It all started with the boogie board.
Tessa, Kate, and I were at the beach with Eli and Peter, plus some of their summer friends from around here. The waves were perfect—big enough to ride, but not so big that you’d get annihilated and end up with a bathing suit full of sand (been there, NOT FUN). I was beyond excited because I actually had a brand-new boogie board this year, not a hand-me-down from Eli that smelled like old sunscreen and teenage boy. It was mine. A neon pink and green beauty with a rad design that looked like the cover of this Lisa Frank notebook.
So there I was, about to finally get a turn to ride the waves, when HE showed up.
Not Peter. That would’ve been a different kind of dramatic diary entry. No, it was Dustin Mathers. Otherwise known as Eli’s random summer friend who just appears every year and acts like he owns the place. He’s fifteen, thinks he’s God’s gift to the Gulf of Mexico, and worst of all—he never brings his own stuff. Ever. Not a towel, not a frisbee, and certainly not a boogie board.
You see where this is going.
He asked me to borrow my boogie board, grinning his Dustin Mathers grin.
I wanted to say no. I should’ve said no! But…I didn’t want to be the bratty little sister. I didn’t want to make a scene.
So what did I do?
I said yes. I handed over my perfect, un-scratched, first-time-ever-mine boogie board to Dustin Mathers.
And what did he do? Did he treat it with respect? Did he use it for a few minutes and then return it as a normal person would?
OF COURSE NOT.
No, he took it out, rode one wave, and I could already tell he was goofing off and acting like a total idiot.
Did I march up to him and take it back? No. Because I am a wimp. Instead, I just stood there, watching helplessly as the stupid boy wiped out repeatedly on my board, dragging it through the sand, kicking it, probably spitting on it, for all I know. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse?
IT SNAPPED.
My brand-new, beautiful, Lisa-Frank-esque boogie board was now two sad, broken pieces, floating in the shallow waves like a warning to all future people-pleasers.
Eli was mad at the guy, but what good did that do?
Why am I like this?! Did Dustin Mathers buy me a new boogie board? No. He gave a half-hearted apology and went to go play football with his other idiot friends.
And I, Vivien the Spineless, just nodded and told him it was fine.
So here I am, sitting on my bed, boogie board-less and FUMING. I wish I was firm and strong. I want to be one of those super confident girls who just says no when she wants to say no. Like Tessa.
No more letting people walk all over me just to keep the peace. I mean it this time.
Okay, but let’s be real. If Peter asked to borrow anything, I would probably hand it over in a heartbeat.
So I guess I still have some work to do.
Love,
Vivien (who really needs a backbone. And a new boogie board.)
The words she’d read in her old diary that morning haunted Vivien the whole time she drove to Fiona Buckman’s house.
She’d called herself a doormat way back then? She didn’t even remember having those thoughts or feelings as a young girl. As an adult, especially after twenty-five years with Ryan? Yes, she’d frequently used the term and always hated it.
In fact, since leaving her marriage and starting over on her own, she’d vowed mightily not to be walked over, pushed around, or let people use her desire to avoid conflict as a way to manipulate her.
But…as a kid?Eesh. Why hadn’t she paid attention to that? Why hadn’t her mother drummed it out of her?
Because Maggie was the victor in those old conflicts.
These days, she had better sounding boards. When discussing that particular weakness with Lacey or even, at times, with her trusted brother, they both pointed out that Vivien came by her desire to please others naturally—a middle child, daughter of an uber-controlling mother, and a strong incentive to stay out of arguments.
