She heard commotion downstairs as she yanked the really old, really sleek, black bathing suit over her hips and settled it around her waist. She looked down and smiled. She would wear this thing till she died, and nothing else, ever. She loved what it stood for--- that she had actually attended normal high school for at least two years--- that she had been a normal teenager and had normal classes. And it was so old! It must have come from the twenties-- or thirties-- it was one piece, with rounded seams, and lining and it covered her from tank top sleeves to mid-thigh. But mostly this old thing really bothered Casey.
He wanted her little bitty figure clad only in strings and thongs. He wanted to show her off. He'd bought her so many bikini's she couldn't even count them, and she'd never donned a single one. This one did nicely, thank you! It would never wear out--- never be in style--- never attract unwanted male attention.
She heard Coral puffing up the stairs. "Honey, you don't want to go out in this cold! It's October, for heaven's sake, Tracy! It's not even safe!"
"Did Dad hear me?" She settled the straps and pulled the custom made wet-suit from its peg.
"He's trudging out there even as we speak, but I'm here to dissuade you. Please, honey, think about it. You really shouldn't be-----." She puffed to the door frame and stared aghast. "Tracy, what on earth? Are you still wearing that old thing? My mother probably wore that thing. It's black, nobody will be able to see you at night."
Tracy ignored her, grabbing her fins as well. "I've got a swimming buddy, a guy I met earlier. He's real nice."
"Guy you met? What? Where?"
"On PCH." She slipped into her sweats and sweatshirt, passing Coral on her way to the bathroom for a towel.
"Tracy Lynn, we do not go night surfing with guys we meet on the freeway.... Oh honey, please be careful! We just don't want anything to happen to you. Casey loves you, baby, and tomorrow I'm sure you can see Danny, why don't you stay here, and I'll make cinnamon rolls?"
Tracy tied her hair into a series of ponytails and finally flung the whole thing to her back, she stopped and smiled with a giddy kind of excitement in her demeanor. "Number one: I love you so much it hurts. I love how you do that-- nag me and care about me-- I need mothering, and you're the mom." She grabbed the wet-suit and fins off the floor. "Number two: Casey does not love me, he only loves himself. I know he's your sweet baby boy-- but we both know deep in our hearts he's on a different path than me. But we can pretend a little longer that he's my guy. Because, Mom, I will always be your girl." She reached out and pulled Coral's pleased, sad, embarrassed, strict face up to hers for a kiss and hug. Coral wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed her again for good measure.
"You are my little angel, Tracy. Please be careful."
"And make those cinnamon rolls, Mom. I'll eat them all this weekend."
*****
YOU ARE READING
Tracy
Historical Fiction"I have never kissed you, Trace, what do you mean?' "Yes, you have. Like on occasion. That first night we met, for Pete's Sake, Richard, have you forgotten?" He frowned. "Those have not been real kisses. Pecks, brushes, not real..." "Well," sh...
