Beach Daze - 1. Chapter 1

The beach is so often associated with serenity. Peace. Quiet. A whole number of other things the beach isn’t.

It’s clean enough, but quiet it is not. It’s loud and not just at a certain time of day, either. It’s loud all the time and certainly not your ideal place to go if you’re looking for a peaceful place to think. Even before masses of people arrive, the seagulls circle the skies above the water, squawking, adding their cries to the whistles of the wind, the beating of the tide. And when people do arrive, it’s chaotic. Don’t go looking for a place to be alone. You won’t find it. In the miles and miles of coast line, you’re lucky to get a spot on the beach three feet away from some stranger you’ve never met before and are likely, never to meet again. Kids run by screaming, kicking dirt onto your skin, just after you’ve applied your suntan lotion and it sticks. Try to wipe it away and it scratches.

The beach isn’t all ‘fun in the sun’, either. The tide comes in, almost angrily at certain times of day, and the wind whips viciously against sunburned skin, and it doesn’t feel good, the way a cool breeze might. The wind brings sand and lashes out at you with it and it fucking hurts.

It’s certainly not all it’s cracked up to be, and everyone that’s ever been to a beach knows it. It doesn’t stop them from going back year after year.

People are notoriously stupid. Not just some people. People in general are a very stupid race of beings.

Like beaches, summers are often associated with things that don’t apply, not really. Summers often bring to mind summer love and romance and all that jazz.

Jazz? I’ve always wondered what that word really means. I’m not sure, but I don’t think it really applies to ‘summer love’. Jazz sounds like a good thing. Summer love, is not that. It’s bad. It almost always ends and always far too soon. And when it does end, it’s painful. It hurts unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s a pain that no sane person would ever want to experience.

It’s not like people can claim that they didn’t know it was going to end, either. Vacations are just that—vacations. They end. Along with anything that is experienced during. Everyone knows it. And they know that heartbreak hurts.

And people actually seek out ‘summer loves’ anyway. Because people are not especially sane creatures as a race. They’re stupid, remember?

I blame that retarded movie The Notebook. Stuff like that never happens in the in the real world. You never find your life-long love on summer vacation. Especially if you’re just visiting from halfway across the world. It just doesn’t happen.

There’s one more thing. Summer love—it’s often blown off. People constantly act like it’s no big deal and it’s something that you can easily get over. Like the summer love was just a game of poker, intense and engaging. Like trying desperately to keep one’s ‘poker face’ on while at the same time trying your best to see what’s behind the other persons mask. When the hand is over, you’re upset that you lost a few bucks, but in the long run, it’s no big deal. Maybe you lost some cash, but at least it was fun while it lasted and it’s not like you’ll be dwelling on it even a week later. Yes, poker. That’s exactly what summer love is like. Right?

Wrong.

It’s a load of crap. Complete and utter bullshit. This is the biggest misconception of them all.

Because beaches sometimes are peaceful and quiet and nice. And summers sometimes are happy, fun, and chock full of love a peace and all that fucking jazz.

But summer loves that end? Those are not easily forgettable. They’re not something that you just get over. They’re not ‘no big deal’. It’s not so easy to up and move on.

Not for me, anyway.

Every summer, my family vacationed at the same beach in Panama City, Florida for no other reason than it was cheap. We didn’t have to pay for a hotel because Mom’s parents owned a small house, not fifteen minutes from the coastline.

It was a nice place. Small, but nice. The front yard had a nice rock garden and it was air conditioned. I got my own room and I guess the place didn’t smell that bad. If you liked mothballs.

On the plus side, the house was walking distance to the strip of ridiculously cheesy stores that lined the beach as well.

For the record, I’m required to call them cheesy to cover up the fact that I was bitter because I spent quite a few days just perusing the main streets looking in store windows and I couldn’t afford a single solitary thing inside. Not unless you counted the lame ass fake license plates with the common names on them that sat in the back of the stores collecting dust. I bought one just because I could.

