Yours forever,
Scarlet
A thick fog hovers over the hotel carpet. The moment I step down from my bed, the room changes from my hotel suite into Naples’ Waterfront Mall.
I glance to notice that I’m dressed for shopping. In a blink, Violet and Elizabeth appear. We walk towards the food court then select our seats at a nearby table. Without ordering, Starbucks breakfast sandwiches and herbal teas appear. We chat and eat our mysterious food while slowly sipping our hot teas.
Before we’re finished, Violet stands, then removes our food and tea. She telepathically tells us that we’re leaving for the restroom. Like drones, Elizabeth and I stand to follow her. Just like a girl on a diet avoids a bakery, I have always avoided the bathroom Clara left me in. Suddenly, I’m left alone—and now it’s dark.
I hug myself tightly as I witness a single light emit from above the sink in front of me. I’m motionless as I stare at a mirror that’s more like a movie, but not just any movie; this movie is showcasing my childhood.
Amber and Grandma Lucy flash across the mirror. I’m in awe as I observe my childhood movie close in to the moment that forever changed me. The moment that would harden my heart, and make my mind focused on success: the moment Clara abandoned me in this very restroom.
Tears escape my eyes as I witness Clara touch my bathroom stall. Her eyes are filled with tears. A fog appears around me and becomes thicker and thicker, until finally a figure forms.
I’m unsure if the person forming is a stranger or someone I know. Terror overcomes me when I consider the possibility of this all becoming another Kate nightmare. The moment the fog clears, I immediately recognize the person standing before me. It’s Clara. Wrinkles have creased around her eyes, and gray now dominates her hair.
We gawk in awe at first, until Clara attempts to speak, but, without thinking, my hand quickly strikes her face. Our bodies are stiff in an awkward silence as we divert our stares.
“Don’t you speak to me! You worthless parent! How could you? How could you leave me here, in this very restroom?” I bellow in pain with my finger pointing in her face—I stare at her as I wait for a response. Her eyes widen as she touches her face. She attempts to speak, but again I interrupt her.
“You are the worst parent. But you know what? I should thank you for leaving me here, because a wonderful, loving family adopted me. The Belka family has provided emotional support, something you never gave me. They believe in me and love me.” My hands flail in the air, as I bellow in pain—tears soak my face.
After so many years of holding this in, so many years of therapy, so many years of wondering, so many years of emotional pain and confusion: I finally allow my tears to cleanse my emotional scars.
It’s as if mistreating Clara, letting her know what she had done to me, has become my true therapy. I cry until the pain fades. My tears dry, I readjust myself so that I’m hugging my legs, then I place my chin on my knees. At this point, I just want to wake up and have David or Violet, anyone—comfort me. This dream is emotionally draining, but at least I didn’t have Kate killing me.
Clara lowers herself to her knees then she clears her throat to say, “I deserved that, all of it.” She tries to hug me, but I push her away. She stiffens then faces forward to keep a comfortable distance. We sit in an awkward, painful silence. I want to run, to run far and never see her again, but a part of me urges me to stay. I long for her to explain herself. I wonder if she’d say she loved me, and that she’d tell me what caused her to become an awful, neglectful mother.
Clara copies my position, then plants her head on her knees to face me. I turn my face in refusal to look at her. I attempt to stay strong, and stiffen. But, my body is weak. How could she cause me to feel so little?
“Henry told me that soon you would blossom and be prettier than me…it scared me. The way he said it was as if he would trade me in for you. As a mother, I know I should have been better. I should have loved you more, and not hurt you as I did. But I was snorting Opioid pills with anyone who had them…I wasn’t myself. After I left you here, Henry and I went on a bender. He overdosed and almost died…I wish he had. So many times I wanted to run and find you, to bring you home, but my addiction was too strong.” Her eyes are red and puffy. She searches my face for a response.
I stare at my hands. Truthfully, I had no interest in hearing her excuses. Addiction? Really? How weak! I felt my anger bubble. Now I needed to wake up. I stand then walk around, desperately looking for an exit, but somehow the restroom door has disappeared. I let out a sigh. As I lower myself to the floor, a sofa appears.
