The Princeton Beach Club

PROMPT: Tell a story about a mother/daughter relationship

The Princeton Beach Club was Sea Bright’s premier destination. The membership fees alone separated those with wealth from everyone else. Located smack dab in the middle of the beach, everything about this little oasis outside the city embodied luxury.

A large infinity pool ran parallel to the ocean, while two cascading waterfalls flowed into the pool from each side. The pool was surrounded by daybeds, cabanas, imported Palm trees and four bars that served a variety of fresh food and drinks. 

Since she preferred pools over the beach, joining an exclusive beach club was Lexi’s idea. “A pool can never surprise you,” she thought, “you can always touch the edge and feel the bottom.” Something about the vastness of the ocean made her feel small. She wanted to know where she stood. No human being could ever fully understand the ocean; the same way no human being could fully understand another person.

Lexi sat in the shade of her cabana-taking in the waterfront views- when her peace was disrupted by an all too familiar stress. “Eddy did it again,” her mother, Rosalie, said, drying off with a blue and white striped towel, “honestly, this place is fabulous.”

Her mother’s accent always sounded thicker on the Jersey shore, like she needed everyone around the Verrazzano- Narrows Bridge to know she was never too far from Staaten island. She readied her side of the daybed, while her bangle set kept the rhythm with her incessant talking. 

“This place is good for you, Lexi girl. I can feel it,” her mother bent down, lathering her legs with everything but sunscreen. “Honestly, this whole town is romantic. Maybe it’ll help with that dry spell of yours,” she dragged out the “s” sound, like it was the big finish of her encore. Her mother turned around, revealing her bikini, and the dimpling skin her bikini was not hiding.

“Jesus Ma,” Lexi scoffed, “A thong bathing suit. Really?”

                “What?” her mother fired back, “it is July on the Jersey shore. What else am I supposed to wear?”  Rosalie took her seat next to Lexi, “I don’t know how I raised such a prude.”

                        “Well, your ass isn’t exactly peachy,” Lexi added.

                        “And neither is your mood,” Rosalie continued, already moving past her daughter’s insult, “what’s going on with you, principessa?”

            The million-dollar question, Lexi thought. She looked at a young mom holding her baby in the pool. Lexi’s last miscarriage was two years ago, but the grief was never too far. Their lives mattered. Lexi knew that. The pain connected them, like the further she sank into her soul, the closer she felt to her babies. On some level, Lexi knew she had to let go of that pain, but if she let go of her pain, what would happen to her babies?

She did not want to tell Rosalie Sabatino, the self-proclaimed sex therapist of Staten Island, any of this. Lexi’s mom had no credentials. She wasn’t paid, and her “clients” never asked for advice. Most of her mother’s unprofessional counsel came with lingerie recommendations and 50% off coupons at Amelia’s, the women’s boutique. Lexi and her brother, Luca, never quite figured out how she landed those discounts, but the Sabatino’s were known for their entrepreneurial creativity.

Lexi was careful with how she responded to her mother’s concern. She had to be. “I’m just tired from the move.”

Her mother’s over-sized Valentino sunglasses covered most of her face. Had it not been for the dimples across her knees and ass, Rosalie Sabatino could have passed for someone in her early forties. Of course, Lexi would never tell her mother that. Handing out compliments, especially to her mother, was not easy. If her father was not her father- God rest his soul- Lexi was not too sure what kind of relationship those two might have.

                        “And I’m tired of this…,” her mother raised her arms up and down, “this tragic version of you. You’ve stopped fighting. I miss when you challenged me.”

            Somewhere between Eddy’s volatile business ventures and losing her fifth baby, Lexi decided indifference was the best option for her sanity.

            The baby in the water splashed around in her mother’s arms, catching Lexi’s attention for the second time that morning. That baby was free and safe. No matter how far she sank into the water, her mother was close enough to save her. Five times, Lexi thought, that is how many times she let her babies drown.

            The baby’s laugh haunted Lexi, pulling her deeper and deeper into a misery masked by indifference. She stood at the edge of a precipice. On one side, she saw her babies in the pool, crying. On the other side, she a peaceful waterfall feeding a clear blue sea. The choice was simple. Save your babies or drown with them.

            Lexi’s mother must have felt the same way. “None of it’s your fault, principessa.” she said. “None of it, and that includes what happened with Eddy.”

                        “What isn’t my fault?” Lexi shot back, surprised by her mother’s observation.

            Her mother’s bangles stopped moving as she reached for Lexi’s hand. The tanning oil residue on her mother’s palm caused their hands to slide around a bit, but Lexi found comfort in her mother’s touch nonetheless. “I remember how much you wanted to be Luca’s mother when he was born,” her mother pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing her big green eyes, “and I thought to myself, this little girl is going to be a better mom than me.”

