The morning of her birthday, she helped me pack towels, sunscreen, and two juice boxes she called “emergency juice.”
Women in polished cover-ups carrying logo tote bags.
By the time we got to the resort, she was practically bouncing. It was a nicer place than anywhere I usually took her.
White umbrellas. Clean chairs. Women in polished cover-ups carrying logo tote bags. Near the entrance, a sign mentioned a family hospitality feature the resort was doing that afternoon with a local lifestyle brand.
I noticed all of it because it made me feel suddenly aware of myself.
Of my age.
“We belong here too.”
Of my budget.
Of how carefully I had saved just to afford one day there.
Amelia squeezed my hand.
“We belong here too,” she said.
For a little while, everything was perfect.
I looked down at her and smiled. “Yes, we do.”
We changed, found our chairs, and got straight into the water.
For a little while, everything was perfect. Amelia splashed. I splashed back. She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered, “Best birthday ever.”
Then we climbed out of the pool.
She looked about thirty. Stylish hat, glossy lips, expensive sunglasses pushed up in her hair.
I had just reached for our towels when a woman behind us said, loudly, “Oh my God.”
I turned.
She looked about thirty. Stylish hat, glossy lips, expensive sunglasses pushed up in her hair. Two women sat behind her with iced drinks and matching tote bags.
“That swimsuit. At your age?”
She looked me up and down and said, “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
She gave a short laugh.
“That swimsuit. At your age?”
For one second, I honestly thought I had misunderstood her.
Her friends giggled.
I glanced down at myself. I was fully covered. Nothing low-cut. Nothing flashy. Just an ordinary swimsuit on an ordinary woman trying to have one happy day with her granddaughter.
I said quietly, “It’s a pool.”
Her friends giggled.
She tilted her head. “There are children here.”
“Some things just aren’t pleasant for everyone else.”
My face went hot.
“I am covered,” I said.
She smiled in a way that made it worse. “Some things just aren’t pleasant for everyone else.”
It was not even only the words.
It was the looking.
I reached for my cover-up without thinking.
The way her friends smiled into their drinks.
The way I suddenly felt too old, too visible, too much.
I reached for my cover-up without thinking.
Amelia looked up at me. “Grandma?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine, baby.”
I was not fine.
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