Homewrecker

23 - 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

I kept catching glimmering glimpses of the light-colored blue lake water in between the pine trees grouped together and the humble-sized mansions designed to resemble rustic cabins for the millionaires and socialites summering here to feel more down-to-earth, more in tune with nature without actually having to deal with poison ivy or pricker bushes or no Wi-Fi. I heard kids somewhere, splashing and laughing and screaming, and the scent of a grill mingled with the breeze off the lake.

Someone in a riding lawn mower waved at me, even though I could tell from the vest he wore and the truck parked in front of the lawn with an attachment for the mower that he was a paid service and didn't actually live there. I wondered who mowed the lawn at the Solidays' lake-house before guessing it was probably Ethan, even though I hadn't actually seen him since he braided my hair yesterday and that was the first time I had seen him since I upbraided him for taking advantage of his parents' wealth.

I had been walking for around twenty minutes with Miles, vaguely remembering the joke Natalie said David made when naming him, before I noticed the manicured lawns becoming a little more overgrown, although not by much, and the houses were spaced out a little further. Then, further up the road, there was a turn into a paved parking lot, the back surrounded by grains of sand and a couple hundred feet from the shore of a beach. It was the middle of the afternoon on Friday, so there were a few parked cars in between the yellow spaces, including one that had just pulled in with an inflatable unicorn stuffed in the trunk, the horn and face pressed against one of the windows.

The water was drifting back and forth against the sand, smoother than the mud and rocks around the dock in the Solidays' backyard, but I could still see the gray and brown pebbles near the water's edge. Music was playing, but the lyrics and melodies from different phones or radios were all combined together, fragmented and jumbled. There were a couple of grills protruding from the ground near the shade under the pine trees on either side of the parking lot, picnic benches with expensive looking coolers and reusable tumblers scattered across them.

Beach chairs close to the sand were planted near the water, umbrellas with stripes or cartoon designs shading them, and towels were stretched out with grains of sand in the folds. Kids were playing in the water, gingerly stepping in the water as they complained about the rocks hurting their feet, and parents stood back, in flip-flops, with their phones and took pictures of them.

The sand against my sneakers made my footsteps heavier as I ambled through the parking lot with Miles and then onto the beach, glancing over to see if it was too hot for his paws but he seemed fine as he eagerly went in front of me, taking in the people going past us or the kids in the water. He tilted his head up, sniffing the air as I realized someone was grilling hot dogs.

I let out a breath as I reached the water, retracting his leash a little to stop him from getting in, and everything seemed alright here. Generations of families were standing in the sand together, eating hot dogs and mayonnaise-based salads, listening to music and playing in the water, enjoying the beginning of the weekend like whatever happened that week didn't matter.

Or maybe they were trying not to let it matter, letting each moment—finding out their mother was dead, then murdered, moving in with an estranged family, losing everything they had, accidentally calling their stepmother mom—they let it out drift back out with the water. I tried to do that too, to let it all melt away from my skin and into the water, polluting it with all of the feelings I didn't want anymore.

But instead, I clung to it harder because it was all I had.

Then I was suddenly dragged away from where I had been standing, an abrupt and strong tug coming from the handle of the leash I held onto as Miles broke into a run. "Miles, stop," I tried to tell him as he pulled me forward, sand at least slowing us both before I realized where he was running to and my eyes widened.