Maria
I loosened my grip on the steering wheel as we whizzed by hordes of lush green trees on the way to our cabin at Horseshoe Lake in Montana. It shouldn’t be this hard to relax and get into “summer mode.” Every summer prior to this one, I was so filled with excitement that I could barely contain myself on the ride from the airport. But this summer was different, tainted. I was numb from the days and weeks of steeling myself from the disaster that turned my family into fodder for not just the tabloids but every business publication too.
I glanced in the rearview mirror to make sure my dad’s car was still there. He’d insisted on driving separately in case he had to leave early. More like he was preparing for his getaway. I didn’t even know why we bothered with the charade of coming here unless it was just so my parents could escape the humiliation. Especially after what Mom had told me when we landed in the local airport.
“I have to pee,” my twelve-year-old brother Lucas said from the back seat, leaning forward. “How much longer?”
“We’re almost there.” My mom adjusted the ridiculously large sunglasses on her pale face and turned around in the passenger seat to look at him. “You can make it, right, buddy?” Her unfortunate skin shade was not a lack of sun, but more likely from an overabundance of Crown and Coke on the plane, which I noticed kept coming her way in first class.
“I guess. But Maria drives too slow.”
I squinted at him in the mirror. If any of us deserved sympathy, it was poor Lucas, who was old enough to know shit was going down but too young to understand why. “Look, there’s our turn.”
Unconsciously, a smile graced my face when the cabin came into view. I suppose “cabin” was a bit of an exaggeration for one of the biggest and most aesthetically pleasing houses on Horseshoe Lake. But that was what we always called it. That was what everyone called their places on the lake. We were fortunate that ours was one of the few that was still owned by an individual family. Most of the people we knew got bought out by this big real estate management company that was determined to take over the area. My dad said they’d already bought about ninety percent of the properties around the lake to convert to summer rental properties. The reality of that, of the fact that nothing ever seemed to stay the same, hit me hard as I pulled into the driveway. Would our house be next because my family was vulnerable? This “cabin” had been in my mom’s family for generations, rebuilt in the late eighteen hundreds after the first one burned down. There was a framed painting of the first one in the cabin’s living room, and I knew it meant a lot to my mother.
Dad parked his Tesla behind the SUV as the three of us got out. I’d already decided I’d do whatever I could to help my family through this time, so I went over to Dad to start unpacking the luggage. Grabbing two bags, I called to my brother, “Come on, Lucas—”
“You know I have to pee,” he whined.
I had to admit, Lucas was a good kid as far as tweens went, and he begrudgingly jogged over, grabbed a bag, and then took off running for the front door.
Shouldering one bag and grabbing another, I watched my dad check his phone, something he’d been doing incessantly lately. “Hey, Dad?”
It took him a moment, but then he looked up, gave me a tight smile. “Yeah?”
“Maybe we can go fishing later?” I wasn’t even sure I wanted to, but it seemed like a nice gesture and could give us some time alone to talk.
It was almost as if he wasn’t seeing me. He just grunted, grabbed his briefcase and another bag, and mumbled, “We’ll see. I might have to be on a call with my lawyers.”
Those damn lawyers. A boulder landed in my gut as he walked away. Following behind him, I tried to remind myself to be patient and understanding. But I was also scared hearing him talk about lawyers. Lawyers could mean litigation, and litigation could mean… Actually, I really didn’t know specifically, I just knew it could be really bad. I had been away at college, UC Berkeley, so I’d get details sporadically.
Just before we reached the front door, my mother appeared in the doorway, a full glass of wine in her hand. That was fast.
“Martin, the house is a mess. Didn’t you call ahead to let them know we were arriving today?”
I couldn’t see Dad’s face, but his sigh was loud enough, and then he sidled right by her without a word. Well, this summer is going to be freaking fun.
“Dad?” My tone came out scolding, so when he turned, I checked myself and said, “Do you want to finish unloading and I’ll go help Mom clean?”
Dad just shrugged again, and I was starting to feel like the rope in a game of tug-of-war. Was this how the summer was going to go? I didn’t know why I thought things would be different here when this was where we had been heading at home.
Despite the mood stabilizer in her hand, Mom looked irate. “Martin, did you hear me?!” she called at his back, her words slurring.
“It’s okay, Mom. Let me set this stuff down, and I’ll get started on the cleanup.” I moved past her and dropped the bags in the foyer.
Waving her wine glass in the air, she said, “The whole place is dusty. Can you just find a towel or something and wipe down all the surfaces?”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Thank you, baby. You know I have those bad allergies, or I’d do it myself.”
Right. It was easier to just go along with it than to say something, so I headed to the laundry room to grab a couple rags while my mother took her wine glass over to the window.
There was a thin layer of dust all around, but it wasn’t too bad, and the mindless activity after the car ride was sort of a relief. I started with the dining room table, then moved over to the mantel, where we kept a whole row of framed photos along with my grandparents’ anniversary clock.
I dusted the first photo, which was of our family the first year we came here, and my heart warmed seeing baby Lucas in my arms as we sat on the porch. I remembered feeling like such a big girl, even though my parents kind of freaked when he started squirming. Then there was one of my family competing in the Golden Horseshoe Competition they held every summer. Staring at our smiling faces, I wondered if we’d ever be that happy again. I had to keep the faith that we’d pull through this mess.
Moving along, I picked up my favorite photo of us in an old wood frame. It was taken at one of the many bonfires we’d gone to. I was probably around ten or eleven, not a care in the world. Carefully, I placed it next to the clock, and then my hand froze before grasping the next frame—the summer I turned thirteen, not terribly gangly, but not quite filled out either. I was standing next to Jade with those pigtails her mom used to make her wear and Ariana, who was already a tanned and blonde beauty. Ari’s brother, Benji, was clinging to Jade’s arm and sporting braces and a wild mop of dusty brown hair. With the world’s biggest grins, we all looked soaked to our cores, standing in front of the lake, wet T-shirts over our suits. I couldn’t help but smile remembering that moment, how proud we all were, especially since we weren’t even the biggest kids that summer.
Seeing myself so happy, I couldn’t seem to put the photo down, like somehow I could recapture how that little girl felt. But stronger than the warm nostalgia was a sense of sorrow and of loss. I focused in on Ariana and tried to remember the girl I’d grown so close to. She wasn’t always easy to get along with, but I’d always found a way through. This shot was close enough that you could make out the freckles across the bridge of her nose, but by the time she turned sixteen, Ariana started covering them with makeup because she thought they made her look like a baby. She had always been the one trying to grow up faster than the rest of us. It made no sense, because the second we all jumped into the lake, her face was washed clean. A lot of stuff Ari had done made no sense to me, and the longer I looked at her innocent face, the more I remembered who she turned out to be, and suddenly I felt sick to my stomach.
I set the frame back down, and the moment I started to back away, I knew I couldn’t look at the picture all summer, so I grabbed the frame and turned it face down on the mantel. I needed to steer clear of anything negative if I was going to make it through this summer without having a complete meltdown.
Once the downstairs was sufficiently dust-free, I headed for the stairs, assuming my mom expected me to cover the whole house. This was going to take a while. But what else do you have to do? I got one foot on the first step when someone knocked on the front door. Who could that be when nobody even knows we’re here yet?
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