She nods with a small smile, and for the first time, I feel like there’s some connection between us. “I am so fucking hungry right now it’s unreal.”
I laugh when she says that. “That makes two of us.”
I walk into the dressing room and change back into my clothes. When I walk out, I grab Sara’s hand and pull her up. “Come on.” I throw the clothes into the cart and turn toward the grocery section.
“Where are we going?”
“To the food section.”
We work our way to the bread aisle. I stop the cart in front of the boxed pastries. “Which is your favorite?”
Sara points to a white bag of mini-chocolate donuts. “Those.”
I grab a bag off the shelf and open it. I take a donut and stick it in my mouth and hand her the bag. “We’re gonna need milk too,” I say with a mouthful.
Sara looks at me like I’m insane, but she follows me to the dairy section regardless. I retrieve two individual chocolate milks and then point to a spot over by the eggs. I move the cart and then I sit down and lean against the long floor cooler that holds all the eggs.
“Sit down,” I say to her.
She looks around us a moment, then she slowly lowers herself to the floor next to me. I hand her one of the chocolate milks.
I open mine and take a big drink of it and then grab another donut.
“You’re crazy,” Sara says quietly, finally taking a donut for herself.
I shrug. “There’s a fine line between hungry and crazy.”
She takes a drink of her chocolate milk and then leans her head against the cooler. “My God. This is heaven.” She stretches her legs out in front of her, and we sit together in silence for a while, eating donuts and watching shoppers give us strange looks.
“I’m sorry if anything I said about your weight offended you,” Sara finally says.
“It didn’t. I just don’t like seeing you compare yourself to me.”
“It’s hard not to. It doesn’t help that I’m spending the summer on the beach. I compare myself to every girl in a bikini.”
“You shouldn’t,” I say. “But I get it. It’s weird, though, isn’t it? Why do people judge other people based on how tightly their skin clings to their bones?” I shove another donut in my mouth to shut myself up.
Sara mutters, “Amen,” right before she takes another swig of her chocolate milk.
A store employee walks by and pauses when he sees us sitting on the floor eating food. “We’re gonna pay for it,” I say, waving a flippant hand at him. He shakes his head and walks away.
Another stretch of silence passes between us, and then Sara says, “I was really nervous to meet you. I was scared you hated me.”
I laugh. “I didn’t even know you existed until today.”
My comment looks like it hurts Sara’s feelings. “Your father never talked about me?”
I shake my head. “Not because he was trying to hide the fact that you existed. We just…we don’t have a relationship. At all. We’ve barely spoken since he got married. I actually forgot he was even married.”
Sara looks like she’s about to say something, but she’s interrupted.
“You two good?” Marcos asks.
We both look up to find Samson and Marcos looking back and forth between us.
Sara holds up her chocolate milk. “Beyah told me to stop obsessing about my weight and made me eat junk food.”
Marcos laughs and reaches down into the bag for a donut. “Beyah is right. You’re perfect.”
Samson is staring at me. He never smiles like Marcos. Marcos always seems to be smiling.
Sara pushes herself off the floor and helps me up. “Let’s go.”
SEVEN
We loaded everything into the trunk except the prepaid phone. I’ve been trying to figure out how to set it up, but it’s dark in the car and the instructions are hard to read. I don’t even know how to power on the phone.
I’m struggling with it when Samson says, “Want me to help?”
I glance over at him and he’s holding out his hand. I give him the package and he uses his own phone to light up the directions.
He’s still working on it when Marcos parks the car on the ferry. “Coming?” Sara asks, opening her door.
I point to the phone in Samson’s hands. “In a sec. He’s setting up my phone.”
Sara grins before she closes the door, like Samson setting up my phone is somehow going to lead to a summer fling. I hate that it’s a goal of hers. I really have no interest in someone who has such little interest in me.
Samson has to dial a number to finalize the setup, but it tells him there will be a two-minute hold time while the phone is activated.
Two minutes doesn’t seem that long, but it feels like I’m entering into eternity. I glance out my window, trying to ignore the quiet tension that’s filling the space between us.
It’s so incredibly uncomfortable, I find myself hoping he’ll say something after only ten seconds.
After twenty seconds, I start to feel nervous, so I blurt out the only thing I can think to say. “Why were you taking pictures of me on the ferry today?”
I glance at him and he’s leaning an elbow into the area where the car door and the window meet. He’s lightly dragging his fingers over his bottom lip, but he pulls them away when he sees me staring at him. He makes a fist and taps it against the window. “Because of how you were looking at the ocean.”
His answer wraps like a ribbon around my spine. “How was I looking at it?”
“Like it was the first time you’d ever seen it.”
I adjust myself in the seat, suddenly uncomfortable by how his words drape over me like silk.
“Have you looked at them yet?” he asks.
“Looked at what?”
“The pictures.”
I shake my head.
“Well. When you do, feel free to delete what you don’t want, but I’d really like the memory card back. There are pictures on there I’d like to have.”
