Summer with the Bertram Brothers

o n e - l i f e

It takes me two hours to untangle my headphones, which ends up being the whole car ride to L'Acadie. 

We get there later than planned, because I've gotten a detention... for the first time. I didn't know talking back was disrespectful. I've gotten into a meaningless argument with my teacher, because he couldn't read my writing. I write too small, he says. So, he gave me a zero. I told him I could rewrite it since my grade was unfair. I also added that I write perfectly fine; he's just blind. I have even suggested reading it out loud. He refused. Then I asked whether he was deaf too. I think that's where I ticked him off.

My mother pulls up by our tiny lake house. The sun beams hard. I roll my window up and push the car door open. My sister is already out stretching her smooth waxed model legs. She flips her platinum blond locks pass her shoulders, provoking my envy of her well inherited genes. Evangeline is perfect. She can have anything with a snap of her finger. I just look so plain. It's as if my parents saw how beautiful their first daughter was and tried again but didn't fully succeed. We don't even look alike. We just share the same lips. Even my older brother. Being the youngest sucks most times. I'm forced to be independent. 

But my life wasn't such a hardship until our dad died last year. It hurts still... to think about him. He would be here, getting out fishing lines and chuckled as I'd followed him straight to the lake. We'd all be merry. Mom would laugh light-heartedly, begging us to come back inside before dark. Then we'd fry our best catch. Ice cream for dessert. Go to bed with a full belly and a tan. 

Not this year though. He was a pilot. His plane crashed on its way to Moscow. Things haven't been the same. 

I can already feel how empty this summer will be. 

I watch my mother slip on her straw hat over her head and sigh. 

She looks at me, "Won't you help unpack?"

Eva is already gone by the beach. I shrug, as she then pops the trunk open.
"Please, Ambrosia," she says, "Don't stop yourself from having fun and spending time with your friends."
I pull out the suitcases quickly.
"Yeah," I reply, feeling the sun burn me.
"If anyone asks... Just don't blab about our family problems."
I shoot mother a look, "Everyone here probably knows."
"Still, don't say anything, okay?" she pushes on.
"Okay," I raise my brows, annoyed.

It's like she wants people to think the Delicates are just fine, just fine. She's good at pretending. I'm not. I'm easier to read than a book, so they say. 

I move on and finish unpacking. Eva has twice as heavy cases than me, but I realize that it's only her makeup bags after mother steps in the house with two more fuchsia bags.

"I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" she asks me. 

She seems so down, despite her thin smile. I'm about to shake my head, but she hands me some dollar bills and tells me to visit my brother and buy some fresh trout. I walk out the house after putting back on my slippers. The sun makes the sand look white. Since Doyle finished his studies and still doesn't know what he wants to do in life, he's taken over our dad's small fish shop by the market side of L'Acadie beach. Otherwise, mom would need to get a second job.

I step inside the blue smelly cabin. I see Doyle and some other hairy guy push lobsters out of a net bag.
"Hi Doyle."
He spots me after turning around, "Oh, hey little sis. You guys finally reached?"
I nod. I hand him the money and say mom wants something for dinner.
"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll bring something home later."
So I stuff the bills in my back pocket and lean back on one of the new counters he's constructed. The place is half renovated.
"So, how's mom?" he asks, taking off his giant black rubber gloves.
"She's tired." 

I'm never able to find another word for her state. I see Doyle's shoulder slump, as if he wanted to hear good news.

"I bet," he says.

It's silent.

"I know she needs the vacation, but I'm worried how she's going to spend it."
He looks at me and pauses, "She's not going... she's not going to do that... anymore, Ambi."
I look down at my hands.
"I feel guilty leaving her alone sometimes."
"Don't. She's going to be fine—"
"She's not strong enough, Doyle," I cut him off. I hear him exhale loudly. I lower my voice for only him to hear, although the hairy guy left the cabin a while ago, "What if...she does..."
"If anything, I'll take care of her."
"You have a business to run. And Eva's just self-centered."
"Go to the beach," he demands.
I look up at him, "What?"
"Go," he waves his hand towards the door, "Go to the beach and forget about your worries. We've all went through some bad stuff. Forget about everything. It's your summer, Ambi. Just have fun."
He walks off and empties another net of lobsters in the tank. Funny, mother said the same thing.
I jump off the counter. Fine, I think to myself, I'll have the time of my life.

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your generic summertime sadness story