back to the only guy I’ve ever held hands with. Back before Lucas got sick. It wasn’t like this at all. He was kind of weird. And his hand was sweaty and gross. Obviously things didn’t work out.
Carson points up ahead. “My sister and I used to play under the pier when we were little. Not at night since the tide is so high, but my mom would bring us down and we’d run around the posts and hide from each other. Or we’d try picking barnacles off them with sticks. That was always fun.”
“Barnacles. Those weird little shell things, right?”
“Yeah. Have you never seen one?”
I shake my head. “Not in person, just in pictures.”
“I’ll show you sometime. They’re pretty weird, but I was obsessed with them as a kid.”
“Boys. Always obsessed with weird things.”
He laughs and squeezes my hand. “So, what did you do in high school besides swimming? Anything interesting?”
“Not really. What about you?”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s something you did.”
“Nothing worth mentioning. You already know I play guitar, swim, and take pictures. What about you?”
He shrugs. “I played a little football.”
I knew it. I don’t know how I did, but I knew it. “Cool.”
He smiles. “Not a fan of football?”
“Not really.”
“Makes sense. You still seem like a choir girl to me.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and chuckles at my expression.
“I’ve already confessed that I can’t sing.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“Really. I’m horrible.”
He chuckles. “I’d still like to hear you, even though you think you suck.”
“Not gonna happen,” I say. “Really. It’s pitiful. My brother is an awesome singer.” I realize what I’ve said and sigh. Was. Was an awesome singer.
“My sister’s like you say you are. She can’t sing at all. It’s hilarious.” His eyes widen. “Not that it’s funny that you can’t sing, I just like making fun of her .”
“Right,” I say, letting the sarcasm drip. “Like I said. No singing in front of you. Ever.”
“Ah, you’re no fun.” He nudges me with his shoulder.
I let go of his hand and stop to slip my flip-flops off and walk out near the water. I love feeling the wet sand between my toes. It’s kind of like a pedicure. Carson does the same but leaves his flip-flops on.
“How’s your foot?” I ask. I haven’t seen him surfing yet but the bandage is gone.
He shrugs. “Better. I still have the cut covered, just a small bandage though. It itches.”
“That means it’s healing.” At least that’s what my dad always told me when I got hurt. “I think.” I smile, knowing I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“Thank you, Dr. Nelson.”
I chuckle. “I’m glad to be of service.”
We walk in easy silence, enjoying each other’s company. There are a lot of people out. A few walking dogs on the boardwalk. There are several couples holding hands, like us, and a few on the beach tucked under blankets doing who knows what. I see a few kids with their parents and wonder why they aren’t in bed, but obviously it’s none of my business. I smile at a family as they walk by us. Everyone I’ve seen so far has one thing in common: they look so happy. So at peace with the world.
I stare out into the dark, catching the glimmer of boat lights every now and then. That’s what my life is like right now. Dark, but with a glimmer of hope on the horizon. I’m trying to move on. Trying to forget what I’ve been through, but I know it will take some time. At least I’m feeling a little normal again. Whatever normal is.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I look over and Carson isn’t looking at me but I know he’s been watching me.
“Not really.” I should. I really should talk about it. Maybe it would help, but it’s too new. Too fresh on my mind. I can’t do it. Not yet.
“Whatever it is that makes you sad, I’m sorry.” He glances at me, a serious expression on his face. “You can
Carson points up ahead. “My sister and I used to play under the pier when we were little. Not at night since the tide is so high, but my mom would bring us down and we’d run around the posts and hide from each other. Or we’d try picking barnacles off them with sticks. That was always fun.”
“Barnacles. Those weird little shell things, right?”
“Yeah. Have you never seen one?”
I shake my head. “Not in person, just in pictures.”
“I’ll show you sometime. They’re pretty weird, but I was obsessed with them as a kid.”
“Boys. Always obsessed with weird things.”
He laughs and squeezes my hand. “So, what did you do in high school besides swimming? Anything interesting?”
“Not really. What about you?”
“Oh, come on. I’m sure there’s something you did.”
“Nothing worth mentioning. You already know I play guitar, swim, and take pictures. What about you?”
He shrugs. “I played a little football.”
I knew it. I don’t know how I did, but I knew it. “Cool.”
He smiles. “Not a fan of football?”
“Not really.”
“Makes sense. You still seem like a choir girl to me.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and chuckles at my expression.
“I’ve already confessed that I can’t sing.”
“You can’t be that bad.”
“Really. I’m horrible.”
He chuckles. “I’d still like to hear you, even though you think you suck.”
“Not gonna happen,” I say. “Really. It’s pitiful. My brother is an awesome singer.” I realize what I’ve said and sigh. Was. Was an awesome singer.
“My sister’s like you say you are. She can’t sing at all. It’s hilarious.” His eyes widen. “Not that it’s funny that you can’t sing, I just like making fun of her .”
“Right,” I say, letting the sarcasm drip. “Like I said. No singing in front of you. Ever.”
“Ah, you’re no fun.” He nudges me with his shoulder.
I let go of his hand and stop to slip my flip-flops off and walk out near the water. I love feeling the wet sand between my toes. It’s kind of like a pedicure. Carson does the same but leaves his flip-flops on.
“How’s your foot?” I ask. I haven’t seen him surfing yet but the bandage is gone.
He shrugs. “Better. I still have the cut covered, just a small bandage though. It itches.”
“That means it’s healing.” At least that’s what my dad always told me when I got hurt. “I think.” I smile, knowing I have no idea what I’m talking about.
“Thank you, Dr. Nelson.”
I chuckle. “I’m glad to be of service.”
We walk in easy silence, enjoying each other’s company. There are a lot of people out. A few walking dogs on the boardwalk. There are several couples holding hands, like us, and a few on the beach tucked under blankets doing who knows what. I see a few kids with their parents and wonder why they aren’t in bed, but obviously it’s none of my business. I smile at a family as they walk by us. Everyone I’ve seen so far has one thing in common: they look so happy. So at peace with the world.
I stare out into the dark, catching the glimmer of boat lights every now and then. That’s what my life is like right now. Dark, but with a glimmer of hope on the horizon. I’m trying to move on. Trying to forget what I’ve been through, but I know it will take some time. At least I’m feeling a little normal again. Whatever normal is.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I look over and Carson isn’t looking at me but I know he’s been watching me.
“Not really.” I should. I really should talk about it. Maybe it would help, but it’s too new. Too fresh on my mind. I can’t do it. Not yet.
“Whatever it is that makes you sad, I’m sorry.” He glances at me, a serious expression on his face. “You can
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