I spent a lot a time at the beach too. I went there everyday without fail, despite the fact that I hated it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. What was a vacation on the beach if you never actually went to the beach?

After a week of torturing myself with the beaches and the ridiculously overpriced stores, I was bored out of my mind and ready to go home. Back to where I actually had friends to talk to that weren’t homeless people that sat on corners with cardboard signs advertising the fact that they were starving.

“You might try talking to people,” my mother said when I asked her to send me back home to live with my best friend, Keith, until she and dad got back. “It’s not that hard to make friends, Alex. Put forth a little effort.”

“I’ve made friends,” I shot back defensively but didn’t elaborate. I didn’t think my mother would be overly fond of the fact that I’d been socializing with people that might possibly be on drugs. I couldn’t imagine why else someone who weighed over two hundred pounds would stand on corners waving signs that said they were wasting away.

“I’m sure,” my mother said sarcastically. Mothers are not supposed to be sarcastic. “Why don’t you go to your cousin’s birthday party tonight? I’m sure you’ll meet a few people there to keep you entertained while we’re here.”

“Harley is a cow and I hate her,” I muttered frowning. “She also kind of spits when she talks to you. And she’s got range. God, I’m almost getting rained on now and I’m pretty sure she’s at least a few miles away.”

“Alex!” my mother said scandalized. Stupid. I’d said far worse things before. Like, I’d once told the priest at our church that Satan was my ‘home boy’ to get out of going to mass. My dad thought it was pretty funny. My mother bitched at me for hours.

I got out of mass though. Mom was way to embarrassed to keep going to church there.

“You’re going,” Mom declared suddenly and the grin that had been forming on my face as I remembered times passed vanished immediately.

I didn’t get told what to do. I mean, I’d already sort of decided to give Harley’s birthday party a shot, but Mom had to go and demand that I do what she wanted. My response? Glad you asked.

“Yeah fucking right.”

Oh yeah. I went there.

I also got slapped.

And I went to the party. It’s not like I was surprised. Mom always wins.

Harley was a rich bitch of the worse kind. She didn’t appreciate anything that she had and always wanted more. She was constantly going into my room and taking my things when we were kids. And she really did spit when she talked. Not just on t’s or similar letters either. She spit with every word she spoke.

I hated her and when I found her house packed with people for her birthday, I imagined she’d paid all of them too come and that she’d offered a hell of a lot of door prizes or something.

“Alex!” She said, grinning like a maniac when she spotted me. She ran up to me and hugged me.

Guess what? Harley smells like mothballs.

“S’up Hurls-ly,” I said, pushing her away. I never hid the fact that she wasn’t my favorite person. She just couldn’t take a hint.

She laughed. “You came,” she said. “Your dad said not to expect you.”

I shrugged. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

“Stop playin’, Alex,” she said, pushing me amiably. God, she annoyed me. Unfortunately, the people that I knew at the party totaled a whopping uno. Harley. It wouldn’t do to blow her off and go hold up the wall somewhere.

“Happy birthday,” I said, handing her the box containing the present Mom had sent me along with. “It’s a bracelet.”

“Uhm,” she laughed. “Thanks for telling me. That’ll help with the pesky surprise that I’m always dreading when I open birthday presents.”

I laughed. But only because she wasn’t spitting on me all that much.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of my friends,” she said, pocketing the gift and latching on to my arm, dragging me through the crowds of people in her finished basement. I tried not to look too skeptical at the word ‘friends’, but I was surprised to hear that she had any.

Harley introduced me to more people than I could count and by the time she was finished with me, I collapsed alone on one of the couches in the den, not caring whether I looked like a loner anymore. I laid back into the fluffy cushions, watching the party goers dance and laugh. I checked out a few of the finer things that Panama City had to offer, namely a cute blonde in a nice light blue wife beater and I wondered vaguely where Harley kept the drinks.

I was alone, pretty much like I had been for the first week of my vacation but I wasn’t bored. It felt good, being around people my age. Knowing that I could talk to any one of them with no problem whenever I wanted. First, though, I wanted a drink. I wondered where the hell Harley kept them.

