"Mom, you can't be serious."
"I'm sorry but I'm just not up for it, okay?" Her voice is weary, a shadow of its former warmth. I don't know why I never expected this outcome. I mean, she's barely left her bed in weeks.
I frown, feeling the weight of her grief settling over us like a heavy blanket. It's been this way since Dad left, unable to cope with Will's death—unable to face what he's done to our family.
"Maybe you'll feel better once you get there." I suggest, sitting down on her bed and gently taking a hold of her hands, desperately hoping to persuade her. I don't know how much longer I could bare to see her like this. "A change of scenery would be good for you. You love the beach house."
"Bry..." Her voice trembles, her eyes avoiding mine.
"And think of all the good memories," I push, "The walks on the beach, the drives along the coast, the sunsets—"
"Briar!" The sudden rise in her voice startles me, cutting off my words. "I'm not going."
I feel a pang in my chest, my breath catching in my throat knowing her decision is final. She really won't be coming. It hits me like a blow to the face, the realisation that my mom is withdrawing further. I release her hands as my eyes cloud over.
Instantly, she tears up. "I'm sorry I yelled. I just can't go; I don't want anyone to see me like this."
"Mommy, don't cry." I say softly, pulling her into a hug. I become nauseous at the thought of her shame. Why should she be the one that's humiliated? She lost her son. "It's okay, we don't have to go."
"No," She quickly pulls away, wiping her tears. "You're still going. Nat will still be there with you."
"I'm not leaving you alone," I insist, concern etched on my face. "And Nat? You really think she could handle it?"
"I'm offended," a voice chimes in from the doorway. Natalie, Ira's and Romeo's mom, enters the room with a warm smile. She's been a part of our family as long as Ira and I have been best friends, forming her own bond with my mom.
"Sorry, Nat," I offer up a small smile, "But you know it's true. You're definitely the good cop."
"Fair enough," Nat admits with a chuckle. "But we already talked about this," She says to my mom, her tone gentle but firm. "I'm not leaving you here alone for the whole summer."
"Me neither," I chime in.
"I don't want to ruin anyone's summer," Mom says softly, her voice tinged with overwhelming sadness.
"You won't," Nat assures her, her tone unwaveringly supportive. "I'll stay here with you, and the kids can go to the beach house. Alone."
What? My ears perk up.
"What?" My mom blinks, clearly taken aback by the suggestion.
"They're old enough now," Nat continues, her confidence growing. "If we can't trust them to spend their summer alone, how the hell are we gonna send them off to college next year?"
"Have you met my daughter?" Mom places an affectionate hand on my cheek, a small smile playing on her lips. "My wild child. I fully intended on locking her in the basement to keep her here with me."
I tilt my head and give her a look that says 'not happening', though finding that she wants to keep me close endearing.
"Would you want that? To go to the beach house without us?" Mom asks me gently, her eyes searching mine.
Are you kidding? I'm sad at the idea that she won't be here because she needs to get out of the house, but ever since I was a kid I've dreamed of going to the beach house with just Ira and all of our friends. No parents. No rules. No one to tell us no.
"I think I'll be okay," I reply with a soft laugh, leaning into her touch.
"Okay," Mom says tentatively, looking to Nat for confirmation.
"Okay?" Nat asks.
"Okay," Mom affirms with a smile.
Overcome with excitement, I tackle both my mom and Nat to the bed, enveloping them in a tight embrace. "I love you guys! Call me everyday, okay?"
They both kiss my forehead, but it's Nat who adds, "We definitely will. And you should expect surprise visits from me."
"That's fair. I promise we'll be so so good," I get up from the bed, "We should go now if we want to make it before the sun sets."
"Yes, go. Please drive safely," My mom tells me, her tone tinged with concern that I hope will leave her heart one day. "And please, Briar. Please be responsible. If something happens, don't hesitate to call."
"Of course," I assure with a warm smile. "You'll be okay?"
"Yes, don't worry about me. Have fun with your friends," Mom replies softly, pulling me into a final hug. "I love you."
"Love you too," I murmur, hugging both Mom and Nat once more before leaving the room.
I walk across the hallway to my room, dragging one of my suitcases behind me while simultaneously pulling out my phone to call Ira.
She picks up on the second ring. "I don't know if I should be worried that my brother and my boyfriend locked themselves in a room together."
"Maybe a little bit." I say, we both laugh.
"Is my mom over there? Her bags aren't packed, and I can't reach her 'cause she left her phone here."
"So, about that... change of plans." I begin tentatively.
"Oh no." Ira's voice drops with concern.
I can't help but smile mischievously. "Trust me when I say, this just bumped up from being the best fucking summer ever, to the best mother fucking summer of your life."
"Oh no."
"Oh yeah," I affirm confidently, excitement bubbling in my voice, before hanging up.
I head downstairs, toss my bags into the trunk, and make my way to the garage. The air inside is warm and still, carrying the faint scent of salt, gasoline, and dust. I flick on the light, and there it is--my board, leaning against the wall like it's been waiting for me. Scratched, sun-bleached, perfect.
But my hand doesn't land on it right away. Instead, it brushes another.
My brother's surfboard stands tall besides mine, untouched since last April. The color's faded, but the wax is still worn where his feet used to grip. The memory of him doesn't make me sad like it makes my mom and dad. I love seeing him in everything. I love that his presence still lingers. I stare at it, and something tight coils in my chest. I shouldn't take it, I know that.
But my fingers curl around it anyway.
The grip is familiar--solid, grounding, just like him. For a second I hear his voice in my head, teasing, "Great, you're taking my board now. Wasn't the jeep enough?" I laugh, and for a heartbeat, I swear I hear his echo follow mine.
I tie both boards to the roof of the jeep, the sun still hangs high above the horizon, scorching everything it touches. The coconut trees are still--they don't dance like they do by the coast. I climb into the driver's seat and back out of the driveway.
Two boards. Like always.