Prologue
The pool lies under the velvet cloak of the desert night, its pink and navy tiles glinting faintly in the dim light of the stars. A relic of 1920s Palm Springs decadence, it stretches out in perfect symmetry, its edges softened by the warm hues of stucco walls and the silhouetted palms swaying gently above. The air is still, heavy with the faint, sweet scent of jasmine, and the only sound is the whisper of the breeze threading through the trees.
A mosaic on the bottom of the pool spells outDesert Sunrisein elegant, looping letters, distorted by the rippling interplay of underwater lights. The letters shimmer like a mirage, illuminated by the pool lights, their glow a cold, artificial radiance. Suspended below the surface is a figure, a slender form outlined in pale light. Long strands of her hair fan out like seaweed, drifting lazily in the water, a grotesque echo of a mermaid at rest.Her face is obscured, tilted, but the stillness of her body, the unnatural angle of her limbs, leaves no doubt.
The water is calm, betraying no trace of struggle. It cradles her in its silence, as though the pool itself conspires to keep her secret. Above, the palm fronds whisper their indifferent song, shadows playing along the pink and navy tiles, the grandeur of another era now a backdrop for something chillingly timeless.
As the scene widens, a figure stands at the edge of the tiled deck, shrouded in darkness, outside the reach of the dim light. It’s obvious their gaze is fixed on the pool, unmoving, as if mesmerized by the still, spectral presence below the surface. As the breeze quickens and the palm trees sway in concert with some unseen rhythm, the figure melts into the shadows, leaving the pool to its haunted stillness, the wordsDesert Sunriseshimmering mockingly beneath the dead.
Mr. and Mrs. Ryan Gentry Cordially invite you to
A Weekend Engagement Party & Sorority Reunion
celebrating their son,
Mr. Zachary Gentry
Upon his engagement to
Ms. Celeste Harris
At our dream desert home Palm Springs, California
Accommodations and all food and drink provided by your hosts
Please confirm your attendance by returning the enclosed RSVP card
1
Beth
I’m driving my vintage Mustang, candy-apple-red with a white interior, watching the desert flying by on a gloriously sunny day. I crank up my favorite ‘80s radio station as “Tainted Love” comes on the radio, and my daughter and I burst into song.
“I can’t believe you know this song from my college days,” I say, smiling at Celeste, whose feet are up on the dashboard as she pops a red Twizzlers into her mouth.
“Your songs are our songs now,” she says. “You know, you look almost the same as you did in college, Mom. I hope I get that lucky.”
“Um, thank you,” I say, glancing at myself in the rearview mirror. “But I think you need glasses.” I see laugh lines next to my eyes and a worry wrinkle between them. My dirty-blond hair is natural, so I guess I’m lucky. I don’t have the time, or the inclination, to do anything about the passage of time, whichmakes me an outlier in Orange County, California. I guess I’m happy with myself and my life. Although I do miss my daughter terribly.
“Want one?” Celeste asks, offering me a Twizzlers from a bag she’s pulled out of her purse. Our shared cheat treats.
I grab one of the floppy red licorice sticks and take a bite, grinning at Celeste. I miss her; I miss together time. She’s in her second year of law school at Northwestern in Chicago, and it has been hard to let her go, even as I watch her thrive. The curse of a close relationship, I suppose. I take a deep breath and remind myself to enjoy these moments with her, as they are too few and far between these days. My identity for so long was that of a single mom. Now, I’m single, period. Except my cat.
“I hope I left enough cat food out,” I say, thinking of Peanut, my fluffy white constant companion.
“You did, Mom; you know you did,” Celeste says, her long blond hair glowing in the sunshine. She is effortlessly beautiful. Looking at her makes me think of my best friend in college, Sunny. The resemblance is uncanny, and I smile at the memory and my daughter.
“You’re right. Peanut is fine. And I have my next-door neighbor checking on her too,” I say, reassuring myself. I think of my cozy bungalow in Huntington Beach and wish I could turn the car around and drive us both back home.
“Mom, I think that’s our exit,” Celeste says, pointing. She’s excited to get there. Me, not so much.
Maybe I was trying to drive past the exit on purpose.Savoring these last few minutes with Celeste. Alone. We won’t have many more moments like this, ever. How did my baby girl grow up so fast?
“Oh, thanks,” I say, reluctantly pulling down my turn indicator. I make it over two lanes, and just like that, we’re exiting the freeway.
I take another look at my strikingly beautiful daughter, remembering her childhood. It was the two of us while she was growing up, and sometimes it was a struggle, but most of the time, it was happy. We were a team, side by side, like this. But then I remember why we’re driving to Palm Springs, and my chest squeezes with sadness. Everything has changed now.
“I still cannot believe you’re engaged,” I say, shaking my head. “Of course, I’m happy for you. It’s only, well, life happens fast.” I think that’s true for everyone and truer the older you get.