“You’re new,” said a deep voice to my left and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hadn’t felt anyone sit down. Harley’s couches were fucking awesome, but that was creepy. I had a random flash of one of those tempurpedic commercials run through my head. You know, the ones where there’s a girl jumping up and down without tipping over the wine glass on the other end.

“No, I’m not,” I said, once I calmed down. “I’m seventeen, actually. But I’ve got excellent skin.”

Mr. Pops up out of Nowhere grinned at me but didn’t laugh. “It does look soft,” he commented nodding.

“I moisturize,” I said and this time he did laugh.

“Brett,” he said, reaching to shake my hand. He didn’t wait for me to lift mine. He actually grabbed it from my lap and shook it.

“Alex,” I said, trying not to appear as surprised as I felt. I was getting…I don’t know, like…vibes or something. It was weird and I definitely wasn’t about to put too much stock into it. I was used to being the only queer for miles. I wasn’t about to make any assumptions. It was a bigger city than I was used to. The people might just be…what’s the word? Tactile.

“Alex,” he repeated, nodding and drawing out the X in my name until it sounded almost like a hiss. “Cool.”

“Not really,” I replied. “You know three others.”

“How do you figure?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow at me.

“Everyone does,” I shrugged. He still hadn’t let go of my hand. My palm was getting sweaty and I was torn between pulling away before he felt it and prolonging the contact as long as possible.

Sue me. He was hot and if I didn’t know any better I would have sworn he was flirting with me. In any case, I wasn’t going to do anything that might seem rude, just in case he was.

“So, you know Harley?” he asked and he dropped our hands. Yes ‘our’. He hadn’t let go, but he was acting like he didn’t realize that little fact. I wondered if it was an act.

“Yeah,” I replied, swallowing. “She’s supposed to be my cousin or something.”

“Supposed to be?” he asked, and he actually looked interested.

I nodded. “I won’t accept it until there’s proof,” I said.

“She definitely doesn’t have your skin,” Brett said looking off into the crowd of grinding boys and girls.

“See?” I said, following his gaze. “I have cause for doubt.”

“Then again,” he said turning back to me. “It’s not like she’s your sister or anything. You can’t expect her to be at all similar to you.”

“Nah,” I said. “But everyone on both sides of my family have amazing skin. We’re born with it.”

“Or maybe it’s Maybeline?” he snorted.

I laughed. “Do you know where the drinks are?” I asked suddenly. My voice was starting to take on a decidedly unattractive scratchy sound. I wanted to sound as attractive as I was capable of. Just in case.

“Yeah,” he said and he dropped pulled his hand away from mine. “I’ll grab you one. Water?”

“Or not,” I scoffed. “Anything with sugar. And lots of empty calories.”

“Whatever that means,” Brett laughed.

I almost explained. Not quite, but almost. It’s hard to keep from being completely lame when you have more random facts than you know what to do with.

“Sugar. Blissfully unhealthy sugar packed soda. It’s what I want,” I said instead and I wondered if that was any better than explaining what an empty calorie was.

“Right,” Brett said, and shot one last grin my way before getting up and stepping away from me. “Got it.”

He went to get my drink and I waited for one of my smart assed friends to snicker and make some comment about how this definitely made me the ‘girl’ but it never came.

I missed my friends. Brett, however, could be a great distraction. I wondered if he lived anywhere close to me. He was taking a while with my drink and in the time that he was gone, I’d planned my entire summer with him. I imagined him coming to the beach with me and forcing me into the water that I’d yet to set foot in. I pictured him taking me to a store that I wouldn’t have to clean out the college fund my parents had set up for me in order to shop in it. And I thought about bringing him home with me afterwards. Inviting him over for dinner and sitting up watching movies or something while we waited for my parents to go to sleep.

I envisioned taking him into my room.

And then I had to stop thinking about it, and not just because he was back. My pants weren’t the type to hide any…accidents.