I nod. “What else do you take pictures of? Besides girls on ferries?”
He smiles at that. “Nature, mostly. The ocean. Sunrises. Sunsets.”
I think about the sunset from earlier and how he might have gotten a picture of me with it. I’ll see if Sara has a computer I can borrow so I can look at everything on the memory card. I’m curious now. “The sunset was really pretty tonight.”
“Wait until you see the sunrise from your balcony.”
“Yeah, I’m not waking up that early,” I say with a laugh.
Samson looks down at my phone after the call notifies us setup is complete. “You want me to enter everyone’s numbers?” He’s opening up contacts on his phone to Sara’s name.
“Sure.”
He enters Sara’s number. Then Marcos’s. Then his own. He does a few more things to the phone, then eventually hands it over to me. “You need a tutorial?”
I shake my head. “A friend from back home had one like this. I can figure it out.”
“Where’s back home?”
It’s a simple question, but it sets my skin on fire. It’s a question you ask someone you want to get to know better.
I clear my throat. “Kentucky,” I say. “What about you?”
His eyes linger on me for a quiet moment. Then he looks away and grabs the door handle, as if opening up a conversation with me is something he immediately regrets. “I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he says, opening the door. He closes it and walks away from the car.
I should probably be offended by his strange reaction, but I’m not. I’m relieved. I want him to be just as disinterested in me as I am in him.
Or at least as disinterested as I’m trying to be in him.
I look down at my phone and add in Natalie’s number. She was one of the few friends I had back home and I’ve been wanting to talk to her since last night. I’m sure she heard through her mother that my mother passed away, and if so, she’s probably worried sick no
t knowing where I am. It’s been hard for us to keep in touch since she left for college because I don’t have a phone. That’s a contributing factor as to why I don’t have a lot of friends. It’s hard to keep in touch with anyone when you’re technologically out of the loop.
I get out of the car and walk to an empty spot on the ferry to make the call. I face the water and dial her number, waiting as it rings.
“Hello?”
I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear her voice. Finally, something familiar. “Hey.”
“Beyah? Holy shit, I’ve been worried sick. I heard what happened, I’m so sorry.” Her voice is so loud. I try to figure out how to take the phone off speaker, but the screen is just numbers. I look around, but no one is near us, so I just muffle the phone with my hand to keep the call from disturbing anyone in the vicinity.
“Beyah? Hello?”
“I’m here, sorry.”
“Where are you?”
“Texas.”
“Why the hell are you in Texas?”
“My dad moved here. I figured I’d stay with him for the summer. How’s New York?”
“Different,” she says. “In a good way.” There’s a pause before she says, “God, I still can’t believe Janean is dead. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I had one good cry, but like…I don’t know. Maybe I’m broken.”
“Whatever. She was the worst mother I’ve ever met.”
And that’s why I like Natalie. She says what she means. Not many people are as forthcoming as her.
“What about your dad? Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve seen him? Is it awkward?”
“Yeah. It might even be worse now that I’m an adult. But he lives in a beach house, so that’s a huge plus. He’s married, though. Has a new stepdaughter.”
“Yay for the beach house, but oh no. A stepsister? Is she your age?”
“About a year older. Her name is Sara.”
“She sounds blond and pretty.”
“She is.”
“Do you like her?”
I think about that for a moment. “I’m still not sure what to think of her yet. I feel like she might be a locker room girl.”
“Ugh. Those are the worst. Any cute guys, at least?”
Right when Natalie asks that question, something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn my head and Samson is walking toward me. He’s staring, like he might have caught the end of my conversation. I clench my jaw. “No. No cute guys. But hey, I gotta go. Save my number.”
“Okay, got you.”
I end the call and grip my phone in my hand. I swear to God, he shows up at all the worst times.
He takes a couple of steps closer until he’s next to me at the railing. He narrows his eyes in my direction, looking at me curiously. “What’s a locker room girl?”
I hate that he heard that. I really do like Sara. I don’t know why I said that to Natalie.
I sigh and then turn, resting my back against the railing. “It’s what I called the mean girls at my school.”
Samson nods, like he’s processing my answer. “You know…when Sara found out you were coming, she moved to the guest room. She wanted you to have the better room.” With that, he pushes off the railing, walks around me and heads back toward the car.
I turn and press my hands against my face and groan.
I have never made an ass out of myself in front of one person so much in my life, and I’ve only known him for half a day.
EIGHT
It’s late by the time we get back and I get all my new stuff put away. These last twenty-four hours have been grueling, to say the least. I’m exhausted. Grief might even be catching up to me. And even though Sara and I shared an entire bag of chocolate donuts, I’m still hungry.
I go to the kitchen and find my father sitting at the table, a laptop in front of him and several books spread out over the table. He glances up when he hears me.
“Hey,” he says, straightening up in his chair.
“Hi.” I point to the pantry. “Just grabbing a snack.” I open the pantry door and grab a bag of chips. When I close it, I fully intend to sneak back up to my room, but my father has other plans.
