Odd Mom Out by Jane Porter

bags into the backseat, climb into the car, and buckle up. Shey’s rented a cabin for the weekend, and we head there now, a slow ten-minute drive to the other side of the island.
    Eva immediately wants to go down to the beach, and Shey tells me to go with her while she carries our bag into the cabin.
    Wandering toward the lake edge, I hear the screen door bang shut behind Shey, and I tip my head back to see the towering evergreens sheltering the half dozen scattered cabins.
    It was beautiful in Bellevue, but it’s even more lovely here with the rustic charm of fifty-year-old cabins and ancient islands and lakes carved out of the Puget Sound.
    Because in summer, the sun doesn’t set until sometime between nine and ten; at eight p.m., the lake’s beach is still warm and drenched in sun.
    Eva’s standing at the edge of the water, wearing her favorite sundress—it’s simple and cream colored, with just a scattering of green ferns and leaves.
    There’s nothing fancy about the dress, but as she stands at the water’s edge, the wind blows the hem, and her dark hair trails down her back, and she’s laughing at the breaking surf, which is particularly big at the moment thanks to the wave riders and water-skiers out on the bay.
    Eva’s been watching some kids jump waves, and she’s caught off guard when the water suddenly rises and crashes on her legs, drenching the hem of her dress. Laughing, she turns to look at me, and I just smile, shake my head.
    She laughs again.
    It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her laugh like this. A long time since she seemed like a little girl. And for the first time in weeks, I feel some of the tension inside me ease. Eva’s going to be okay. Eva will find her way through the intricacies of girl friendships and girl power struggles.
    She will. I did. Shey and Tiana did. It’s part of life, one of those rituals called growing up.
    “I’m so glad you called,” I say to Shey as she heads down to the water’s edge with a couple of bottles of chilled water. “How did you know I needed you now?”
    Shey tosses a bottle my way. “Because I knew I needed you. I miss you. The city’s not the same.”
    We sit on the patch of grass before it gives way to pebbles and stone. I unscrew the cap of my water. “How’s work?”
    “Amazing. Incredible. We’re so busy. The agency just keeps growing. We can’t keep up sometimes with the demand.”
    “For pregnant models.”
    “For models that are moms.”
    I look at her, unable to hide my admiration. “I’m so proud of you, so glad you’re doing what you do.” With her agency she’s changing the way the world looks at women and helping celebrate the beauty of the pregnant woman. “To think it all started when you were pregnant with Harry.”
    “I didn’t want to stop working,” Shey answers with a slight shrug.
    And she shouldn’t have had to, but the agency she worked for sent her home, told her not to come back until she’d had the baby and dropped the baby weight, and oh yeah, don’t get stretch marks or ruin your looks or you’ll not have work when you return.
    Fortunately, her friend Liza had a better thought, and Shey went to work with her.
    It’s been ten years and some serious blood, sweat, and tears, but Shey’s now a mom of three and vice president of ExpectingModels, one of New York’s premier model and talent agencies.
    “How are you?” Shey asks. “How’s Eva? You sounded pretty upset earlier.”
    I sigh as I watch Eva dance along the water’s edge. “She wants to be popular. She wants to be part of the in crowd, and it’s not a very nice little clique.”
    “It never is.”
    “And right now, nothing I know, nothing I suggest, seems to help. Right now, being me seems to make everything worse.”
    Shey grimaces. “The life of a mother.”
    “But we’ve never had these problems before. My daughter once liked me.”
    “She loves you, Marta.”
    “She was screaming at me today, screaming at the top of