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of them.
    Uncle Rob barks with laughter and continues his story, “Well, I suppose people grow and interests change. What makes you think that she doesn’t still love it? She has a beautiful singing voice and that girl could cut a rug!” My face reflects my complete shock. Uncle Rob’s smile stretches to the furthest corners of his face.
    “Your mom, Uncle Rob and I used to go down to the Val Air Ballroom and listen to the bands that played there. There were dances, concerts, all kinds of different music.” When Tommy chimes in with his memory it reminds me of how long he has known my mom, too. “She always had them lined up to dance with her. We would spend half our night beating the boys off your mama with a stick.”
    Uncle Rob is nodding his head in agreement as he chuckles, “Good times.”
    “What happened? What made you grow apart?” At this point, my curiosity has bested my anxiety. I plop my elbows on the table and lean my face into my hands.
    “Well, when your folks moved to Florida, it was hard to stay close,” Uncle Rob murmurs. “Our lives changed and the miles just made it that much harder.” The vein in Uncle Rob’s neck flutters as he stammers over his lame excuse.
    “You mean when they started to do drugs.” I correct.
    Uncle Rob’s blue eyes swim with sadness—this is harder on him than I thought.
    “I’m sorry, that was harsh,” I mutter.
    “It’s okay, Beth,” his face softens with sympathy, “I’m just not sure how to answer that. I don’t know when the drugs started. You probably know better than anyone.”
    My breathing quickens as I think about the countless times my parents left me to fend for myself while they went off on one of their benders. I choke on angry words and consider my answer more carefully as I focus on the pain in Uncle Rob’s voice.
    Drawing in a deep breath, I compel myself to speak. “I don’t remember a time when there wasn’t drugs. For a long time, I just thought everyone’s family was like that. It was at least two years before I realized I was wrong.” My answer is a pained whisper.
    Gran’s arms wrap around me from behind; I never even noticed her leave her chair to stand by me. “Blossom, I am so sorry,” she coos, kissing the top of my head, cradling me against her chest.
    I have never told anyone about this part of my life. Keeping it secret gave me a sense of control over the uncontrollable; unveiling the lies leaves me painfully exposed. I close my eyes to try and pare back the panic attack creeping its way through my body when I feel Ryan interlace his foot with mine. A weak grin tugs at my lips as his simple gesture grounds me.
    “Blossom? I like it!” Ryan encourages a not so subtle change of topic.
    I tap my foot against his where they are still connected. I open my eyes to find the concerned faces of my family all accounted for. I want so badly to make them stop looking at me like I am going to shatter at any moment. It makes me want to try harder, be better for them. I direct my attention back to Ryan and his comment.
    “Don’t you dare,” I say, raising my eyebrow in warning.
    “That one belongs to me, Ry,” Gran chuckles, “she is my blossom.” Her hand drifts up to cup my face as her eyes sparkle with adoration. I am so lucky to have her. She gives me a quick kiss on my forehead before she stands. “Pops, you help me clear the table. These hanyaks did the dirty work.”

 
    Chapter 9
     
    The weeks pass quickly as I fall into a comfortable routine of schoolwork and family. Gran and I finished my last assessment test of ninth grade this morning; I am officially on summer break. This afternoon we are cruising up the river for a bonfire to celebrate.  There’s peacefulness, being on the water that is undeniably appealing. There are no pressing demands, just the lull of the water slapping against the sides of Pops’ pontoon boat as we drift along the current. My favorite river pastime is admiring the stately houses