“Are you doing this?” I snap as I glare at Clara. “I WANT TO WAKE UP, NOW!” I scream as I shake my fist in the air.
She turns her face as tears fall to the bathroom floor. I roll my eyes, then plop down on the sofa.
“When you were born, I was so disappointed in myself. I had dreams, plans for my future.”
“NO. You shut your mouth. It’s not my fault you were unprotected the day you conceived me!” My screams echo off the bathroom walls.
She focuses on her hands. “I’m here in your dreams, because…I’m dead, Scarlet. I overdosed on heroin.” Her eyes fill with tears as she returns her gaze to the floor.
Clara tells me how her family, that I never met or knew of, were a plantation family from the South. Next, she says that during her first year of college—I was conceived. Soon after, her father disowned her and me. Later, Clara and I moved to Florida with my father, James Rodrick. She divulges how much he loved us. We lived happily, in a humble, simple duplex in Orlando. My parents worked at Disney World. Clara laughs as she recollects my father in his Winnie the Pooh costume. Clara held the position of a cafe cashier. She said she was clean, too—they both were.
Then one day, my parents were on the bus from our apartment to the amusement park. I was only three months old. Some addict decided to mug the entire bus. My father was brave; he protected us. But he suffered a fatal injury; his neck was penetrated by a stray bullet. As he died, he reminded us how much he loved us and told us to stay strong, that he’d always be with us.
“He barely got to say goodbye,” Clara says in between sobs.
“He was the love of my life, Scarlet. James loved us so much that he died protecting us.” Clara grabs my hand, and I let her hold it as our tears join on the bathroom floor.
After we briefly mourn my father’s untimely death, Clara continues to share her past. She reveals that she tried to make it in Orlando, but her income just wasn’t enough. One of her coworkers suggested she try Bonita Springs, that it was a much more affordable area and that she’d find work easily. Her helpful coworker was also the person to give Clara her first bottle of illegal opioids.
From there, my mother spoke of her struggle with prescription drugs. Her addiction was not an excuse for her bad parenting, but it allows me to understand her. I felt sympathetic that she had witnessed and endured my father’s death. As he died in her arms, she remembers that we were covered in his blood. She never sought help for her loss; she just coped to keep us afloat.
“How are you here, in my dream?” I question as I search her face for a response.
“Honestly, I’m not sure. But I’m very glad I’ve had this opportunity. I love you so much, Scarlet. I know my addiction made me a horrible mother, but I always loved you. The pills just kept me from showing you,” she says as she hugs me. I begin to hug her back, but then I feel myself waking up. Before I wake, I manage to yell, “I forgive you, Clara!”
I’m alone and a tad disoriented as I lay in my hotel bed. After a quick bathroom break, I snuggle up under the hotel comforter. My cell shows no notifications; not even a message from David. I check my email, but quickly grow bored by all the junk, so I return my cell to its resting spot.
The thought of starting the day crosses my mind, but then I recline and decide to have a lazy vacation day. My body relaxes but, just as my mind begins to drift, Kim barges in.
“GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!” she hollers as she enters our room.
“Shhh!” Tim hisses loudly from his bed.
Kim peeks into our room then gestures for me to follow her. I jump out of bed, grab my phone, then follow her into Tim’s room. Just like two excited kids who are ready to spend Saturday morning watching cartoons in bed with their parents, Kim and I hop into bed with Tim. He wasn’t, and will never be, a morning person. Nonetheless, he snuggles up with Kim under one arm and me under the other. The three of us lay in Tim’s bed, recollecting the events from last night.
As usual, Kim takes over our conversation to tell us how her evening went. Once the group was in Charles’ penthouse suite, Kim says, “Charles made sure to tell everyone the suite was his treat to his buds.” Someone described Charles as a trust-fund kid from Texas, but he’s actually a successful businessperson, however, his exact career is unclear.
Charles made sure that everyone was aware that DFW, TX was his playground. According to Kim, Charles ordered bottle service for the group. The moment the alcohol cart arrived, the suite became a lively party; somehow Charlotte was designated as DJ.
