Mom and I aren’t exactly travelers; I’ve never been on a beach vacation. And the beaches in Brooklyn don’t look anything like this. Still, there’s something about this specific stretch of sand that’s so familiar, I could swear I’ve been here before. For a moment, it’s like I’m standing inside a past version of myself, scanning the water through her eyes, reliving a day I’ve already experienced. I can almost remember. It’s at the edge of my vision, just outside the frame.
“Paisley will have to take you to Jenkins’.” Elizabeth’s voice punches through my reverie, yanking me back to the present. To a place where the logical part of my brain says I’ve never set foot before today. “That’s the ice-cream shop on Main, family-owned for two generations now.”
“If you’ll have access to a car, there’s the aquarium in Riverhead,” Hilary adds.
“And the Big Duck!” Paisley squeals.
I shake off the last gritty silt of my almost-memory, tell myself it was a trick of the light against water. Then I tuck my hands into my armpits and flap them up and down like wings until Paisley and Raychel explode in a fit of giggles. Goofing off I can do. Adventures I can do. It’s responsibility that doesn’t come so easy. I make a promise to myself to work harder.
* * *
That evening, after grilled lamb chops and pea-greens salad on the back porch with Emilia and Paisley, I stretch out on a recliner by the pool and listen to the soft lap of the water spilling over the infinity edge in an endless black cascade. Hush, hush. It’s just begging me to draw it. My sketchbook is still packed, but I’ll dig it out tonight when the darkness prods me inside. There’s so much beauty out here. Both the natural kind and the kind that comes with scads and scads of money. I want to capture it all.
My days officially end after dinner, which is served at six thirty. Emilia and Paisley have mother-daughter time after the plates are cleared, and she takes care of the nighttime routine. I know it’s a pretty good arrangement; I should be grateful for so much time off. But tonight, staring down the end of my first full day in Herron Mills, I could use something to keep me busy. Someone to talk to. I can’t remember the last time I was totally on my own so early in the evening—no Mom, no Kaylee or whatever guy I was hooking up with at the time. Their chatter filling my ears, filling the hours before school would start up again, and I’d drag myself through another day.
The sticky summer air makes me miss Kaylee, in spite of myself. Sometimes, if we had money, we’d go to a movie or grab a slice of pizza. But most summer nights we’d fill our water bottles with vodka and grapefruit juice and lots of crushed ice and sit out on her fire escape, painting our toenails and surfing YouTube for funny videos until we got bored. Then we’d go to a bar, get older guys to buy us drinks. Go to Starr’s, go dancing where we could get in for the pretty girl discount, no ID, no questions asked. Last July was the first time the cops brought me home. It happened two more times over winter break. That I remember.
The back of my mouth waters, and I can’t tell if the idea of holding a cold drink in my hand is making me thirsty or ill. I want it and I don’t want it all at once. I don’t even like drinking that much, not past the first few sips when the booze still tastes like possibility and the promise of escape. New night, new faces, new Anna. It’s always a letdown. The next morning, I’m always the same. I kept it together enough to keep my grades up. Get into a decent college. But those last few months of senior year … I tell myself that’s why I’m here. I have something better to do this summer, someone better to become. Still, the night’s damp heat and the empty hours yawning before me make my palms itch at my sides, my lips turn dry.
I rummage in my bag for my phone, something to keep my hands busy. Mistake. I have three new messages from Kaylee since we got back from the beach, and I still haven’t responded to her texts from yesterday. I sigh and type out a quick reply, something about how busy my job is keeping me and how much I miss her. I promise to call soon, then sign off with a beach umbrella emoji.
I know she’s going to be pissed; it’s a bullshit reply. But I can’t get sucked into Kaylee’s drama right now, no matter how much I miss her. I need to learn how to be by myself, give this new, better Anna a shot. A girl who can spend a quiet summer evening by the pool with a paperback or sketchbook for company. A girl who doesn’t need guys to buy her drinks, doesn’t need to drink at all.
My phone rings, and I brace myself for Kaylee’s rancor. But it’s not Kaylee.
“Hi, Mom.”
“So you are alive.”
“I just got here yesterday. I was going to call this weekend.” It’s distinctly unlike my mom to act, well, this maternal. She’s never been the “call me when you get there” type.
“I got you that new phone for a reason.”
“I know.”
“You can come home. If you change your mind.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her. “It’s really nice here. Paisley’s cute, the Bellamys are nice. I’ve got this.” My voice is filled with conviction. Fake it till you make it.
“I’m sure you do. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Anna.”
“What is it then?” But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I get it. This is my first time away from home. The first time she’s had to worry. She probably should have done some worrying when I was still in Brooklyn, but at the end of the night, I always came home. She’s known about New Paltz for a while now, but I kind of sprang this job on her. I didn’t give her much time to mentally prepare.
“I’m sorry,” I say before she has a chance to respond. “I’ll try to call more.”
“You really like it there? In Herron Mills?”
“Yeah, it’s great. I’m going to save a lot for the fall. Me being here, this is a good thing, Mom.”
She sighs. “I’m sure it is, doll. I just miss you.”
I listen to a story about one of her coworkers at the lab, then promise to text her pictures from Clovelly Cottage and the beach. When we hang up, I lean my head back against the recliner and let the fading light wash over my skin. The back of the house faces west, and the sun is the same brilliant orange orb behind the tree line it was at this time yesterday. It’s beautiful. I tell myself to relax, focus on the girl I want to be. Just breathe.
4 NOW
August
Pathways Juvenile Center, East New York, Brooklyn
“GIRL, YOU ARE DAMN LUCKY.”
“Um, hi?”
“I cannot believe they’ve got you at Pathways. When Ryan Denny’s grow house got busted sophomore year, they held him at fucking Rikers.”
On the other end of the line, Anna lets Kaylee’s words sink in. She adjusts the phone’s sticky plastic receiver against her ear and glances at the guard stationed down the hall. Watching. Over the past two weeks, she’s rarely considered herself lucky. She’s back in Brooklyn, but this place could be anywhere. She’s never felt so far from home.
“Yeah, lucky me.” Anna shifts her weight, left foot, then right, and her Pathways-assigned sneakers squish against the concrete floor.