C'est la vie!

Chapter 3🥀

Nostalgia.

The powerful sense of desire; a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.

My Dad was a business genius, sadly, the beach resorts were his only ideas that flourished. To say that he loved the resorts would be an understatement.

I had the habit of always brushing my fingers at the edge of the reception table, it was mopane wood, and had an interesting grain to it. My Dad had gotten it from his South African pastor-friend in honor of opening the resort.

He believed this table was the blessing to the resort, and sometimes I liked to think that too.

Lightly, my fingers grazed over the table as I relived the memories.

And suddenly, I could hear my twelve-year old self crow amidst gasping for air from romping around with my little brother who was supposed to 'catch' me.

My biggest challenge then was making sure to hide from him. But now, I not only wanted to hide from him, but from the rest of the world.

I imagined him laughing so hard. And it made my heart ache knowing it was coming from nowhere but my head. How did I take audible voices for granted?

I wish it was easier for me to say, "well, this is life. Nothing lasts forever," and then move on. But how was I supposed to just move on when everything reminded me of them?

I snapped out of my reverie, when my fingers had now reached the end of the table, indicating the end of my flashback.

I had been spending my suspension day at home, studying for my final exams whiles Max spent his working here. But today, he had brought me along so we could 'talk'.

I walked down to the beach where Max was sat on the sand, his knees drawn up to his chin as he stared vaguely into the ocean.

What was he thinking about? It wouldn't be about our family. Max had gotten over their death really quickly like life didn't just leave him with a seventeen year old to take care of.

I mentally prepared myself before dropping unto the wet sand, the cold night breeze making me shiver slightly.

His face was undemonstrative. After a transient moment, he spoke up. "You are not supposed to be here."

I was confused, "you brought me here."

"I mean you are not supposed to be home."

Uh-oh.

"Tell me what happened", he demanded more repulsive than I had thought.

I cleared my throat, "everything you were told was true."

"Then, I think your teacher deserved it," he said to my delight. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

We laughed a little, easing the tension. But the moment was short-lived.

"I wanted to talk about a more important topic." He was uncomfortable now. "First, managing this resort alone is hard work. But we need to start focusing on the one at Cape Coast."

"I thought all you needed was to ensure that everyone was having fun?"

"I thought so too. But, it turns out that managing a resort is difficult. All the while, I thought Papa was just having fun and making sure people were having fun too". I agreed with him. "I don't even know what I'm paying the supervisor for when I have to supervise him to supervise the workers."

He continued, "So, we might be spending weekends at Cape Coast. Just think of it as a mini-vacation every weekend."

"Even when you say it like that, it doesn't sound fun," I groaned.