FIVE
Lina
Rabbit?
Wand?
Bullet?
None of the above?
All of the above?
I’m at the ‘vibrator(s) or no vibrator’ part of packing, poring through my bedside table collection. Ya girl is horny as hell, and this self-imposedluxury yachtbreak isn’t helping my case.
New and Improved Real Life Lina would bring at least two, I think. So I pack the bullet and… the rabbit, for times of real penetrative desperation.
There’s more than enough room in my suitcase, because New and Improved Real Life Lina decided to only pack ‘chill summer clothes’ that one could theoretically take edibles in—tank tops, shorts, bikinis for the beach. I don’t even pack a bra. These clothes don’t take up much room, which means more room for vibrators. I throw in the wand just because there’s space.
I do one more scan of my toiletries, then zip up the suitcase and lug it to my front door. I turn off and unplug, then head downstairs to make sure my mom is all set for the week.
* * *
“You have enough groceries here for an entire week,” I tell my mother, who has been ignoring me for the last thirty minutes. “Your friends are checking in on you every day. I asked them to text me updates. I got you three new Sudoku books. I scheduled a laundry pick up and drop off for later this week, so you don’t have to worry about doing it while I’m gone. I’m going to text or call you every day.” I turn from the cabinets, where I was putting everything she might need on the bottom two shelves, and I realize I’ve been talking to an empty kitchen. “Mai?”
“Can you go?” Mai huffs from the other room. “Just let me die in peace.”
“I’m doing all this to make sure you won’t die,” I shriek. “Don’t say shit like that!”
“I’m not going to die because you’re gone for a week,mija. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Are you all packed? Do you have a bathing suit? Oh,” she continues, “I got you this hair mask from the store. It has avocadoandavocado oil.” She hobbles back into the kitchen and hands me a small plastic tub. “Bring it to the beach. It’ll be good for your hair.”
My phone dings, and I tuck the tub under my arm while checking my phone. “Shit, they’re here.” I take Mai’s face in my hands and kiss both of her cheeks. “Please always have your phone on you. In case you fall or something. Don’t ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up’ me. Please. I love you.”
“Have fun,” she tells me firmly. “Relax. Take time for yourself. Promise me,mija.” I wave her away, and I grab my suitcase from where it stands next to her front door.
“Love you!” I yell again, and I walk out the door to where Oliver and Georgia are double parked in a tiny blue rental car. I turn back, but my mom has already forgotten about me and is nowhere to be seen. I sigh and knock on the truck of the car. Oliver pops it open, and I heave my suitcase and hair mask tub inside on top of theirs.
I get in the car.
“Road trip,” Georgia screams.
“Hey, friends,” I say, climbing into the minuscule back seat.
My phone dings again, this particular alert indicating a work email.
“Turn your work email off,” Oliver and Georgia say simultaneously.
I silence my phone instead, because I will be responding once we get to the house.
* * *
“Nofuckingway,” I breathe, once we drive up the winding, neatly paved driveway. The ‘house’ slowly comes into view, andfuck me. This is not a beach house. It’s more of a grand coastal manor, perched gracefully against the backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. The only thing that makes it skew ‘beach house’ is how perfectly it blends with its natural surroundings, the soft gray exterior and massive windows reflecting the muted tones of the sand and sea behind it.
“Holy Generational Wealth, right?” Oliver laughs, disbelievingly, even if he’s apparently been here almost every summer since his childhood.
“Is this a white people thing?” I ask the car nonsensically. “Do all white people have an old money relative? Is this normal?”
“Hellno,” Georgia answers.