“Beyah,” he says as soon as I reach the bottom step. “You got a sec?”
I nod reluctantly. I walk over to the table and take the seat across from him. I pull my knee up and try to seem casual. He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand across his jaw like whatever he’s about to say is going to be a little uncomfortable.
Did he hear about my mother? I don’t know that there are any people that connect them other than me, so I don’t know how he’d have found out.
“I’m sorry I didn’t go to your graduation.”
Oh. It’s about him. I stare at him for a moment, then open my bag of chips. I shrug. “It’s fine. Long drive for someone with a broken leg.”
He presses his lips together and leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “About that,” he says.
“I don’t care, Dad. Really. We all tell lies to get out of things we don’t want to do.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to be there,” he says. “I just…I didn’t think you wanted me there.”
“Why wouldn’t I have wanted you there?”
“I just got the impression that you’ve been avoiding me for the past couple of years. And I don’t blame you. I don’t feel like I’ve been a very good father to you.”
I look down into my bag of chips and shake them around. “You haven’t been.” I casually eat another chip like I didn’t just deliver the worst insult a child could hand to a parent.
My father’s expression falls into a frown, and he opens his mouth to respond, but Sara spills out of the stairwell and into the kitchen with way too much energy for this time of night.
“Beyah, go put on your bathing suit, we’re going to the beach.”
My father looks relieved by the interruption. He gives his attention to his computer. I stand up and pop another chip in my mouth. “What’s at the beach?”
Sara laughs. “The beach is at the beach. That’s all you need.” She’s back in her bikini top and shorts again.
“I’m really tired,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Just for an hour and then you can go to bed.”
When we make it past the dunes, I deflate. I was hoping more people would be out here so I could be invisible, but it seems the crowd that was here earlier dissipated and the only two people remaining are Samson and Marcos. Plus a couple of people out in the water swimming.
Marcos is sitting by the fire, but Samson is sitting alone in the sand several feet away, staring out at the dark ocean. I know he hears us approaching, but he doesn’t turn around to look at us. He’s either lost in thought or making a concerted effort to ignore me.
I’m going to have to figure out a way to be at ease in his presence if this is how the summer is going to go—him always being around.
There are six seats set up around the fire, but two of them have towels draped over them and beers on the armrests, so they appear to be taken. Sara sits next to Marcos, so I take one of the last two empty chairs.
Sara looks out at the water, at the two people swimming. “Is that Cadence out there with Beau?”
“Yep,” Marcos says flatly. “I think she’s leaving tomorrow.”
Sara rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait. I wish she’d take Beau with her.”
I don’t know who Beau and Cadence are, but it doesn’t sound like Sara and Marcos are big fans.
I try not to stare at Samson, but it’s hard. He’s about ten feet away, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, watching the waves claw at the sand. I hate that I’m wondering what he’s thinking about, but he has to be thinking about something. That’s what staring at the ocean produces. Thoughts. Lots of them.
“Let’s go swimming,” Sara says as she stands up and shimmies out of her shorts. She looks at me. “Wanna come?”
I shak
e my head. “I already showered tonight.”
Sara grabs Marcos’s hand and pulls him out of the chair. He swoops her up in his arms and runs toward the water. Sara’s squeal breaks Samson out of whatever trance he was in. He stands up and wipes sand away from his shorts. He turns to walk back to the fire, but I notice the pause when he sees I’m sitting over here alone.
I keep my eyes on Sara and Marcos, if only because I don’t know what else to look at. I certainly don’t want to look at Samson as he walks over here. I still feel embarrassed by the part of my conversation he overheard earlier. I don’t want him to think I hate Sara because I don’t. I just don’t know her all that well. But what he heard probably sounded worse than what it was.
He quietly takes his seat and stares at the fire, making no effort to speak to me. I look around us, at the incredible amount of space there is on this beach, and wonder how I can possibly feel like I’m suffocating right now.
I inhale a slow breath, then release it carefully before I speak. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier. About Sara.”
Samson looks over at me with a stoic expression. “Good.”
That’s all he says.
I shake my head and look away, but not before he sees me roll my eyes at his response. I don’t know why, but even when he’s defending his friends, he comes off as an asshole.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I lean back in my chair and look up at the sky. “Everything,” I whisper to myself.
Samson grabs a stick that’s sitting in the sand by his chair. He starts poking at the fire, but says nothing else. I lean my head to the right and look at the houses that line the beach. Samson’s is by far the nicest one. It’s more modern. It’s stark white with deep black trim, boxy with lots of glass. But it seems cold compared to Alana and my father’s house.
It also seems lonely, like he’s the only one who lives there.
“Do you live in your house alone?”
“I don’t really consider that my house, but yes, I’m the only one who stays there.”
“Where are your parents?”
“Not here,” he says.
His clipped responses aren’t because he’s shy. He’s definitely not shy. I wonder if his conversations are like this with everyone or if it’s just me.
Heart Bones Page 6