“Most of the people who were there that spring break are here, at Gentry House, except for Greer and Brett,” I say. I sweep my hand. “This room isn’t like our hotel rooms back then, of course. It’s much nicer, but it feels similar to the Desert Sunrise, where we stayed. The art deco lines coupled with the Spanish textures, it’s an overwhelming feeling with every step on the Spanish tile floor.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” she says.
Should I tell her the air seems charged with unspoken tension? It has since I arrived. I don’t want to upset her further. Besides, Celeste’s attempt to help me through it is making it worse. And despite Ryan’s pricy renovation of this place, I can’t shake the ghostly connection to the past. I feel trapped in acomplex intersection of conflicting emotions—a place that is both familiar and foreign, comforting and distressing.
I look into Celeste’s kind blue eyes and take a deep breath. “Nobody saw Sunny at all the last night of spring break,” I say. “She’d told Roxy and Amelia before dinner that she was too tired to party that night and that she was going to go to sleep early.”
“OK,” Celeste says. “Was Sunny like that, responsible? I mean, most college seniors keep partying no matter how tired they are, and it was the last night of your trip.”
“I know, but she made that choice. Very responsible. She knew how to have fun, too, but she was, yes, responsible. She wouldn’t want any of us to take care of her or change her plans; she’d want us to enjoy our last night,” I say. “So we all thought she was asleep. But at some point in the middle of the night, she must have left her hotel room and gone outside. Maybe she was hungry or thirsty; we don’t know.”
I sigh and take a deep breath.
“It’s OK, Mom, if you don’t want to tell me anything more tonight,” Celeste says, wrapping her arm around me.
But now that I’ve started, it’s like I can’t stop. “Somehow, Sunny ended up walking out near the pool. All our rooms opened out onto it, like here,” I say. “Except here, the bedrooms are on the second floor; at least mine is. But at the Desert Sunrise, we were all on the first floor with easy pool access. She must have slipped and fallen in.”
“Oh my gosh,” Celeste says. “No wonder you’re so tense and anxious today. This place must be so triggering.”
All I can do is nod. “The hotel staff found her face down in the pool the next morning, with a big gash on the side of her head.” I take a deep, ragged breath. “The coroner told us she must have hit her head when she slipped and knocked herself unconscious. They think she drowned without ever waking up.”
“Poor Sunny. That is so horrible,” Celeste says. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“I’m the sorry one. I’ve always blamed myself for not checking on Sunny after dinner that night. It would have been easy for me to go check on her, bring her dinner so she would have something to eat before we all went out for the night. Maybe she was hungry, looking for food when she fell,” I say. I know the guilt will never end.
“Mom, that’s not your fault. You were having fun; you all were,” Celeste says. “No one could have known this accident would happen.”
“I don’t know if fun is even the word for it. After dinner, Amelia insisted on dragging Jamie and me to the casino nearby to hang out with some cute guys she’d met earlier that day. Amelia was the consummate flirt. She and Roxy had a competition of sorts back in the day,” I say. “And of course, as soon as we got there, she ditched us, snuck off with one of the guys while the others were buying us drinks. She’s a piece of work, that one. Always has been.”
“I can tell,” Celeste says, clearly unimpressed with Amelia after her little toast at dinner.
“You have to take everything she says with a grain of salt, orignore it, please. As they say, you never can trust a politician. I think it must apply to the spouses too. She must be a natural in DC,” I say. “But that night, I agreed to go along with her plan. I’ll always wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom, what happened to Sunny. You were young, it was spring break, you’re supposed to be out, flirting with guys,” Celeste says. “You were doing what everybody does on spring break senior year in college. Nothing is your fault.”
I look at my beautiful daughter and manage a smile.
“Thank you for saying that, honey,” I say.
“Thank you for telling me everything finally,” Celeste says. She stands and stretches. “I do think it’s past my bedtime. Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes, sure, and it is late. You need your beauty sleep,” I say. I want to ask her how she and Zach are doing but decide to wait until tomorrow. I’ll be watching them in action.
“Unless you want to tell me anything else. You know I’m always here for you,” she says.
“Likewise, for you,” I say and stand to give her a hug. “You know everything now. I love you.”
She nods and walks toward the door. “Good night, Mom. See you in the morning.”
I take a deep breath and close and lock the door behind her, dropping my head. The fact is I lied to my daughter. She doesn’t need to know about the one-night stand that followed the evening at the casino, that last night of spring break. There are some things a daughter doesn’t need to know about her mother.
I walk into the bathroom and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I cannot escape myself, or the guilt from that night. Because while I was enjoying a spring break hookup, my best friend was drowning, all alone.
17
Amelia
The air is hot and tropical already this morning as Brett and I walk hand in hand through the landscaped grounds and past the pool to the main house, where everyone else is staying. We’re the outcasts, and I like it that way.
