"This is what she had become."
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Cleopatra Banks' last week in the small town of New Chelsea is nothing like she would have imagined it, but nothing could have prepared her for the stinging betrayal she's faced with and suddenly the prospect of...
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It's going to be a long week. I can feel it. The cracks are already beginning to show in mom's frazzled state, reminding me once again that it never gets easier.
Holidays like Easter and Christmas have never been easy for my family no matter how many years it's been since our pre New Chelsea years. My parents try to keep it cool like everything's all fine and dandy when in reality it's not, especially now that Ruby's becoming more vocal and noticing things.
I could feel myself begin to sweat when she asked my mom about grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, how some of the kids in her class were going to visit their relatives or even have relatives over for the Easter holiday and why we never do any of that.
Mom and dad had to explain that we are all the family she needs. They left whole chunks of the truth out because she's too young to understand. I was too young to live it but that doesn't mean Ruby also has to. In some way, we're all just trying to keep her innocence intact for as long as possible.
She continued to pester them, unsatisfied with their vague answers and I somehow managed to step in in the nick of time to pacify her but who knows how long it'll take before she forgets and starts asking questions again?
But I guess I'll have to hold that thought for now.
"We're here!" mom announces chirpily as she pulls into the parking of The Bonsai Day Spa and Hot Springs. I don't know how many times she's dragged me here in the past couple of months but today seems like the perfect day for us.
After hours of unnecessary retail therapy that lead to the impulsive purchase of a brand new bathroom set and a heap of clothing thanks to all the clearance sales, this should definitely be the thing to quell mom's nerves.
Our extended family is a forbidden topic and just the mention of them brings back bad memories.
We walk into the brightly lit reception area, the beautiful smells of lavender, jasmine and other therapeutic fragrances permeating the air, drawing us in and already sending us into a state of relaxation –just as it said in their brochure.
At least there's one brochure I can trust.
We walk along the dark hardwood floors, past a fountain and a couple bonsai trees that seem to accentuate the beautiful white, green and blue colors used in the space.
Mom and I are met by a pleasant receptionist whom she falls into an easy conversation with. Trust her to be on first name basis with the staff here. The receptionist, clad in a black tunic with the spa's logo on it and matching pants types a few things into the computer and checks for something in a large binder before someone –another staff member dressed in the same uniform comes bounding through a door to meet us.
At this point I'm already familiar with the drill but these people are extremely hands on when it comes to their clients –literally—and we're escorted into a room to change out of our clothes and into fluffy white robes, white turbans for our heads and slippers for our feet.
