Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Me and Deja? Piet was Holli’s kid, too. “You don’t have a constant loop of horrible things running through your head at all time, making you fully aware that everything is out to kill the tiny person you’re trying to protect?”
She shook her head and exhaled a big, blue cloud. “No. I don’t. And it makes me worry like, you know, what kind of mother am I if I don’t live in a constant state of panic?”
“A less-stressed out one, I would imagine.” I motioned to my mouth. “Smoke, please.”
“Smoke granted,” she said, holding the joint for me again before addressing my point. “Maybe being less stressed out is a good thing, Soph. Your entire life, ever since you guys got Olivia, has been ‘oh my god, what if I disappoint Emma?’”
The weed was working because I started to see where Holli was coming from, which was usually impossible for anyone sober in any circumstance. “I think my situation is a little different, though. You and Deja chose to become parents. You don’t have anyone to let down.”
“Uh, except my child,” she reminded me. “And maybe that’s what you need to be more concerned with.”
Now I wasn’t following. “I should be letting down your child?”
“No, you fucking freshman.” She shook her head in disappointment at my lowered tolerance to THC, which had admittedly made the conversation a little harder to follow than before. “Maybe you should be less worried about raising Olivia exactly the way Emma would and focus on raising her to be the kick-ass little person she is.”
“This is hard,” was the only coherent response I could muster.
“Yeah, I guess.” She swished her feet and calves in the water, then dipped the end of the joint in to extinguish it before sliding into the pool herself.
“You ‘guess’ parenting is hard.”
“I know parenting is hard. But it shouldn’t be hard to focus on raising a kid with the values you think it’s gonna need to go off into the world, and not, I don’t know, become a mass murderer.” She ducked under the water and came up again with an Ariel hair flip.
“But Olivia was supposed to be raised with Emma and Michael’s values and whatever they thought would be best. I’m not sure we’re pulling that off. I mean, here we are, with our boyfriend living with us and his kids here and the fight with Valerie…” My voice trailed off as I sank beneath the water up to my eyes and slowly stepped around. Standing upright, I added, “Did you know alligators aren’t always floating like logs? Sometimes, they’re walking upright with just their peepers out.”
“I did not know that.” Holli sounded suitably impressed. “Doesn’t have a lot to do with child-rearing. At least, I hope it never comes up.”
“Watch me do a handstand,” I ordered and took a deep breath to submerge.
Time moves a lot slower when you’re high as fuck. I had a lot of opportunity to think while I was upside down underwater. Maybe Holli had a point. It was hard enough raising someone else’s kid; worrying about raising a kid the way someone else would just add stress I didn’t need.
All of it was added stress I didn’t need.
I righted myself and stood, pushing wet hair out of my eyes.
“Your legs were like, barely up,” Holli criticized.
“Am I a bad person?” I asked pathetically.
She shook her head. “Nah. You’re just out of practice. If you keep trying, you’ll probably get it.”
“Not about that.” I took a deep breath. “Am I a bad person because I resent having to be a guardian?”
“Uh, no,” she answered automatically. “You’d be a bad person if you expressed that resentment at Olivia, but you don’t. And she adores you. But adoration from a preschooler is exhausting, I assume.”
I nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, prepare yourself.”
“The thing is,” she went on, “you never wanted to have kids. You didn’t want to have stepkids. But life hit you with a minivan full of them.”
“We have a Range Rover,” I corrected her.
“Maybe you’re having such a hard time dealing with all these challenges is because you feel guilty for not wanting to be in this situation in the first place?” Holli suggested.
“Because I feel like an asshole if I say it.” Who was I even kidding? I felt like an asshole for thinking it.
“Don’t worry about looking like an asshole in front of me. We both know we’re assholes. If you need to scream and shout about how unfair it is that you can’t have your cake and eat it, too, call me. I will listen, and I’m not gonna condemn you,” she promised.
“That makes it sound like I’m even more spoiled when you throw in a whole cake analogy.” It had definite Marie Antoinette vibes, and in the current socio-economic and political climate, I wasn’t digging that groove.