An Entitled Woman Took the Lounge Chairs My 8-Year-Old Daughter and I Had Reserved
I smiled back. “You look like the pool should be nervous.”
She giggled, then her fingers moved to the hospital bracelet still around her wrist.
“Should I take it off?”
I softened. “Only when you’re ready.”
She looked down at it for a moment.
“Not yet.”
We found two perfect lounge chairs under a wide umbrella near the shallow end. I clipped our towels exactly the way the staff had shown me, smoothing Mia’s towel twice because neat things made her feel safe now.
Illness had taken so much control from her.
I tried to give it back in every small way I could.
For thirty beautiful minutes, Mia floated in the pool with her goggles on, laughing every time water splashed her face.
“I love it here, Mom,” she said.
I nearly cried behind my sunglasses.
Then she asked for smoothies.
“We’ll be quick,” I told her.
We were gone maybe fifteen minutes.
When we returned, our chairs were taken.
A woman in a white designer swimsuit was stretched across my chair, her sunglasses pushed into her perfectly styled hair. A man beside her, probably her boyfriend, sat in Mia’s chair, scrolling through his phone like he owned the shade.
Our towels were in the trash can nearby.
For a second, I could only stare.
Mia’s small hand tightened around her smoothie.
“Mom?” she whispered. “That was our spot.”
“I know, baby,” I said quietly. “Let me handle it.”
I walked over carefully.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Those chairs were reserved for us.”
The woman did not even look at me.
“Reserved doesn’t mean anything if you leave.”
“We were gone for about ten minutes.”
