Chapter 34 – “warm glow” - Hippo Campus #2
“Yep,” I reply, putting the air pump back in the wagon after I finish inflating the second pool.
“And…?” Dahlia asks.
“Yes,” I respond, understanding exactly what she’s asking.
“His tongue is pierced too,” Darby adds.
I grin, dropping a pile of blankets into the second pool. “It very much is.”
Both of their brows shoot up, and they toss each other contemplative looks before going back to setting things up.
A few minutes later, the two pink pools sit side-by-side, filled with blankets and pillows. A cooler sits between them that has water, soda, and snacks.
“We used to do wine, but obviously…” Dahlia motions to Darby, who sits beside her in one pool, while I get comfortable in the other. “Plus, you haven’t been drinking, right?”
“Nope. Not since January,” I say. It’s not something I’ve brought up on my own before, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they know.
I’m sure that my drinking was of major concern to my brothers, and I can’t be upset that they needed to talk about it with their significant others.
“I don’t know that I’d call myself an alcoholic or anything…
I don’t think? It’s odd. I never felt like drinking was a problem in my teens or early twenties.
It was always social, never an emotional crutch.
I don’t know when that changed, or what label it puts on me now, but…
I just feel better without it. I don’t think a glass of wine is going to make me spiral, but I suppose I just don’t see the point anymore. ”
“I think that’s great,” Darby says. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. People choose to stop drinking alcohol for a slew of reasons, and all of them are valid.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
A moment later, the heavy pounding of rapid footsteps sounds from behind us, and I turn around to see Lou barreling through the sand in our direction.
She’s still wearing her soccer uniform, sans shin pads and shoes, with my mom trailing behind her.
Two pigtail braids bounce at her shoulders as she runs, stopping in front of her mom and aunt.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly, bending down to hug Dahlia before placing a hand on Darby’s stomach. “Hi to you too, baby.”
“Hi, bug. How was practi—”
“Elena, I’m so glad you’re here.” Lou cuts off her mom as she beelines to the pool I’m in.
“You are?” I ask.
She nods rapidly. “I finished The Lightning Thief.”
“Oh?” I laugh. “How did you like it?”
“I brought it with me. It’s in the car. Can I sit in your pool with you so we can talk about it? I need to talk about it.”
I glance at Dahlia, whose brows are raised, a radiant smile on her cheeks as she watches us.
“Of course.” I move to the side, creating room for her as my mom reaches us. “Ciao, Mama,” I say, glancing up to smile at her.
“Hi, baby!” she chimes.
“Thanks for grabbing her on your way,” Dahlia says.
“Of course, my love.” My mom gets into the pool on my other side, sealing me between her and Lou. Lou goes on animatedly about her experience reading the first book in the Percy Jackson series and how much she loved it as the sun begins to set over the Pacific.
“Do you think you’ll ever write a book again?” Lou asks, basically panting after the rapid speech she just finished.
“Actually, I just finished one.”
“Really?” Dahlia, Darby, and my mother all ask excitedly.
A burst of laughter leaves my lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to anyone besides August about my writing, and I forgot the giddy way it feels to talk about your books with others. Especially those who read and love them, which I know Darby does.
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s very different from what I’ve done before. I’m finishing up some self-edits before I send it off to the freelance editor I used to work with years ago. After that, I think I’m going to begin querying agents again.”
“No plans to self-publish?” Darby asks.
I shrug. “Maybe. Right now I’m not in any kind of rush. I think I’m just beginning to feel ready to dip my toes back into the industry. Maybe even activate my social media accounts again and begin interacting with readers, promoting my old work.”
My mom squeezes my thigh, and when I turn my head to her, tears glisten in her brown eyes. She blinks hard, holding them back. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, pressing her lips to my temple. “Sapevo che ti saresti ritrovato. Bentornato.”
I swallow hard, choking on my own emotion. “Grazie, Mama. Ti amo.”
“In the meantime, do you plan on staying at The Wicked Wildflower?” Darby asks.
“No pressure or anything, but please say yes,” Dahlia adds.
I laugh. “Yeah. I mean…I think my ultimate dream would be to run, or even own, a bookstore. I feel most myself when I’m reading, or writing, or talking about books.
I’ve learned the hard way that writing can be a fleeting experience.
It’s something that can be gained and lost, and when you lose it, it’s real fucking hard to keep yourself afloat if it’s all you have to rely on.
I think if I would’ve felt less pressure to be a writer…
maybe I wouldn’t have been lost for so long.
” I sigh before smiling at Dahlia. “But the coffee shop is a great Plan B.”
“You know…we have a whole empty suite right next to The Wicked Wildflower.” Darby raises a pensive brow. “I have an in with the owner, might be able to get you a deal.”
“Oh, my God. A bookstore. Yes!” Lou squeals.
“A bookstore on the pier probably wouldn’t make much money,” I say.
“Who cares?” she scoffs, leaning back against the edge of the pool and tilting her head toward the sky, closing her eyes. “The building is just sitting there collecting dust right now anyway.”
“Yeah, but it would cost a ton to run it.”
“Eh.” Darby flutters a hand, dismissing my concern. “I’ll be your investor. My husband is rich.”
“You could make it a romance-only bookstore and call it Just The Tip,” Dahlia muses before her eyes go wide, and she sits up straighter. “No! Between The Folds.”
“Lord,” my mom mutters under her breath.
“What does that mean?” Lou asks.
“Nothing,” the rest of us chime in unison.
Darby giggles. “You could call it Vise Grip.”
I cackle at that before it dawns on me. “No.” I smile. “I’d call it Sugar and Vice. It’s all romance, with a range from sickly sweet rom-coms to delicious dark romance to enticing erotica.”
“Oh, that’s fucking good. All that alliteration? That’s a tagline right there.” Dahlia nods. “You should have the shelves categorized by extreme niches, though. Instead of genres. Like a When She Calls Him Good Boy section, or Secret Tattoo, or Public Indecency.”
“Mom, please stop,” Lou mutters, causing us all to laugh.
We volley a few more names back and forth before the conversation merges into different topics.
Darby’s due date, her birth plan, and how excited she is to finally have her baby girl.
We talk about Dahlia, Lou, and Everett’s summer trip that he finally surprised her with a few weeks ago, and I make tremendous effort to bite back the giggle I want to let out as I think about Everett’s plan to propose over the summer.
I didn’t realize it until just now, but this is the first time I’ve stepped on the beach since moving home from New York a year ago. The first time I’ve stepped foot on the beach since before Zach died.
I thought I’d never do so again, or when I did, it’d be painful and sad, but right now, it feels like this moment was the exact reason I waited so long.
So that I could do it with people who would make it feel okay.
I know that guilt and grief will always linger, but as I watch the world cast in shades of blue and gold, and the sea air whips at my face, smelling like home, I realize that there is a life beyond that hurt.
Maybe it is true after all: the presence of pain doesn’t have to equate to the absence of happiness.