“Fricking pastrami on rye?” I finish unwrapping my sandwich and consider I should probably stop talking to myself so much. But there’s never anyone around. Bran’s up to his eyeballs with the shop, and Rayna is off at culinary school already. And here I am sitting on my ass on the sweltering beach, fully dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I still have another three weeks until I can get in the water, and I wish I could just sleep through it.
A group of girls a few years older than me strut by in their bikinis, not even sparing me a glance. A couple months ago, I could have had them eating out of the palm of my hand. Bran may think he knows what women like, but he forgets how they light up at the prospect of a free private diving lesson. All I have to do is mention the possibility of a dolphin sighting and they’re putty in my hands. Or, they were. Now I’m just some guy on the beach eating a free sandwich and feeling sorry for himself.
I drop my lunch back down on the towel and direct my eyes north. Two girls are coming my way, deep in conversation. They’re both brunettes with long legs and nice racks. One looks the same age as those bikini girls and the other appears several years younger. The younger one jumps in front of her friend and walks backward, heading directly for me. This gives me a nice view of her ass in her tiny blue bikini, so at least something is going my way today.
The older one suddenly tackles her friend to the ground a few feet in front of me and, damn! Two hot girls wresting is the best lunch entertainment I’ve ever had. This totally makes up for the sandwich. But they don’t see me, which is made clear when they reverse positions and roll right into my bad leg. My vision begins to blacken at the edges with the pain. Sometimes I start to forget how bad it can be, but it’s always there to remind me sooner or later.
I don’t even hear what the girls are saying, but I think maybe I mumble a few words. I don’t know; I’m too focused on getting the hell out of here before I vomit. The walk to the boardwalk is a marathon, but I make it past before losing the contents of my stomach in a bush. Just as well I didn’t get to eat my lunch.
The doc says I need to walk every day to keep mobility and teach my muscles how to support the new configuration of my trashed leg. I start from the house every day and make my way up and down 421, rewarding myself with an ICEE from Bob’s Corner Stop halfway through. Most days are Coke-flavored days, but I mix it up now and then with mango or blue raspberry if I’m feeling crazy. Yes, this is my life now. Walking on the beach is too hard, so I stick to the streets where the rows of condos and houses get posher and posher the farther north I walk. It’s not unusual to spot a Corvette or even a Ferrari now and then, but people who rent these places have so much money they don’t know what to do with it. I used to not mind the tourists so much, especially all the girls in bikinis, but they’ve lost their shine now.
Today is particularly hot, even for a June day in North Carolina, and my t-shirt is soaked with sweat by the time I reach Bob’s for my ICEE. It’ll hit the spot today more than ever. God, I can’t wait until I can swim again for exercise instead.
I know it’s her before I even see her face. Her ass is encased in the shortest pair of shorts I think I’ve ever seen, although they still don’t show as much as her bikini did yesterday. She’s in profile, swinging a bag of something colorful in her hand and smiling like the sun came out just for her. She’s got a carefree set to her shoulders and a spring in her step that makes her tits bounce. God, she’s fucking beautiful. I let myself imagine for one minute what it would be like to have her kind of sunshine in my life. Then I get back to reality and open my mouth to spew angry words she doesn’t deserve.
She’s not responsible for my darkness, but maybe if I dim her light just a bit, I won’t have to see what I can’t have.
“Go make me a turkey pot pie!” Her voice shakes with anger as I shuffle back in the direction I came, my leg protesting and the deepest scar on my shoulder burning. I’m skipping my ICEE today. God knows I don’t deserve it.
A few blocks down, my phone rings in my pocket, and I pull it out to see it’s Rayna calling. The new phone was my graduation present from Mom and Morris to replace the one I lost in the accident. They even sprang for the monthly bill, something I’m sure was due to their relief at me living long enough to get my diploma.
“Hey, Rayna. What’s up?” I force a lightness to my tone.
“I’m calling to take requests.”
My lips can’t help but turn up in genuine pleasure at that. Last time she came home, she brought some of the amazing stuff she’s been cooking at school. She claimed they were the “reject” batches, but you’d never be able to tell the difference.
“Oh, man, can you bring more of that brisket thing?” My stomach rumbles audibly at the thought.
“Sorry, we’ve moved on to pork.”
“Anything then. Looking forward to it.”
I’m not an idiot, despite my recent behavior, so I know she’s not calling about food. She’s checking up on me.
“So how are you doing, Milo?” She keeps her tone casual because she knows me.
“I’m fine. Tell Bran to stop apologizing, would you?” I wipe away the sweat that’s trying to drip in my eyes and smile again at the pause on the other end of the line.
“What do you—I don’t—Bran and I don’t talk much.” Rayna hurries on, “How’s your mom?”
The two of them are so transparent, but at least Bran doesn’t lie to me about it.
“She’s good. Now, promise me you’ll tell Bran.”
“Fine. If I happen to talk to him.”
I roll my eyes, glad one part of my body doesn’t hurt when I move it. “Thank you. He doesn’t listen to me. Just keeps saying he’ll never touch weed again and offering to do everything but wipe my ass.”
“Now that I’d like to—never mind. Eww.” She laughs, and it makes my shoulders relax.
Rayna’s always been one of the guys, so to speak, never shy about burping and farting and always up for a good dare. I’m pretty sure Bran’s been in love with her since the minute she belched the alphabet in eighth grade, but she has yet to reciprocate. He hangs in there, though, always hoping.
Leah, on the other hand, is refined, an athlete, careful with her body and everything she puts in it. She even had me trying vegan food for a while there, but it didn’t do a thing to make her fall in love with me, so I stopped. I’ve been after her for six months, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never see her again. And I’m certain I’ll never get another job guiding dives in this town. Not after what I did.
There comes that tension again and it spreads to my chest. Is eighteen too young to have a heart attack?
“What are you doing anyway? You sound out of breath.”
“Just following the doctor’s orders like the obedient patient I am. I’ve been walking so much I’m making a groove in the sidewalk.” I glance both ways before crossing at an intersection at my warp speed of molasses.
“Good for you. I’m glad to hear things are improving.”
I don’t deny or confirm that. “Coming home this weekend, I assume?”