            The word mom was too much for Lexi to handle. She gripped her mother’s hand tighter. “Well, I’m not going to be a mom, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

            “Yet,” her mother reached for Lexi’s other hand, squeezing them with all the strength she had. The gesture was small, but it was everything she needed. “I have watched you love other people’s children like your own. I do not know why this pain is part of your journey, but I do know you were born to protect and love children.”

                        “I’ve lost five babies, Mom,” Lex’s lips quivered, “Not one. Not two…five.” Lexi always took a conservative approach to crying. One tear. That’s all she allowed herself to feel. Not because she was strong, but because she feared how much she might unravel if she let out anymore.

             “Listen to me,” Rosalie continued, “Donna’s having a psychic come by next week, and I think you should come.”

                        “No.”

                        “-before you say no,” her mother interrupted, “just think about it. She’s been right about a lot of things.”

                        “I’m a hard no on that, but thanks for the invite.”

                        “Then focus on what’s in front of you. Eddy. Your marriage. Be the wife you want to be. The rest will come, but nothing will come from futzing around. I’m telling you, baby girl. God has a plan.” Her mother leaned back, waiting to make her next point. If Rosalie wanted to say something she deemed offensive, her eyes narrowed, and her lips straightened. This gave her time to conjure up the right words. Blunt and blunter were her mother’s only two settings, so naturally, finding the right words was as unlikely as Lexi carrying a baby full-term.

                        “All men cheat. Any woman who tells you otherwise is lying to themselves. There. I said it.”

                        “Dad never cheated,” Lexi shot back.

“Your father was an idiot in other ways. He was a good man, but not smart. If it

weren’t for Eddy, I don’t know where we would be.”

                        “I’m trying to forgive,” she replied.

            The marriage between Rosalie and Anthony Sabatino was a mystery to most, especially their children. Lexi asked Luca if she thought their parents loved each other after one of their fights knocked over the Christmas tree. “If I knew what love was, then maybe I could answer that question,” Luca said. He must have been seventeen at the time. Lexi was twenty. That was the last Christmas they spent as a family. Her dad was arrested two months later.

Money laundering is a hard crime to prove, and her father could have been smarter, but Lexi did not like the way her mother talked about him. Fifteen years was a tough sentence. No point in kicking someone when they are down.

Her mother was right about one thing though. Eddy saved them. Soon after her father’s sentencing, Eddy swooped in and took the reins of Lexi’s off the rail’s life. He was handsome, wanted a family and had money. Lexi was beautiful, wanted a family, but was indebted to some bad people.

                        “Forgive faster. Need I remind you who he saved you from? Who he saved us from? Your father played no part in that. Your husband did.”

                        “I was there, remember?” she said.

                        “I don’t know if you do. You need to understand something. A mistress can give. But a wife,” her mother continued, moving her pointer back and forth, hard pressed to make a point, “a wife can take. They can take his money. His kids. His sanity, but in your case, you can take him back. Rebuild your marriage. Give that maid of yours some time off. Cook him some Pasta Fazool and get a little number from Amelia’s. You can make this work.”

            If Eddy’s cheating was the only issue in their marriage, then she would consider herself lucky. His after-work romps and weekend rendezvous with Becky felt like a blessing in comparison to their other problems, but her mother would never know about those other problems. No one would. Lexi played along, agreeing that adultery was the sin of all sins, but anyone who has truly been in love knows that the greatest betrayals are far more elusive; that is what Eddy’s business taught her anyway.

            Her mother made a point though. Her maid had been working around the clock, helping with the move, preparing their home and she deserved some time off. Besides, Lexi missed cooking and she enjoyed playing housewife. If the Cartier necklace was Eddy’s olive branch, then maybe the Pasta Fazool could be hers.

                        “Lex, hey girl!” a voice yelled from the closest bar. Himi continued to wave, as she walked toward their cabana. What Himi lacked in height she made up for in personality. She was bright and beautiful. Fit and Fijian. Perfect and petite.

                        “Oh, Christ,” Lexi muttered.

                        “Who is that hot little ticket coming our way?” her mother asked.

                        “My interior designer.”

                        “You joined after all?” Himi asked standing at the edge of their daybed, “isn’t it great, here? My husband and I love it.” She looked back at her husband, watching him talk to the bartender.

                        “This place is fabulous,” her mother chimed in, “Lexi tells me you’re her interior designer. I’m her mother, Rosalie. Such a pleasure to meet you.”

            They might have been the chummiest people on earth, acting like best friends after a two second interaction. Her mother told Himi she loved what she did with the place. Himi told her mother where she plays tennis, even extending an invite for one weekend. And of course, their entire interaction ended with an invitation to the bar.

                        “We’d love to,” her mother said, “doesn’t that sound great, Lexi?”

                        “One drink sounds good,” she added. This was how Lex handled social situations. She set clear expectations up front, so no one could sway her to stay later. Besides, she did not want to deal with her mother’s drunken stupors that night.

