Ms. Alvarez came over to us.
“I am deeply sorry,” she said. “This should never have happened.”
“You don’t need to apologize for another guest’s behavior,” I replied.
“I am apologizing because our staff should have noticed sooner.”
Daniel handed me the blue box.
Inside were our tags and towel clips.
“We replaced the towels,” he said. “Those are waiting for you.”
He pointed toward a private cabana beside the shallow end.
It had a sofa, two padded lounge chairs, a small refrigerator, and curtains that could be closed for shade.
“That cabana is yours for the rest of the day,” Ms. Alvarez said. “Lunch and drinks are included.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary.”
“I know it isn’t,” she replied. “But we would like Mia’s memory of this resort to include something better than what happened twenty minutes ago.”
Mia looked at the cabana.
“Does it have popsicles?”
Daniel crouched beside her.
“It has three kinds.”
“What kinds?”
“Strawberry, orange, and blue raspberry.”
Mia considered this seriously.
“I think blue raspberry tastes like melted crayons.”
Daniel nodded.
“That is the most accurate description I have ever heard.”
She giggled.
He smiled at her hospital bracelet.
“My younger sister had one of those when she was a child,” he said.
Mia looked at him.
“Was she sick?”
“She was. She had treatments too.”
“Is she okay now?”
“She is twenty-six years old, and she runs marathons.”
Mia’s eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Really. Though I think swimming is more fun.”
Mia turned to me.
“Can I go back in the pool?”
“As soon as we move our things.”
The family who had shared their shade helped carry our bags to the cabana.
Their daughter, a girl around Mia’s age named Sophie, followed us.
“Do you want to play with my diving rings?” Sophie asked.
Mia hesitated.
“I can’t swim very fast.”
“That’s okay. I can’t throw very straight.”
Within minutes, the two girls were standing together in the shallow end.
Sophie tossed colorful rings into the water while Mia searched for them. At first, Mia moved cautiously, protecting the small medical port scar near her chest even though it was covered.
Then she forgot to be cautious.
She splashed Sophie.
Sophie splashed her back.
Soon they were laughing so loudly that several adults turned and smiled.
I sat beneath the cabana’s shade and watched my daughter become exactly what she had asked to be.
A normal kid.
Not a patient.
Not an inspiration.
Not a fragile child everyone needed to protect.
Just Mia.