“At some point someone was messing with the lights and it was like a techno club in Charles’ suite!” Kim declares as she lets out a laugh.
“Everyone enjoyed themselves until couples began to disappear. First Charlotte and Charles vanished into Charles’ room. Next, Emily and Fredrick left for his room. Right after that, Marshall and Anne left for Anne’s room,” Kim shares before mentioning that she had no interest in having an awkward morning, or having to walk the walk of shame. So, she talked to Paul until he passed out.
“I felt safe, and, frankly, too tired to return to our suite, so I just snuggled up next to him,” she confesses as her cheeks flush. I poke her arm to get her to spill it. She gives me a playful push, bites her lip, and says, “His kisses were so sweet and different.” A snort escapes her lips as she laughs, which makes her cover her mouth.
Tim excuses himself to select clothing from his bag, then he beelines for the bathroom. The moment Tim starts the shower, Kim reveals, “Charles was planning on renting a yacht for the day; he said we were all invited!” She claps her hands as a wide grin spreads across her lips.
As I fake a smile to match her excitement, indifference overcomes me. It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with our new friends, but this is not the vacation I wanted. I had no interest in continuing to spend time with a group of happy couples. I’m under the impression that we’d have fun, but now all I want is to see David.
“Sounds fun,” I offer as I avoid coming off apathetic. I smile so that Kim doesn’t assume I’m ungrateful.
“I need to shower,” Kim says as she glances at the door.
“So do I,” I reply with a challenging glare. She produces a devilish smirk; I’m aware of her intentions. Without a word, we bolt for our room. I almost fall face-first on Tim’s carpet, my blunder allows Kim to win the race.
As Kim showers, I select my outfit for the day. I choose a bikini and loose-fitting cover-all dress, with comfy poolside sandals. Once it’s my turn to shower, I scrub and prep my skin.
Our timing is on-point: As the three of us leave our penthouse suite, Charles and friends are leaving theirs. We exchange pleasantries and follow each other towards Charlotte’s suite. Anne answers our knock with a bright smile.
“Good morning, everyone!” Charlotte booms from within her bedroom. We’re all dressed in yacht attire: bathing suits and cover-all dresses for the ladies, and the guys are in swimming trunks, tank tops, and yacht shoes. Fredrick suggests we eat close to the resort, so we enter the elevator then make our way towards the restaurant pier.
The restaurant is busy, with patrons being attended by young, college-aged wait staff. Our waiter’s name is Jonas. He’s timid but efficient.
Charles was either showing off or being generous, because he insisted on paying for the entire day. Our brunch consisted of fruit bowls, whole-wheat toast, scrambled eggs, and sausage patties. Some of the group drank coffee, others herbal tea, and Anne drank orange juice. Tim, Kim, and I are apparently the only ones up for Mimosas, so that’s what we had, and plenty of them.
When Charles excuses himself to pay for our yacht excursion, we chat in excitement as we enjoy our brunch in the splendid ambiance provided by the ocean. Just as we complete our brunch, Charles re-joins with our group. We thank Jonas, then begin our journey to spend our day on Charles’ rental.
Once we approach the yacht, we see three crew members waiting for us: the captain, Jim, his navigator, Lu, and Ash, our beverage and snack gal. The yacht is massive—it consists of the main deck, and below is the equivalent of a full-sized bedroom, living area, kitchen, and bathroom. All the girls admire the feminine but sleek appeal. The guys gush about the speed of the yacht. As we depart, we grab on tight as the yacht thrusts us forward. Ocean Cruising is the name of the yacht, but the name should have been The Ocean Bolt.
For the first twenty minutes, we cruise around the island. Our trip is much better than our night yacht experience. The sun beams down and covers us with its warmth. For a moment, we’re zooming over one small wave after another. Before this trip to the Keys, my yacht experiences were scarce. I let my mind drift as I soak up the sun, the breeze, and the gentle drops of ocean water.
