I Do Regret More Than I Admit

I’d attended a funeral that was more joyful than we were as we carried our boxes to our rooms. Even the song I’d heard Abby humming when I came downstairs for another load sounded sad.

I stood in the living room, looking through the blinds. The sun was going down. I found that sad as well. Our first big night on our own, without our parents, the start of our exciting independent island girl summer...It was nothing like I’d expected.

I was beginning to except that maybe, just maybe, I’d been selfish to expect to have my aunt’s bedroom all summer. It was the best room in the house. Without a doubt. But Abby and Amanda were the best, too. We didn’t have to agree on everything, but I wanted our arguments to be over something that really mattered-not something as small as sleeping arrangements. I didn’t want to be sad or missing my friends before we’d even left for college.

I was frightened to think that in only three months, I’d be separated from them. We were all going to different universities in the fall. This summer was our last chance to be totally devoted to one another, to share our dreams, to start preparing for the bright future that all the graduation speeches were about.

“What are we doing?” I shouted. “Why are we unpacking while the sun is still out? This is insane! Let’s go walk on the beach!”

Amanda ran down the stairs, laughing. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Me too,” Abby said as she came out of my aunt’s bedroom.

Be nice, I told myself. It was her room not my aunts. For a month. She was coming out of her room.

I grabbed the keys out of my backpack and stuffed them into the back pocket of my shorts. We each had a key to the house – not that I thought we’d ever be separated, but if something came up, we’d be prepared. Like one of us walking on the beach while the other two were napping or ... well anything. “Be prepared” was my motto.

Although I certainly hadn’t been prepared for Abby to want the bedroom that I wanted. But this summer was also a summer of learning to adjust. I’d be sharing a dorm room with a complete stranger. Surely I could share a beach house with my friends.

“Let’s go!” I exclaimed.

We’d turned for the door. A cell phone chirped out a part of the song Crazy Little Thing Called Love. That had to be Abby’s.

Sure enough.

“Hold on, that’s mine.” Abby said. She ran back into her bedroom.

“Hi!” I heard her exclaim. “I’m so glad you called.”

She appeared by the doorway. “Just a sec,” she said into the phone. She looked at us, pleading for understanding with her violet eyes. “It’s Shawn. I’ll catch up with you.”

Then she disappeared back into the bedroom.

I looked at Amanda. “I guess it’s just you and me, girlfriend.”

We headed down the stairs. I opened the door, and we stepped outside. I was hit by the smell of the sea. Not completely pleasant, but not totally disgusting. I could smell fish and salt and brine.

Amanda picked up an old metal bucket that was sitting by the door.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“I want to decorate my room with seashells. That’s about the only souvenir I’ll be able to afford this summer.”

“Your money might go farther than you think. I’ve worked up a budget for us. But I’ll wait for tomorrow to show you. I don’t want Abby going ballistic because I made a plan.”

I was expecting to major in business. I loved figuring out budgets, working with columns of numbers, especially when those numbers translated into money.

“We’re all in this together,” Amanda said. “We have to keep things fair. And you’re the one who aced math.”

“Still, we can talk about it tomorrow. And how we want to divide the chores. There’s probably a hundred things I haven’t thought of.”

“Relax, Amber. Everything will be fine.”

I wanted it to be. I really did. But I couldn’t help feeling responsible. After all, this had all been my idea.

I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my shorts and started walking along the sand packed road toward the beach. Amanda was walking beside me, the bucket swinging, occasionally clanging as it bumped against her leg. She was the shortest of the group, so I shortened my strides so she could keep up more easily. It was a habit I fell into naturally.

I could see the sand dunes in the distance. Beyond them, the brown waves rolled onto the shore. Here the water wasn’t blue and clear, like I’d heard it was on tropical islands. Far out in the distance, it looked blue, but near the shore it was brown. Not dirty or polluted. Just brown.

“I can look out my window and see the dolphins jumping in the bay. How cool is that?” Amanda asked.

Amanda had graciously taken the bedroom that had two single beds in it. It faced the bay. I’d taken the bedroom that faced the ocean – mostly because it had a double bed, whale the last bedroom had bunk beds. Bunk beds felt too much like summer camp.

“Very cool,” I said. “Whenever I stay here, I like to leave the windows open and have the breeze blow the curtains. It’s so peaceful.”

The house did have air-conditioning, but unless the day was really hot, I preferred not using it. It would also lower the electric bill.

“It was so nice of your aunt to let us have the house,” She said.

I realized it was the first time someone actually acknowledged my aunt’s generosity.

“She’s a really nice person,” I told her. “Every time I walk into that house, I feel like she’s hugging me. I know that sound silly - ”

“No, It doesn’t. I feel the same way whenever I go to someone in my family’s house. There’s just something about a house when people have lived in it for a long time. Like it has absorbed their personalities or something.”

“I’ve always loved spending time out here, Manda. It’s peaceful and calm. Don’t you think it’s relaying?”

“Defiantly. There’s just something about the salt air and the breeze. Makes me feel like we’re on a permanent vacation.”

“That feeling will go away tomorrow, though, when we start working.”

Little did I know how much it would change.