Chapter 3Hazel
Chapter 3
Hazel
Sunblock. Check .
Floppy black sun hat. Check .
Newly purchased paperback book. Check .
The only thing my poolside lounge session is missing is a friend.
I’ve bugged Alexis enough today, but I can’t help it. I have to text her and let her know that, yes, the fruity cocktail drinks do come with tiny umbrellas.
I attach a photo to prove my point and then scroll through my social media accounts as I await her response.
Now that I’m thirty, so many of my friends are posting baby pictures or smiling-hubby shots. Or—the worst for my sometimes too-fragile ego—the dreaded whole family photos: Mom, dad, two-point-five kids, white picket fence… goofy dog included, rolling in the grass in the foreground.
I don’t have any of that.
A deep-seated loneliness threatens to pull me under after a few minutes of scrolling. So, I decide to fight back: I snap a photo of my legs, knees propped up slightly, maroon-painted toes visible in front of the sparkling blue pool water.
I make sure to get the fruity cocktail in the shot.
After cropping it and editing it to make the colors pop, I craft a line of text. It’s a little vague, a little mysterious: ‘Day one in paradise.’ The sun emoji makes the whole thing look extra cheerful. Extra happy.
That’s not how I feel, but maybe if I pretend to feel that way, it’ll somehow translate over.
Out of habit, I go back to scrolling. In the back of my mind, I’m just waiting to see who will like my post first.
An old friend from high school gives me a thumbs up, and I find myself diving down a rabbit hole of her life. Her daughter is getting so big… she looks adorable in her little tutu at a local talent show.
I gaze at a photo of my friend and her beaming, chubby-cheeked daughter with an unsettling feeling of unmet desire. Will I ever have that?
I’m thirty. Single. No life partner, backyard, or tiny tutus in sight.
Thankfully, Alexis interrupts my downward spiral.
Alexis : Yay! You made it to the pool. I was seriously concerned you might hole up in your room all afternoon. That drink looks super yummy.
Hazel : I finished the work in a few hours. It’s only three here, so I’m a little early for happy hour… but this magical concoction has actual rum in it.
Alexis : As opposed to what, fake rum?
Hazel : IDK. I just haven’t had a cocktail in like two years. I surprised myself, ordering it.
Alexis: Honey, you need to get out more.
Hazel : *Laughing face* I know. I might be feeling it already. Okay, what do I do about my mom's situation? She texted me a couple more times and wants me to send a photo.
I sip my drink while I wait for Alexis to reply.
Hopefully, the long pause means she’s thinking hard about my mom-problem.
Nope.
When her text comes back, it’s a photo of her daughter’s chin, covered in strawberry jam.
This has happened before. Melody habitually steals her mother’s phone and sends me four-year-old-style texts.
I get crooked selfies, long strings of gibberish, and a mishmash of stickers and emojis. My favorite was a wolf howling at the moon, followed by the cryptic messages: ‘sky high, baby cakes.’
However, it’s now nine at night back home, so I wonder if Melody is pulling some sort of escape artist antics. She should be tucked in bed.
I flip to my stomach and wonder how long it will be before Alexis gets her phone back from Melody. Then again, since Melody’s apparently running around the house with a face full of jam, their bedtime routine has clearly gone awry. I might not hear from my friend again until tomorrow.
That leaves my mom-problem up to me.
I swipe over to my message thread with my mom. Worry curls my gut as I scan the last few messages. It sounds like she’s having a tough day back home.
Dad’s gone this weekend at one of his dentistry conferences in Boston. Since the weather’s been frigid and the sidewalks are icy, Mom couldn’t get out for her usual walk. To top it all off, her back was acting up.
Mom: I’m just so happy you’re there, having such a good time. At least one of us is getting some sunshine.
Sounds cheerful enough, but I feel the sadness behind her statement.
Mom: I’d just love to see a photo of you and Matt, sweetie. You can’t imagine how much it would cheer me up.
I groan aloud and nip the inside of my cheek. Of course, she wants a photo of me and Matt Monroe. We trade photos every day. I should have known she’d ask for this.
Okay, think, Hazel. Think.
I could Photoshop an image. A shot of me and some random photo of a guy mashed together digitally. That’s a thing, isn’t it?
I work with words, not images. I have a feeling if I try my hand at doctoring up an image digitally, it will come out looking like a cut-and-paste collage straight out of a kindergarten classroom.
I could hire someone else to make the image for me.
Hm.
I flip over and adjust the lounge chair so I’m half-sitting. This position is better for sipping my cocktail, which is already surprisingly depleted. The fruity flavors and melty ice cubes make it way too easy to drain the last of the drink.
Outsourcing my mom-problem actually isn’t a bad idea. But Photoshopped images aren’t going to cut it. I need actual photos of me and a guy here at the Hanu Bay Resort. That’s what my mom wants. That’s what will cheer her up.
Within a few minutes, I’ve pulled up Honolulu’s Craigslist page. I type up my request quickly, so I don’t have time to talk myself out of it.
The rum-buzz that has blossomed in my head helps with the no-overthinking thing.
The fact that sunlight warms my entire body also helps, and I’m finally starting to feel relaxed, not stressed.
It’s nice to have that tightness in my shoulders melt, even just a little.
When the entire ad is done, I hit ‘Post.’ Then, I read the paragraph of text to myself to make sure I didn’t make any typos.
Well done, Hazel. Not one blooper.
The ad sounds perfect. Brilliant.
This is so going to work.
Everything is fine.
Better than fine…
Great.
I feel really great. Sleepy, too…
I rest my head against the padded lounge chair, then pull my hat’s brim down low over my eyes.
The screen of black straw makes me immediately sleepy. With the fuzzy buzz of rum in my head and warm sunlight bathing my entire body, I listen to the lullaby of waves in the distance.
Right now, all I have to do is sit back, wait, and see what happens.