“Dr. Pepper alright?” he asked, passing me a can. “It was all that I could find in the cooler. Except water. And I’m pretty sure water doesn’t have any sugar. Last I checked, anyway.”

“It good,” I said and blushed as I flashed back to the very vivid picture I’d thought up of him on my bed. Good God, I had a very dirty mind. Especially for someone that didn’t get much action. Or any, however you want to spin it.

I hoped it was too dark in the room for him to notice it.

It was quiet on the couch for awhile. Brett and I just sat there, staring off into the crowd and it was definitely awkward, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I didn’t know him. I couldn’t talk to him about how Jocelyn and Seth were finally back together and it felt too soon to start telling him random stories about the life of me. And saying something like ‘what kind of music do you like’ just sounded like something out of a shitty chat conversation. It was just the sentence I needed if I never wanted to speak to Brett again. And I did. I needed something to do that summer.

But then Brett spoke. “Do you see the girl in that red wannabe shirt?” he said, without looking at me. I quickly scanned the crowd in search for the girl that he was referring to, glad that he was taking the initiative when it came to the art of making conversation. My eyes eventually locked on a small girl with a petite frame dancing with an even shorter guy in the corner of the basement. I looked a bit longer and found that they weren’t dancing as much as they were making out. Actually, they weren’t making out as much as they were dry humping vertically for the whole world to see.

“You see her?”

“I really wish I didn’t,” I said, forgetting myself. I really hoped the girl wasn’t, like, Brett’s little sister or something. I doubted it. If it were my little sister, I’d have beat the shit out of whatever little prick she happened to be with at the moment. I’d have put the fear of god in the little shit. Hopefully. If all else failed, I’d have told my dad.

Whatever. I definitely wouldn’t be pointing out her indiscretions to random boys at parties.

But Brett didn’t snap at me for my comment. He laughed and nodded in agreement. “I used to have a crush on her,” he said, face scrunching a bit as he shook his head. “It was back in fourth grade. She turned me down when I asked her to be my girlfriend. And the guy she’s with, used to pick on me. Neither of them have grown an inch since the third grade. I try not to be too happy about that.”

“It’s okay for girls to be short,” I commented, wondering what sort of crazy person would actually turn Brett down. He wasn’t the best looking guy I’d seen but he definitely wasn’t something you’d scoff at. I couldn’t really get a good look at him in the dark room, but he had a good smile. That much I could see. And he was…warm. He just gave off warm vibes and I couldn’t help but want to be around him. And I’d only just met him. I wondered if I’d feel the same once I knew him a little better. I wondered if I’d get the chance to know him better. His liking girls was disappointing, but he was cool. I was used to cute guys turning out to be straight. I wasn’t used to them holding my hand for any period of time, but whatever. Maybe Brett was just different. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed at all.

“Yeah, it’s okay for anybody to be short,” Brett nodded. “But if I’m going to be bitter, I have to find flaws somewhere.”

I laughed. “She slobbers,” I said. “And she’s got bad hair. She’s to skinny and I actually feel for that poor guy she’s with. The grinding is probably painful for him.”

Brett grinned. “Here’s to hoping,” he said taking a swallow of his Dr. Pepper.

It seemed like the thing to do so I took another drink from my own can before continuing. “His head is too big for his body and I’m pretty sure he slobbers too. It’s kind of hard to believe all that saliva is coming from one person.”

Brett wasn’t just smiling now, he was full on laughing. “Yeah, it is pretty gross.”

I nodded. It wasn’t that either of the two were unattractive. They weren’t. What they were doing was gross. Whenever I imagined myself with someone the way the two of them were together, I imagined it’d be quieter. Gentler. I had nothing against passion, but the two people standing in the corner didn’t look passionate at all. They looked clumsy. Uncoordinated. And it didn’t seem like they really liked each other at all. It was more like they were trying desperately to produce enough fluid to drown each other. It was disgusting.

“I’m over it,” Brett said after a minute. “Bitterness doesn’t suit me. Do you like apples?”

“Yeah,” I said, slightly jarred at the sudden change of topic.

