Audrey & Aislinn: Reset [EDITING]

Chapter 5 - Friday (Edited)

AISLINN

I open my eyes to the warm orange hue of the afternoon sun streaming in through the window of our B & B. It dances, casting long shadows over the floral walls. My eyes trace them as I roll over, staring at the white ceiling above.

The flipping of pages alerts me to my mother, who's sitting on the other side of the bed, with her back to me. She's still wearing dark wash denim jeans and fitted lilac blouse from earlier. Her dishevelled dark brown hair, no longer tied in a high ponytail, now falls around her shoulders.

I watch her for a moment, curious. She's engrossed in something laying in her lap. She reaches for the bedside table. A notepad? OMG, what on earth is this woman doing? Writing me a note? Calculating the cost of the trip? A shopping list? Ridiculous!

"Mum, what are you doing?" I say, trying to sound casual.

Startled, she jumps and spins around, swivelling her head and extending her arm behind her, before leaning on the bed. "Oh, my goodness, you scared the hell out of me, Aislinn!" she blurts.

I can't control my laughter. With a playful curl of her lip, she scorns. "Sorry mum, I didn't know you were such a scaredy cat," I reply, returning her playful demeanour.

She sits up, turning to face me, flashing her 'butter wouldn't melt in her mouth,' smile. "While you were sleeping, I thought I might check out these brochures and plan a few activities for us to try out." She passes me the notepad.

My eyes wander over the page, divided in half, for each day of the weekend. Then, the page into two-hour time blocks, listing different activities for each slot.

I groan and roll my eyes. "Mum, what the hell?". Her face falls, the instant disappointment rolling through her, as a tear wells. "You said we'd choose together," I say, emphasizing the last word.

"I was trying to surprise you," she replies sheepishly.

Ugh! Not this guilt trip stuff again. Her going ahead and planning all of this without me annoys me - controlling the entire situation, as usual.

She always does this. It's as if she thinks controlling everything means nothing bad will ever happen. That everything will be roses and unicorns. The entire point of this trip, though she hadn't admitted it to me, is for us to bond. For that to happen, I need to feel as though I have a say in what we're doing. It's not meant to be a dictatorship, right?

A pang of guilt gnaws in my stomach, following my explosion. The activities she's planned aren't that bad, I suppose. I might even say they sound like fun, but this isn't the time to admit I'm wrong. Hell no!

Seeking an escape, I recall the shared bathroom on this floor. I leap from the bed, and in four long strides reach the door. She doesn't say a word. I don't give her time to. Besides, I don't have the energy for more of that guilt trip spiel, anyway.

I follow the hallway until I reach the bathroom, checking it's vacant with a knock, before entering. I twist the lock, ensuring my solitude. Now what?

The bathroom isn't as old-timey as the rest of the house, although it's still got charm with a claw-foot bathtub. Opposite that sits a glassed-in shower and toilet, with the vanity linking the room along the back wall. Historic charm resonates on the walls, with white wooden panelling and a centre rail, and duck egg blue paint extending to the ceiling. Small white herringbone tiles add a modern touch to the shower and vanity.

Whomever designed this, has successfully blended old and new as one. In contrast to the herringbone, the floor's ornate mosaic tiles add a pop of colour, with three different shades of blue matching the walls. Small bottles of shampoo sit atop the vanity, waiting to be used, alongside a small vase filled with pink roses. A framed photograph of a lake hangs next to the door, and I wonder whether it's of the lake nearby.