100 Bad Days

Horrors at Huntington Beach- Part 1

   California might be one of my favorite places to visit. Next time though, I think I'm going to visit by myself. 

  The day starts off with a two-hour drive to Huntington Beach in San Diego, California. Considering my Bluetooth headphones are dead, I think I'm just about ready to go crazy. 

  My name is Alex. I'm nineteen years old and I'm at the point in my life where I'm regretting not having moved out, but also grateful that I haven't. I travelled here to California for my Mom's birthday vacation, Ava Watson. My brother, Archer, is here with us as well. We also came with her fiance, Emmet Lingwall, and his kids, Corey, Keegan, Felix, and Alvin. 

  We finally arrived after a two-hour drive with Emmet's kids bickering with each other constantly. After we finally found a place to park, we got out of the car and began walking toward the beach. However, since I had drank a lot of water on the trip down, I need to use the bathroom first. 

   "I know this is bad timing," I begin to avoid causing any tension between my Mom and I. "But, I have to go to the bathroom before we go down." 

   My Mom and I don't have the best relationship. My Mom isn't an abusive person by any means and we love each other. But, we struggle to get along due to our differing perspectives on life as a whole. Any personality trait that I have, any political view that I have, any mental illness that I struggle with, any opinion that I have, my Mom is the complete opposite. While I'm laid-back and slow to anger, my Mom has the fuse of a bomb that's about to go off. Mentioning anything to her at all is like walking on a tightrope. 

   Already, Mom sounds annoyed with me, but thankfully, she's being more patient than usual. "Alright, I think there's a restroom over here."

   However, everyone immediately seems to forget that I expressed my need to empty my bladder and we begin walking in the opposite direction. The urge to go to the bathroom merely worsens and I groan in discomfort. 

   Mom takes this groan as a reason to be snippy with me and points to the building in the opposite direction. "The bathrooms are over there! I already told you to go!" 

  I am flabbergasted. While I'm used to her sudden outbursts, this one is ridiculous, even for her. Somebody must've set her off earlier. I don't even know what to say. "I just-"

   "You're an adult," Mom insists. "You can walk to the bathrooms on your own."

  "I know that I can!" I tell her. "I just didn't know where they were." 

   As they continue to walk in the opposite direction, I growl in frustration and walk away in the other direction. Since nobody is bothering to help me, I guess I'm going to have to find the restrooms myself. 

   Once I finally find the restrooms and finish using them, I have to find my way back to my family over the vast expanse of land. I assume they would be walking towards the beach, so I begin to walk in the direction of the ocean. I listen for the sound of the waves. The wind whipping through my hair and the sound of the ocean waves crashing down upon the sand is blissful to me and I almost forget that I am looking for my family. 

   However, I am immediately snapped into a harsh reality when Mom calls out, "Alyssa!"

  I grimace and feel my heart begin to beat faster. I am non-binary and Alyssa is my deadname. While I am female presenting and use she/they pronouns, I still had to change my name to something more androgynous. Anything overly feminine tends to make me feel dysphoric as I lean more masculine on the gender spectrum. Even if I still use female gendered terms. It's hard for most people to understand and I used to be insecure about that. But, now I realize that my gender is my own unique experience and I'm not living to conform with anybody else's standards.