“I hate ‘em,” he said, smiling. I smiled back, somewhat bemused. “What about corn?”

What the fuck was he doing? “Uhm, no,” I replied, slowly. “What’s…what are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Looking for something we have in common.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I hate silences,” he replied and it was almost out of place because the basement definitely did not qualify as silent. There were a bunch of different voices meshing together, blending until the words people were speaking no longer sounded like words at all, but like humming instead. Above that, there was music. But I knew what he meant. He was with me…and I was a shitty conversationalist.

“You don’t have to keep me company,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed and trying not to feel like a total loser. I didn’t need him feeling sorry for me just because I was sitting alone. “I’m good here,” I added.

“Me too,” he said, and there was that smile again. It helped with the cold pathetic feeling that was settling in my chest and stomach. Made me feel a little better. “I don’t want to leave unless you want me to get lost. I just wanna find something to talk about,” he finished.

“You want to talk about food?” I asked frowning and thinking maybe I wasn’t the only loser sitting on that couch.

“Well, no,” he said laughing. “But I’m hungry and it was the first thing that popped into my head.”

I laughed. “You shouldn’t always say the first thing that pops into your head,” I said, remembering the couple times I’d done that very thing on accident. I was sent to the principals office one of those times and slapped by my mother the other.

“I know,” Brett replied. “But the hunger thing…it’s kind of hard for me to ignore. I could really go for some nacho’s or something.”

“Drink your soda,” I laughed.

“You drink yours. You’re the one that wanted the damn things. I hate soda.”

“You didn’t have to get one.”

“Yeah, I know that. It was just…you know what, whatever, maybe I don’t hate soda, I’d just rather have a fucking pizza or something.”

“Cow,” I said.

“Nah, but I could eat one, if you’re offering.”

I laughed again. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”

“This from the guy that wanted a…what was it? ‘Blissfully unhealthy, sugar packed soda’?” He said smirking at me.

I raised an eyebrow. “Good memory,” I commented.

He nodded. “I’ve always had one. It annoys everyone around me. I can’t get anyone to agree to watch a movie with me anymore because I talk along with it, word for word.”

I laughed. Everyone did that, I was sure of it. Maybe not everyone could quote full movies, but I’d yet to watch a movie with someone that didn’t quote at least one line from whatever movie it was that we were watching at the time. I shared this opinion with Brett and our conversation turned towards movies and which were good and which were crappy and which were crappy but funny and so on. Our movie conversation eventually segued into a more serious one about jealousy or some shit like that and that conversation turned into one about our friends and that one into a conversation about our families.

There were hardly any breaks in our conversations…or conversation, I’m not sure whether it was just one with a bunch of topic jumps or many different conversations, one after another.

Who cares?

The people surrounding us slowly started to disappear, and when the last person exited, we were still talking. Not about anything in particular, though.

“Have you noticed that we change the subject every time the time changes?” Brett said, and I laughed, more because I’d been laughing for the past fifteen minutes than because what he said was funny.

We kept talking, about fucking potato chips, for fucks sake, both of us watching the digital clock on the end table as we did, and when the subject changed from potato chips to skateboarding, the display on the clock changed from 2:52 to 2:53 and we both started laughing.

We grew silent again and that had actually been happening more often as it got later, and while it had worried me at first, I found that Brett didn’t seem to mind it so much anymore. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was almost companionable.

I’ve met people that I hated on sight and ended up liking later. I’ve met people that I liked right away and ended up hating later. But I’ve never met someone that I clicked with so immediately. I’d never spent hours talking to the same person without getting bored and I felt like I learned more about Brett in one night than I did about my friends back home in weeks at a time. But I still felt like I didn’t know enough about him.

I was tired as fuck, but I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and talk until we fell asleep and Jesus Christ, my friends were right about me being a fucking girl…

“Alex,” Brett said, his voice sounding extremely loud echoing through the now empty basement, especially after the two of us had been quiet for so long.

“Yeah,” I replied softly.

