A Beach Day With My Aunt Changed Me

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Aunt Andrea was one of my favorite people. Growing up, she always lived close to us. Sometimes, she even lived with us; those were times I really treasured. They tried to warn me that she was an addict and not a good person.

I thought they should look in the mirror before they started saying things like that.

One summer day, my dad planned to take us to the beach. He works for the post office and they were throwing a party to celebrate the conclusion of union contract negotiations.

When my dad told us that Aunt Andrea was coming to the beach with us, it wasn't a surprise. There were three of us and one of him, and he needed the help.

My dad lectured us about staying where he could see us. Or, at the very least, ensure we were in Aunt Andrea's eye line. The last point was very clearly directed at me.

I had a tendency to go off by myself. Sometimes, because I needed to think, and other times because my family was on my nerves and I needed to escape. The latter mostly happened during Dad's weekends.

We found where my dad's work was set up. He introduced us to everyone, including the lady who would later become my beloved stepmom. His coworkers seemed to be nice and welcoming, but I had my eyes on getting into the water.

Partly because I love swimming and partly because it would get me away from the group of people surrounding me. I began backing away, but stealth isn't one of my strengths.

Aunt Andrea noticed my exit strategy and followed me. She allowed some distance as I walked.

It was during this time that she would change my life in ways she could not even imagine.

---

Between the pavilion where the picnic was taking place and the beach was an isolated stretch of land. Aunt Andrea and I walked through it, not saying anything for a long while.

When she did speak, her words felt out of line. It was as if she were speaking to someone else entirely.

"Are you on drugs?"

"Of course not!" I said, not bothering to hide the offense in my voice.

Aunt Andrea must have decided that I wasn't being truthful or maybe she figured a lesson was in order. She rolled up her shorts and pointed to a hole in her thighs. I backed away from her, feeling sick to my stomach. A core memory seared into my brain.

"That's from shooting up. Drugs are not worth it. They are not worth your life. If you are smoking weed or doing something, let us get you help now," Aunt Andrea said.

Emotions filled her voice. She didn't believe me that I wasn't using drugs or even drinking. Which filled me with anger.

---

I didn't make it to the water. Instead, I turned and headed back to the pavilion. Aunt Andrea followed me, trying to talk to me, but I didn't answer her. There was too much going on in my head to have a conversation at that point.

My dad noticed something was wrong but didn't ask. Years later, he would admit that he was scared of what Aunt Andrea had done and that he wouldn't know how to fix it.

That night, I let the tears out. Not only did my favorite person in the world think I was using drugs, but she had proven that everyone had been truthful when they said she was an addict.

Something inside me changed that day. I went from live and let live to a hardcore anti-drug stance. No one could convince me that there were nuances or degrees of usage. Thankfully, I have come back around, but I keep my guard up with people who frequently smoke weed.

It is also the day my needle phobia was born. My parents didn't know the reason, they thought it was just a phase. It wasn't. To this day, I tense up if I have to have blood work done.

Before she passed, I often wanted to ask Aunt Andrea if she knew how much that day at the beach changed my life. The answer was likely no. She had no idea that was the day I lost my innocent love for her.