We reach a distance out into the ocean that renders the resort a dot in the distance. Our captain slowly reduces speed until we come to a stop. We’re stopped in the middle of the vast, majestic ocean. My skin starts to overheat as I notice there isn’t a cloud in the sky. Our captain and navigator stay in their working area, while Ash keeps our drinks flowing and our snack tray full.
Somehow there’s a patio set built into the yacht that is next to a pool large enough for our group to swim comfortably. We spend our afternoon splashing, sitting, drinking, eating, and getting to know one another. When we’re all together, we sit in a square-shaped arrangement with Charles, Charlotte, Emily, and Fredrick sitting on the larger outdoor sofa. Marshall and Anne are snuggled up on a small loveseat. Kim and Paul are whispering into each other’s ears. Tim and I are facing Marshall and Anne.
Ash’s great at her job; she doesn’t hover but makes sure to keep our glasses full. The yacht sways slowly but doesn’t disrupt our relaxing experience. Fredrick mentions venturing out and going sightseeing around the Keys. Most of the group agrees—they plan for tomorrow’s outing.
Since Fredrick suggested our Sunday outing, he says he’d fund the day. Thus, the bus rental and our food and drinks will all be paid by him. Charles attempts to pay for the day and is greeted with a sharp response from Fredrick, “Charles, we’ll be here for almost two weeks. You’ll have time to pay for another outing.” Charles pouts as his yacht trip is outshined by talk about exploring the island. Fredrick recalls a past trip that Charles had taken with Fredrick’s family, but then Charlotte interrupts his story.
“We should take a break from the sun and cool down below,” she suggests with an infectious grin that no one could reject.
Like students following a teacher, we line up to descended the yacht stairs. The area below the yacht is laid out like an apartment: living room, kitchen, a full bathroom, and bedroom. The living area has scattered furniture with enough seating for everyone.
The centerpiece of the living room is a cream-colored leather sectional that’s placed before a cocktail table. Then there’s an entertainment stand that includes a flat-screen TV as well as a music system. Paul becomes childlike when he notices that the yacht living room has a PlayStation game console with several games.
“Do you guys want to dance?” Paul grins. Kim steps forward to say she’d like to. Then Marshall and Anne join in.
Charles and Charlotte are nowhere in sight. Tim nods towards the bedroom door.
“They’re locked in there,” he whispers with his lips wrinkled into a smirk.
“She doesn’t waste time,” Emily remarks from behind her glass of Champagne.
“Yeah, Charles can be very persuasive,” Fredrick discloses. Tim notices a deck of cards on the table near the kitchen.
“You guys want to play a drinking game?” he asks as he shuffles the deck. Emily, Fredrick, and I take our seats around Tim and wait for our cards.
“The game is called ‘High, low, red, or black,’ the premise is to guess if the card is high or low and if the card is red or black. You have to make two guesses. If you fail to pick the right combo, you lose. If you lose, you drink. And if you win, you pick who drinks,” Tim instructs with a devilish grin.
“Cool,” Fredrick acknowledges as he nods in anticipation of playing.
“Should we get some drinks?” Emily inquires as she stands to search the room. As if on command, without anyone saying a word, Ash appears.
“Can I help with anything?” Ash inquires in an attentive tone.
“Yes, we need some shot glasses and tequila,” Emily says as she searches our faces for a response.
“Or vodka, or both,” Tim interrupts. Emily nods in agreement.
“All right. I’ll be back in a jiff,” Ash says as she retrieves the items.
Our group stops to observe the group of video dancers. Paul and Kim are competing as Marshall and Anne spectate.
“I’m winning!” Kim exclaims as she hits every move. Paul grins in adoration then says, “Ha! Just wait!”
Without much effort, Paul executes a flawless dance combo that eliminates Kim. He celebrates his win with more dancing. Kim kisses Paul then whispers in his ear. He grabs her hand then leads her to a sofa. Marshall and Anne are next. They’re awkward and clumsy but are a hoot to watch.
Marshall trips over his feet, leaving Anne to help him up, but they’re both too clumsy so they tumble over each other and end up lying on the ground, laughing hysterically. Those of us who witness their tumble join in the laughter.
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