Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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18
She almost forgot about Zico's half promise to meet up again the next day. But, waking up the next morning, feeling significantly better physically, there still wasn't any sign from Zico. She felt, that somehow, this weekend with him was over.
She slowly got up and also remembered that her mother claimed that the day was going to be a 'beach day'.
Clementine used to love the beach. Obsessed with the ocean and the sun, she knew it was one of the real privileges of growing up in Brazil. But lately she's been so far away from the water and herself that she nearly forgot the healing properties it had. And she needed to heal.
She wasn't sure if she should text Zico first, or just go to the beach, always half ready to drop everything on a whim if he ever did come through...she knew that wasn't the right thing but it was the thing that she felt.
She felt she was in an awkward position, she was just glad the headache wasn't as strong and that she knew she needed a cup of coffee to make it go away completely.
It was that week that the boxes of her things that she left in NYC arrived, and she took her best guess at the box that would contain heaps of random bikinis, worn all over the beaches of the worlds. Family vacations took them across the world, and sometimes it felt like the world wasn't that big after all. Though other times Clementine knew how much more she wanted, needed and craved to see.
It took her on her third try to rummage through the third box, where at the bottom her fingers felt the slinky smooth material of swim wear. She pulled out the first one she grabbed a hold of. A red number, two piece with a balconette top. She loved this one, and even though it wasn't the most demure one, she knew it was okay for Rio beaches where half the women went topless anyway.
Sometimes her mom would go topless on the beach and Clementine never really partook in this. Maybe it was because she wasn't fully raised in Brazil full time, but there were many things she didn't see eye to eye with when it came to the differences between her and her parents.
It was strange, that for one family, they could have had some any different life experiences. Or maybe it was mindsets. Even though they shared many of the same values, it was the little things. Like they way they showed affection, or what they thought was normal in cultural etiquette. And maybe it was in one place, but she always knew and felt that she grew up different in many ways from her peers.
Perhaps, even if their culture was all the same, it was still the eccentricity and money of her parents that would have made her life different for her.
And she was grateful, she was. She got to see so many countries and cultures and taste so many flavours in the short time that she was already on this wondrous planet.
Which is why perhaps she finds it strange, that her parents, being the open mimed people that they were - having seen so much outside of their own bubble (a bubble of money and privilege, really) - were still so narrow minded on some other things. Like things that related specifically to Clementine, and who she could and could not be with. The kinds of people she knew were going to be more or less encouraged by her parents.
Yes, she knew that there was a point where an intervention was not a bad thing. Like in New York.
But even when it wasn't with the 'wrong' kind of crowd, she was always raised and brought up somehow simultaneously on both an open and very tight roped path.
Anyway, she thought to herself, what did it matter if she was going to be an adult soon, whatever that meant to her or her parents. One day, she was going to have to navigate the world by herself really, and where would they be to say the things they would.
Though sometimes, Clementine felt a fear at the prospect of being so utterly alone in the world with no one else to guide her through the dark. Because sometimes it felt likes really was making her way blindly through something she wasn't sure had a rhyme or a reason.
At the core of it, she didn't know yet how to balance her need for independence with her need for love.
She slipped on the bikini underneath a sundress, and clumsily packed a big beach bag with things she presumed she'd need throughout the day.
Carelessly grabbing a pair of many sunglasses and hats that lay stuffed into her closet.
Her hair was long enough that she didn't really need to do much with it anymore, having grown out after an impromptu pixie cut in high school that nearly gave her mother a heart attack.
It was also already turning lighter form the Brazilian sun and she saw that her skin was getting darker.
She was slowly adapting to her environment, and she hoped that was enough for things to turn a little easier.
She sachéed into the dining room, where her father was already drinking a coffee and reading a copy of the New York Times which he somehow always has a fresh copy of on-hand.
"Bom dia," he said as he saw her walk in, keeping the newspaper in his hands and only moving his eyes. "Didn't see much of you yesterday, you were home right?"
Clementine knew that her father was doing his best to be nonchalant but was still clearly concerned, and probably would be for a while.
"Bom dia," Clementine said, grabbing an orange from the table, and focusing on peeling it so it would make it easier to talk to him, lying through her teeth she said "of course!"
She grabbed a cup and poured herself some black coffee, getting used to it every morning now.
Her father peered at her, she gave him a quick smile, and went to the garden.
"See you in the evening, going to the beach with mom!" She yelled over her shoulder on the way out, and she thought that her father was about to say something else, but she didn't want to start now so she kept going, pretending and knowing that it'd be better if she didn't hear anything.
The house itself was large and airy, perfect for the climate. And there were many little alcoves that Clementine found space to hide in, like a house cat, licking her wounds.
Between the garden and the house, there was a half exposed lanai and she sat there, resting, and drinking her coffee. Looking at the view from the hilltop, and taking a moment of calm before the inevitable chaos of the Rio streets.
