She walked through the frame, shutting the spotless glass door behind her. The wind swept through her hair, tussling the long black strands. They sent a chill down her spine as they touched her bare back. Her bronze skin glistened in the June sun.
She skipped lightly onto the stepping stones. Her painted toes touched down on the hot, gray stone. She'd never fancied herself graceful but Brittany had set her straight saying she floated like a butterfly.
She missed her Brit-Brit and how superficially stupid she seemed on the outside. Santana knew though. She saw the child-like spark behind Brittany's blue eyes. Her innocence only went so far and where it ended the smart, adult-like part of her started. No one ever saw that part but Santana.
She thought of Brittany's last words to her as she pulled on the string connected to her pink float. They were a solemn "I love you. Don't let the lake bunnies get to you." She had almost asked Brit what lake bunnies were, but had decided against it, knowing listening to Brittany ramble on would just make her cry. So she had left for the summer, with out saying "I love you" even though she had desperately wanted to.
She sighed with nostalgia as she put her left foot onto the float and climbed cat-like onto it. She pushed off from the out dated wood dock. The float sailed as far as its rope would let it. Santana laid there for a while, absorbing the sun. She hoped to be as dark Maria, her father's maid.
She scoffed at her subconscious mention of her father. He was tall and had once been handsome. Years of work had caused him stress lines on his dark face, and the liquor he'd used to get away from it had given his stomach a bulge. He had let himself go when he'd separated from her mother.
That was the real reason she'd scoffed. Mr. Lopez had packed up in the middle of the night when she was ten. There was no fight, or big dramatic exit. Nor was there a good-bye. He had just left, suit case in hand. He'd come to Maine, built a new life with new, younger women, and bought a beautiful lake house. But there was always an underlying sadness on both her parent's face making her wonder what exactly had forced the wedge between them.
Was it money? No, he was a doctor, money had never been an issue. Was there another woman? No, he had always seemed completely devoted as a husband. Or was it her? That had been Santana's worst fear. Sure had never been the perfect child. She had always been a handful. They'd always disagreed on how to punish her. For years, Santana had been resigned to the theory that it had been her that had caused her parents' divorce.
Santana's eyes were closed. She was relying on her other senses to give her a view of the world around her. This float had been her sanctuary for the last month. She had spent hours at a time on it. Every once in a while she just sleep there, allowing time to pass by in mere minutes. The best part was when she'd wake up to find she'd been there for hours.
Time seemed to pass by so slow at her father's house. She hated it. Santana never wanted to stop. She found her favorite times were the ones that passed by like lightning. When time went by as slow as it did, it gave her time to think.
She hated being left alone to her thoughts. They were too scary, too real for her to face. She hated feeling like she was just a scared little girl, still afraid of the monsters under the bed.
Santana let her hand drop into the warm water. Her fingertips created little ripples as she floated. Life there was just too peaceful, too perfect. She smiled at herself. She knew she complained too much.
"Señorita Lopez!" she heard Maria call, her thick accent lacing her words heavily. She groaned and didn't answer, pretending not to hear, or to be asleep, or dead. Whatever convinced Maria worked for her.
She called me three times, each time her voice betting closer. Finally she stood on the dock. Santana came to the realization she could no longer ignore her. She sat up groggily. "What is it, Maria?" She asked, opening my eyes to the harsh light of the real world.
"Your father wants you to start getting ready for the dinner, tonight," she yelled even though she was only about ten yards away.
She frowned at the thought of the dinner. Every year her father held a grand dinner party "in her honor," or so he said. Really it was just to show me off. He also invited many young women he hoped to shack up with that night.
"Pull me in, will you?" Santana called, so I can get ready for a night of having to act nice around stuck up rich people, she finished in my head. She sighed and lay back down, enjoying her last few seconds of not having to listen to her father.