the back and forth sun and water thing and then I fall asleep under a palm tree for what turns out to be close to two hours and I wake up wet and hot and I run into the ocean right past a fuzzy-gray-haired black man who looks just like—I’m not kidding—the Creature from the Black Lagoon, without the scales and fins of course, and he is standing in water just deep enough to cover what appears to be a protrusion of extra skin in front of him and I assume he’s blind because of the way his eyes are sort of crossing.
“Feels good, doesn’t it,” he says, and since I’m the only one in the water I assume he has to be talking to me.
“It sure does,” I say and go on out a little further, do a few laps and my underwater ritual and then I head back to what is now clearly a deserted beach. It is siesta time for most of the drunks or people like me who get zapped from lying out in the sun all day. The old man is now sitting on the lounge chair right next to mine and I’m thinking I hope this motherfucker is blind and it would be nice if he were also deaf but be nice Stella he is old he could be your father but he is not.
As I come out of the water I can see now that he is not blind because his eyes are without a doubt now hungrily searching my body for some lost treasure or something. He should stop before I get sick. I grab my towel and wrap it around myself, hiding everything I can. I take another towel and begin to pat exposed parts dry.
“Hi, I’m Nate McKenzie and you are. . .”
“Stella Payne.”
“How many days you here for?”
“Six and a half more,” I say, gathering up my Walkman books towels.
“Me too. This is my eighth time here in the last three years.”
I want to say, And am I supposed to care? Instead I just nod.
“Yep. Retired from the air force a few years back. Live right outside Pittsburgh but I love it down here.”
I am reaching inside my tote trying to find my shorts because I don’t like the way his eyes feel on my body.
“You been over to the nude beach yet?”
“Excuse me?” I say, turning toward him now. The first thing I notice are those bunions on his rooster-like feet and then that there is blood dripping down the front of his bow legs where he apparently has cut himself and I’m wondering if he’s aware of it. “Do you realize you’re bleeding?”
He looks down over his swollen stomach. “Yeah, fell off a bicycle today. It’s all right. Have you?”
“No I have not been to the nude beach. Why? Have you?” What is he getting at? He reminds me of a dirty old man who probably has to pay for all the pussy he gets. As I look more closely I realize he’s not really ugly but far from appealing and there is something vulgar about him. I think it’s his mouth, which kind of looks like a fish’s—like it stays wet and half open all the time.
“Yeah,” he’s saying like he’s reminiscing or something, and then he comes back to the here and now. “This is my first time at this beach actually. You should come over to the nude beach. I think you’d like it.”
“I have no desire to go to the nude beach.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t imagine getting any real gratification or pleasure prancing around in front of a bunch of white folks and dirty old men in particular with my clothes off and besides that I wouldn’t want to give white men the pleasure of seeing my black body considering they used to rape us when we were slaves or did you forget about that little part of our history?”
He wipes his brow as if to say, Damn, you didn’t have to get all deep on me. But then, being the whore that I guessed he was, he says, “Why don’t you come over there with me?”
Before I throw up I say, “I have to return my towels and I’m going over by the pool to get a drink so maybe I’ll see you later, Nate.”
“Wait,” he says, struggling to get up. “I’ll have one with you.”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
When I get to the pool I am both delighted
“Feels good, doesn’t it,” he says, and since I’m the only one in the water I assume he has to be talking to me.
“It sure does,” I say and go on out a little further, do a few laps and my underwater ritual and then I head back to what is now clearly a deserted beach. It is siesta time for most of the drunks or people like me who get zapped from lying out in the sun all day. The old man is now sitting on the lounge chair right next to mine and I’m thinking I hope this motherfucker is blind and it would be nice if he were also deaf but be nice Stella he is old he could be your father but he is not.
As I come out of the water I can see now that he is not blind because his eyes are without a doubt now hungrily searching my body for some lost treasure or something. He should stop before I get sick. I grab my towel and wrap it around myself, hiding everything I can. I take another towel and begin to pat exposed parts dry.
“Hi, I’m Nate McKenzie and you are. . .”
“Stella Payne.”
“How many days you here for?”
“Six and a half more,” I say, gathering up my Walkman books towels.
“Me too. This is my eighth time here in the last three years.”
I want to say, And am I supposed to care? Instead I just nod.
“Yep. Retired from the air force a few years back. Live right outside Pittsburgh but I love it down here.”
I am reaching inside my tote trying to find my shorts because I don’t like the way his eyes feel on my body.
“You been over to the nude beach yet?”
“Excuse me?” I say, turning toward him now. The first thing I notice are those bunions on his rooster-like feet and then that there is blood dripping down the front of his bow legs where he apparently has cut himself and I’m wondering if he’s aware of it. “Do you realize you’re bleeding?”
He looks down over his swollen stomach. “Yeah, fell off a bicycle today. It’s all right. Have you?”
“No I have not been to the nude beach. Why? Have you?” What is he getting at? He reminds me of a dirty old man who probably has to pay for all the pussy he gets. As I look more closely I realize he’s not really ugly but far from appealing and there is something vulgar about him. I think it’s his mouth, which kind of looks like a fish’s—like it stays wet and half open all the time.
“Yeah,” he’s saying like he’s reminiscing or something, and then he comes back to the here and now. “This is my first time at this beach actually. You should come over to the nude beach. I think you’d like it.”
“I have no desire to go to the nude beach.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t imagine getting any real gratification or pleasure prancing around in front of a bunch of white folks and dirty old men in particular with my clothes off and besides that I wouldn’t want to give white men the pleasure of seeing my black body considering they used to rape us when we were slaves or did you forget about that little part of our history?”
He wipes his brow as if to say, Damn, you didn’t have to get all deep on me. But then, being the whore that I guessed he was, he says, “Why don’t you come over there with me?”
Before I throw up I say, “I have to return my towels and I’m going over by the pool to get a drink so maybe I’ll see you later, Nate.”
“Wait,” he says, struggling to get up. “I’ll have one with you.”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
When I get to the pool I am both delighted
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