Chapter 15 #2
Athena couldn’t help laughing at the woman’s deadpan delivery, the sound coming out somewhere between amusement and despair. “So . . . um . . . what are you saying? I just need to make a memory salad and pick out the bad bits?”
“Something like that.” Dot’s eyes twinkled. “It’s never too late to start tending to your garden of memories, to nurture what’s good and weed out what’s not. Think of it as extreme mental landscaping.”
The metaphor was about as subtle as a neon exit sign in a dark theater, but Athena considered it.
Could it really be that simple? Just . . . choose which memories to keep? It sounded like something out of a cheesy self-help book. 7 Habits of Highly Effective Emotional Gardeners or The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up Your Trauma.
“But how do I even begin?” Athena asked, feeling a tiny spark of hope for the first time since Calista brought up Benjamin’s wager against her at Chevron.
It was small, a faint flicker, but it was there, like the little engine that could.
“How do I move on from all this pain? Is there a ‘Get Over Your Dad Being a Jerk’ for Dummies book I missed?”
Dot smiled gently. “You start by letting go of what harms you. Sometimes that means distancing yourself from those who’ve hurt you, even if they’re blood, and sometimes, it means forgiving yourself for not seeing the truth sooner.
It’s like cleaning out your closet. You might love that sparkly Stars and Stripes halter top from college, but if it doesn’t fit anymore and makes you feel bad, it’s time to let it go. ”
Forgive herself? Athena hadn’t even considered that. She’d been so focused on her anger, at the unfairness of it all, that she hadn’t stopped to think about her role in perpetuating the lies. She’d been wearing designer blinders, custom-made to match her golf outfits.
“I don’t know if I can,” she said, her voice small. “Forgiving myself seems about as likely as me developing a passion for underwater basket weaving.”
“Of course you can,” Dot said with such conviction that Athena almost believed her. “You’re stronger than you know, dear. You just need to give yourself the chance to prove it. And hey, don’t knock underwater basket weaving until you’ve tried it. It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”
Athena sipped her tea, surprised by its complex flavor (it tasted like a breezy summer day and a cozy flannel blanket got married in her mouth, with notes of sunshine and maybe a hint of fairy dust), much tastier than she expected.
Dot leaned forward, her eyes glowing in the light. “Now then, would you like me to read your tea leaves? Sometimes the leaves have a way of showing us what we need to see. Like a Magic 8 Ball, but with more antioxidants.”
Athena raised an eyebrow. “Tea leaf reading? Really? What’s next, tarot cards? Crystal balls? A Ouija board to ask my mother for advice?”
Dot shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “This is Hobby Island, dear. We specialize in the whimsical and unexpected. Besides, what have you got to lose? Other than your skepticism and last shred of sanity.”
Put that way, Athena couldn’t argue. Her sanity had already packed its bags and left a Gone Fishing sign, anyway. She finished the tea and handed over the cup. Dot peered into it with the concentration of a bomb disposal expert defusing a tricky explosive.
“Hmm.” Dot turned the cup this way and that as she stared into the leaves.
“What does that mean?” Athena clutched the arms of her chair and leaned in.
“Interesting. Remarkably interesting indeed. Either you’re about to embark on a journey of self-discovery, or you’re going to be attacked by a flock of angry seagulls. Tea leaves can be vague sometimes.”
“Huh? What do you see? And please tell me it’s the self-discovery thing. I don’t think my insurance covers seagull attacks.”
Dot looked up, her eyes going serious. “I see a path leading away from darkness and into light. It’s a complicated path—there are obstacles and challenges along the way, but at the end, there’s a brightness that outshines everything else.
Oh, and there’s something that looks like a golf club.
Or perhaps a snake. Hard to tell with these things. ”
Before Athena could respond with another sarcastic quip (she had several lined up), a soft chime rang out, sounding like wind through crystal. Or the timer on an extrafancy oven finished baking an enlightenment soufflé.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Dot said. “Cart’s ready. Unless the local squirrels have staged another protest against electric vehicles; they’re very environmentally conscious, you know, and believe everyone should walk or use bicycles.”
“Um, okay.”
They stepped outside, the late-afternoon sun painting everything in soft golden hues that made the world look honey dipped. Dot unplugged the cart, and Athena found herself reluctant to leave. For all its strangeness, the apothecary felt like a haven, a bubble of whimsy in a sea of harsh reality.
“Remember, Athena,” Dot said, handing her a small pouch of tea leaves that sparkled purple in the sunlight.
“You’re not alone. You have people who care about you and want to help you find your way.
Don’t be afraid to lean on them, and if all else fails, you can always take up an obscure hobby. Origami is quite soothing.”
Athena clutched the pouch, feeling the weight of the leaves and Dot’s words. “Thank you. I feel like I should pay you or something. Do you take credit cards? Or maybe just my firstborn child?”
Dot waved her hand. “Oh, pish posh. Consider it a free sample of joy. Just promise me you’ll water your garden. Speaking in metaphors, that is. Unless you actually decide to take up gardening, in which case, literal watering is also important.”
Athena climbed into the golf cart.
“Oh, and Athena? Don’t forget to enjoy the journey. Life’s too short for boring self-discovery montages!” Laughing, Dot waved goodbye.
The drive back to the Lavender Lark felt like a fever dream—surreal, slightly nauseating, but with the vague promise of clarity once it was over.
Athena’s mind raced, replaying her conversation with Dot, trying to make sense of the swirling emotions inside her.
The island seemed different now, as if her shifting perspective had altered the very landscape around her.
Was that topiary always shaped like a life-size chess piece, or was her brain just playing tricks on her?
Parking the golf cart, Athena took a deep breath before heading inside.
She caught sight of her reflection in the golf cart’s side mirror.
She looked different, somehow. Older, maybe.
Or just . . . altered. The woman staring back at her wasn’t the polished golf pro she’d been just days ago.
This woman had cracks in her facade, but there was something else there too.
A flicker of something that might have been hope or just glitter from Dot’s tea making its way through her system.
The Lavender Lark was quiet, the guests out enjoying the island’s attractions, unaware and uncaring of her world-tilting revelations. She felt alone.
She spoke to Luna, asking if she’d seen Calista. She couldn’t wait to tell her sister about meeting with Dot and her ensuing epiphany, but Luna said Calista had yet to return.
In her room, Athena paced. She’d made dozens of calls to her father over the years—updates on tournaments, strategy sessions, postgame analyses, but this .
. . this was different. This call? The most crucial of her life.
She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing she must jump but unsure if her parachute would open.
Inspired, she dug in her purse for the salve Dot had given her the previous night, uncapped the tin, applied some Empowerment Salve on her wrists, and chanted Dot’s mantra.
Then, before she could talk sense into herself, she picked up the landline receiver and dialed her tour manager.