for the day and now I'm breaking free from your clutches, lady.
I crouched down to stay out of their eyeline but as I moved, a branch shifted, whipping the side of my face. I had to swallow a yelp unless I wanted them to notice my hiding spot. I'd survived many unpleasant things but getting caught in a hydrangea bush and then having to fight my way out while people watched would make for a new all-time low.
I held my breath as they strolled back to the heart of the party. Once she dropped off Seersucker, my mother would come looking for me. She'd quietly enlist everyone in the search—waiters, bartenders, the young men tasked with parking the cars far enough away to give the impression that everyone teleported here.
All of which was to say I couldn't stay in the bushes all day. Either I dashed back inside, grabbed my things, and made a break for the ferry or I dredged up the ability to interact with other people. To do what I came here to do. There was no in between.
I gave myself a few more minutes behind the hydrangea to check my messages. Nothing from Jude though I did find a bitchy notification that I was consuming significantly more screen time than usual this week. I read a new chapter of a fanfic I followed and looped back to Janet and Rita's socials (also nothing), and then checked the departure times for the ferry. Just to be sure.
I discovered it'd been easier getting into the bushes than it was getting out. My arms were scratched and my hair was full of leaves and floral debris but not in any whimsical bohemian way.
I shook the dirt from my sundress and hiked through the front yard and into the house. If I ran into my mother, I'd blame my absence on my belly. She hated being reminded that my gut had a lot in common with sweating dynamite. Nice, marriageable women didn't havethoseproblems.
I was waiting at the bar, sunglasses shielding my eyes as I grinned up at the late afternoon sun, the picture of summertime bliss, when I felt someone sidle up beside me.
"Audrey, isn't it?"
I kept my chin tipped to the sky, taking in Seersucker from the corner of my eye. Up close, I placed him around a decade older than me, maybe more, though the wonders of fillers and Botox and money made a plausible case for mid-thirties.
"It is." I gave him my breeziest smile, the one that dug lines into my cheeks. "You'll have to remind me where we've met. My memory isn't with me today."
"Apologies," he said with a light laugh. He held out his hand. "Brecken. Wilhamsen. We'd meant to connect at the Aldyn Thorpe reunion weekend."
I treated him to all the standard apologies and pleasantries as I sipped my drink, and he did a fine job of acting as if he understood. It was all very civilized and that was the real irony of my parents' events.
"If I'm being honest," he said, edging in close like we were already coconspirators, "I didn't really want to be there. You did me a big favor by canceling." He shot a glance at the bow-tied staff standing watch around the clambake pit. "I'm not completely sure I want to be here now."
That earned a real laugh from me. I reeled him in with a stiff grin that saidyou and me both, friend.
"Could I interest you in a walk?" he asked. "And before you answer, I'm going to blackmail you a little by saying I saw you in the hydrangeas."
I jerked back, startled. "You realize it's not a game if you show all of your cards at the start, right?"
He shrugged, his pristine polo shirt stretching across his narrow shoulders with the movement. "It's still a game. But now everyone knows the stakes."
"Going right for the jugular, are we?"
He cringed all the way down to his toes, which I appreciated. A man who could be shamed had a lot going for him. "I don't know why I said that. I didn't mean blackmail. Not really. It was a bad joke. I'm very bad at jokes. I just meant— Well. I thought you'd want to get out of here for a little while. Because I do." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, toward the path to the beach at his back. "I can promise I won't attempt any more jokes."
I found myself smiling at him, and for the first time in days, it wasn't forced. "No extortion whatsoever?"
He put a hand over his heart. "None."
I studied him, taking in the simple but ultra-expensive, hand-crafted loafers, the silver peppered through his hair, the mobile phone peeking out of his pocket. He was on the shorter side, coming in around five-eight. I had a good two or three inches on him. He was slim but nothing about him read as athletic or a gym rat. Handsome in a non-specific, unremarkable sense. He was a money guy because everyone here was a money guy one way or another, but he wasn't lighting up my toxicity meter.
I didn't know if it was the introverted confessions or the self-deprecating humor but it was easy to say, "Yeah. A walk would be nice."
He handed his glass to the bartender. "Might as well get this topped off before we go."
