Jennie snapped his name, and Matt went silent. Then she turned to me.
“You should know your place, Carol.”
I folded the paper neatly. “You’re right. I should know my place.”
Then I picked up my suitcase and went to my room without another word. People often mistake calm for surrender. They have never met a woman who has raised a son alone, buried a husband, and lived long enough to know that silence can be the beginning of a lesson.
People often mistake calm for surrender.
I sat on the edge of the hotel bed and listened to the ocean through the balcony doors. It sounded rude, honestly. All that beauty carrying on while my son and his wife turned me into an unpaid nanny with resort towels.
I thought about Jeremy then, my husband, who used to promise he’d take me to the ocean one day. He had a way of saying it like the trip already existed and only needed a date. Life had other plans for him before that ever happened.
I looked at the schedule again and laughed. My son and his wife had organized my exploitation in bullet points.
So I picked up my phone and called the one group of women who would understand both my heartbreak and my need for theater: The Flamingo Six.
That is not their legal name, though it should be. It is what our church friend group calls itself after one unfortunate fundraiser involving matching visors, too much sangria, and a karaoke rendition of “Dancing Queen” that changed the social landscape of our county forever.
Life had other plans for him before that ever happened.
Judy answered on the second ring.
“Carol,” she said, already suspicious. “Why do you sound calm?”
I told her everything. There was silence for three seconds.
“Text me the hotel name,” she finally said.
I did and slept beautifully after that.
Right on time the next morning, pounding started on my door.
First I heard Sam’s voice. “Mom?”
“Carol! How dare you?” Jennie shouted.
I opened it slowly.
Right on time the next morning, pounding started on my door.
Behind Sam and Jennie, spread across the hallway and bleeding into the lobby, stood six older women in matching flamingo visors, oversized sunglasses, and tropical-print outfits loud enough to disrupt weather patterns.
Judy had a karaoke machine. Marlene had a cooler. Patty had somehow found maracas before breakfast.
The lobby had gone quiet. Everybody sensed a show.
Judy pointed at Sam and Jennie. “Which one of you invited your own mother here as unpaid labor?”
Somewhere behind the front desk, a receptionist made a choking sound she disguised as a cough.
“You invited them?” Jennie turned on me.
“You said I should know my place,” I replied. “I thought I might enjoy it better with company.”
“Which one of you invited your own mother here as unpaid labor?”
My grandchildren, appearing in various stages of breakfast stickiness, looked absolutely delighted. Brad immediately attached himself to Marlene’s tote bag because it contained crackers.
Susie gasped, “Grandma, your friends are amazing!”
Matt, who had looked worried since the drive down, smiled for the first time.
Judy clapped her hands. “Ladies, to the pool!”
Within 10 minutes, 80s music was blasting, Marlene was leading water aerobics with the authority of a naval captain, and random tourists were joining in. Sam ended up chasing Brad around the pool deck while sweating through his shirt.
“Move those young hips, Sammy!” Judy yelled.
Sam went red so fast it looked like the Florida sun had singled him out personally.
Within 10 minutes, 80s music was blasting.
Breakfast got worse for Sam and Jennie and better for me.
At the buffet, Patty loudly asked, “Does the all-inclusive package always include childcare by a grandmother, or is that an upgrade?”
Marlene put a hand to her chest. “Oh dear! I thought this was a family vacation, not a childcare conference.”
Nearby guests looked over so quickly.
Meanwhile, the children had already decided that six senior women with no respect for social fear were more interesting than anything their parents had planned.
Susie learned to fold napkins into swans. Matt played cards and laughed so hard milk came out of his nose. Brad started calling Patty “Captain Judy” even though Patty’s name was not Judy, and nobody corrected him because joy is not required to be accurate.
Breakfast got worse for Sam and Jennie and better for me.
Any time Sam or Jennie asked me to step in, a Flamingo appeared instantly.
“Sorry,” Marlene would say. “Carol has seashell therapy.”
“Can’t,” Judy added once. “She’s double-booked for margarita yoga.”
At one point, Sam was carrying three beach bags, a stroller, and one shrieking child while Patty’s sister Brenda called out, “Oh look, he finally discovered parenting!”
The pool deck erupted. Jennie looked like she wanted the earth to swallow her whole.