“You want to know what else I like?” he asked. We were both laying back in the fluffed up oversized back cushions of the couch, our bodies turned slightly so that we were facing each other. There was enough space between us to fit another person, but it still felt like we were pretty close.

“What?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Sleep,” he replied and yawned as if he felt like he needed to convince me.

“Me too,” I replied, yawning as well. Yawns are contagious. Watch someone else yawning and see if you don’t end up yawning too. I dare you.

Brett nodded, “I don’t feel like getting up to call my parents to come get me.

“We could sleep here,” I said and wanted to kick myself, but the words were out and I couldn’t take them back. I watched him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

“My parents would kill me,” he said after what felt like forever. “I’m surprised they haven’t come ringing the doorbell already.”

Staying over wouldn’t really be a problem for me. It was Harley’s house…and we were related. As long as my parents thought I was with her, they wouldn’t worry about me til I called.

But I didn’t want to stay if Brett wasn’t going to.

“Yeah, mine would probably be pissed to,” I lied. I raised my arms over my head and stretched lazily.

I probably imagined the interested look I thought I saw on Brett’s face. Most likely.

“What the fuck are you losers still doing here?”

My favorite cousin was back.

“Hurls-ly!” I said, throwing my arms in the air.

She frowned at me, pausing in her tracks across the room towards us. “Are you drunk?”

“On Dr. Pepper?” I said skeptically.

“Wait,” Brett said sitting up, “there was alcohol at this party? How come no one told me there was alcohol at this party?”

“There wasn’t,” Harley said frowning. “My parents would freak.”

“Oh,” Brett said, sitting back. “That’s okay, then.”

“Alcoholic,” Harley said.

“Not even. But if I spent this entire party drinking Dr. Pepper…” he let it hang like that meant anything. “Besides, I could’ve gotten Alex here drunk and taken advantage of him when he passed out.”

He was kidding. So it was okay to joke back. “You wouldn’t actually need to get me drunk for that,” I laughed shoving him, playfully. “I’d even pretend to be passed out if it’d make you feel more comfortable that way.”

He laughed softly, his eyes drifting shut. It was almost cute and I was tempted to just let him fall asleep there. But I didn’t. I pulled out my cell and turned it on.

“Call your parents,” I said, tossing the phone into his lap.

He jumped. “Huh?”

I pointed to the phone. “Call your parents. For a ride.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “Right.”

He phoned his mom, and from all of the apologizing he did, it sounded like she wasn’t too happy with him but he was rolling his eyes, so I assumed it wasn’t too serious. If his mom was anything like mine, he didn’t have much to worry about. My mom could yell for hours and she could be a bitch. And she slapped me like it was going out of style. It was hard though, not to laugh at her when she did hit me. She was so clearly holding back. It was more a ‘love tap’ than anything.

I called my dad when he finished and the two of us said goodnight to Harley and went out to the porch to wait together.

I still didn’t know where he lived. Or what his phone number was—it didn’t occur to me at the time that it was stored in my phone because he’d just called his house. I wanted to see him again. And I grew anxious as we sat there, waiting in silence. He was the one person I’d met so far that I wouldn’t mind spending my summer with. I might even enjoy it with him for a friend.

“I’d watch a movie with you,” I blurted suddenly and he actually started at the sound of my voice.

“What?” he said.

“I’d watch a movie with you,” I repeated unable to stop myself. “I mean, if you wanted to. You said everyone else refused to, but I don’t mind if you quote the whole damn thing. And I’ve got a lot of movies. I’ve definitely got a few you’ve never seen before.”

I really needed to shut the fuck up. I hated it when I rambled. I could hear myself going on and on and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“How would you know?” he asked, grinning sleepily.

“I’m just guessing,” I shrugged.

“Alright,” he said nodding, and his grin widened. His mom pulled up then and I wondered if that meant he lived near Harley. It hadn’t taken her long at all.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, squeezing my shoulder, just a tad bit longer than I was used to before he walked away.

His car had just turned the corner when I realized I hadn’t actually given him my number.