            The bar was a rounded Tiki hut. Twelve barstools circled the center and one bartender stood in the middle. Her name was Lyssie, and her outfit made a thong bikini look modest. Her blonde hair was tied in a bun that rested an inch above her forehead, and it bobbed around as much as her fake tits. Lyssie’s Bud light bikini only covered the “censored” parts of her body, but every so often, her nipple peeped out to say hi. She looked like a worn-out pair of heels.

                        “Oh, you’re back,” Himi’s husband said, disappointed.

Lyssie leaned into the bar, displaying her tits like cheese on a charcuterie board. “With new friends,” Lyssie said in a voice as fake as her lips, “What can I get you, girls?”

                        “Bone dry martini for her,” Lexi said pointing to her mother, “I’ll have a Modelo, and whatever those two are having.”

                        “Another Bud light, Patty Cakes?” Lyssie asked.

                        “Yeah,” he agreed, biting his lip, staring at the censored parts of her body.

                        “Your favorite,” she replied with a coy wink.

Himi stayed standing, passing a blank stare between her husband and Lyssie. Lexi knew exactly what she was thinking. Were they flirting in front of me or am I crazy? My husband would never disrespect me like that. Or would he?

Watching the wave of angst arch over Himi struck a nerve in Lexi. Despite their disagreement about the statement piece in her dining room, Lexi knew that Himi deserved better than this public humiliation.

                        “Patty Cakes?” Lexi asked, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m one of your wife’s clients. She does amazing work.”

                        “It’s Pat.” he said, stealing glances at Lyssie whenever he could. Pat looked like every other middle-aged man in Sea Bright. He was average in every way. Well almost average. His appetite for disrespecting his wife was beyond excessive, but he felt far too dull to be married to a woman named after the wife of a crown prince.

“Patty Cakes is a new one,” Himi sat down and took a sip from her margarita,

“This is Lexi and her mother, Rosalie. She and her husband built the beautiful house on Ocean Drive I told you about.”

                        “So, we’ll be seeing you a lot then,” Lyssie interjected, placing their drinks and her tits in front of them.

                        “Maybe,” Lexi replied.

                        “Not if they don’t get a better uniform for the help,” her mother attempted to whisper, but lowering a voice from Staten Island was like trying to stop the waves in the ocean, “I mean where are we? Hooters?”

            If they were anywhere else-in any other situation-Lexi would have shushed her mother. Rosalie said what was on her mind. Most Sabatino women did. Lexi was like her mother. At least she used to be. Life dimmed the flame of her causes for a bit, but like her mother said earlier, a wife can take back what’s hers.

                        “That house is a bit much. Don’t you think?” Pat added.

                        “Honey-.” Himi interjected, “I’m sorry Lex. He’s a bit drunk. It’s a beautiful home.”

            The truth was, Lexi agreed with Pat. And had she not been a witness to his disrespectful behavior, Lexi might have told him that. Yet here she was, watching a married man flirt with another woman in front of his wife. Lyssie put his beer on the bar, then she squeezed Pat’s forearm. His cheeks flushed with arousal, while he bit his lip longer this time. The image was so clear. Pat did not want to abandon his reckless, dirty thoughts. He wanted to act on them.

                        “Finish your drink,” Lexi whispered to her mother, “and do you have a penny?”

                        “What? Why?”

                        “Follow my lead,” Lexi added.

            Her mother found a penny in her purse and passed it to Lexi. “Thanks for the honest feedback, Pat. But can I ask you something?”

                        “Please,” he looked up from his pants, giving Lexi his full attention, “first, can you do me a favor and pass me the tip jar?”

            Confused by the request, Pat played along. He handed Lexi the small mason jar with a tip label on the front. Then Lexi made him wait. She chugged her Modelo, and as instructed, her mother polished off her bone-dry martini.

                        “Now,” Lexi said, with an empty beer in front of her, “I understand you think my house is too much, but don’t you think that this,” she looked at Lyssie then at him, “is too much? I mean, I’d bet a thousand dollars you have a mediocre hard on underneath that bar.”

                        “Who the f--.” Pat interrupted.

                        “I’m not done,” Lexi put her finger up to hush him. She looked at Lyssie, “and you, if you continue to talk to her husband or anyone’s husband like that ever again, you’re going to lose a lot more than a tip.”

            Lexi plopped the penny into the mason jar. The echoing sound of bronze on glass summoned the fighter inside of her. She forgot about this person. She missed this person.

Pat and Lyssie could not even look at each other. The shame of being called out for their disgusting inconsideration was too much for either one of them to handle. Pat stood up and left the bar, while a smirk found Himi’s face. Rosalie looked on with pride, while a subtle, yet familiar warmth touched Lexi’s skin. Take back what’s yours, she thought. Be the fighter.