Skinny Dippin'

by Didi Oviatt

  Scrambling for a place to stand, or something to hold in our hands that might make us look cool and natural, we fail miserably, both of us. We’re standing too close together, so finding a common ground amidst sudden panic of being caught eavesdropping is impossible.

  Dean rounds the corner with a cute young girl who has flowing brunette curls, just as Marsha and I ram into one another at full force. Our faces crash together. My nose nearly takes out her eyeball.

  Marsha clutches her eye with both hands, folds herself forward at the waist and shouts, “Damn it!”

  Dean laughs. “Guys, this is Tina, she’s in my Biochemistry class.”

  “Hi!” she says, very chipper. “Dean told me all about you. I’m excited to see what surprises are up his sleeve.”

  Spoken like a willing and capable candidate, up to the challenge that is everything Dean. She has a carry-on sized luggage bag on wheels, likely full of clothing and necessities. She also has a large purse, it’s a cute one with fringe. I like her taste. What I don’t understand is the huge duffle bag tossed over her shoulder. All in all, this Tina chick has brought more stuff than the three of us combined. I notice the ever-growing grin on Dean’s face as he watches me size her up. Marsha gains her composure and gives her a wave as if they’ve already met. Likely in school, but I don’t ask.

  I clear the lump in my throat. “Nice to meet you, Tina. I’m Dean’s mom, Carla.”

  “What’s in the bag?” Marsha asks.

  “Oh, these are props,” she smiles. “Dean didn’t tell me what we were doing. He just said to bring lots of props, a swimsuit, toothbrush and Pjs." She looks up, and out the corner of her eye as if she's trying to recall anything she may have missed. "There might have been more, I don't remember."

  A proud grin takes over Tina's face, and I see it. That light -- the bold and adventurous tendencies of the exact type of woman Dean is after. Tina has it, sparkling boldly in her excited eyeballs. Hopefully Dean didn't see it too. I'm sure he has before though. Shit, no wonder he said she has promise.

  Dean flashes her his most confident and mischievous grin.

  Don't think about the dream. Don't think about the dream.

  "So?" he questions, leaning against his elbow on the counter. "What props did you bring?"

  Tina doesn’t even ask what they’re needed for. She heaves it off of her shoulder and onto the freshly cleaned countertop with a clunking thud, and then unzips it all the way from one end to the other.

  Her arms circle the air as far as she can reach. “Ta-Da!” She says. “Help yourself. It’s the best I could do on short notice. An hour didn’t give me much time to gather anything more than some random stuff I had laying around.”

  “Wait a minute,” Marsha says, as she digs around in the bag. “Dean invited you an hour ago?”

  “Yep,” he chuckles. “I texted her right after you two massacred my textbook with waffle topping.”

  Tina giggles. It has a soft, sing-song ring to it. She doesn’t ask questions, only enjoys the moment, and pulls a top hat out of the bag to place on Dean’s head. He follows suit and rummages around until he finds a matching corn-cob pipe. He holds it out to her, and she bites down on the small end, accepting the offer. Marsha and I watch them, absorbing their comfort with one another as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and snaps a selfie. They each pull a face to match their props. Her with one hand holding the pipe to her lips, and the other hand scratching at some non-existent chin stubble. Dean gives his phone a wink and a slight lift of the hat. It is an adorable picture; she’s definitely doomed.

  “How is it that you just have this stuff laying around, anyway?” he questions. “I really didn’t think you’d pull off a bag of props.” His smile grows even wider, as if that’s possible.

  Tina shrugs. “I like Halloween and playing dress up.” She says that as if she isn’t a grown woman at all, but a very confident and precise young girl on her way to Disney on Ice. “Next time, it’s my turn to give you an impossible task. Let's see if you’re as great at it as I am.”

  “I will be,” he retorts.

  Marsha pulls a few large-and-in-charge floppy sun hats from the bag and holds them between her upper arm and ribcage. Then she digs around a little more until she comes across a Ziplock bag full of plastic disco jewelry and gigantic sunglasses.

  “Well, I’m ready,” she says. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

  Chapter 3

  The man on the billboard that I pass every day going to and from work practically jumps off of his gigantic perch and kisses me right on the face on our way out of town. That muscular back on the beach is my first confirmation that making this trip is the right choice. The rest of the drive is a blast, and it reinforces my ultimate decision to spend the summer away from home, away from my children. There’s been no stress in this SUV whatsoever. Carefree chatter is welcomed, and the jokes told are classic. I watch my kids, with their carefree spirits yet remarkable sense of priorities and independence. They’ve turned out to be amazing adults, on their way to inevitable success.

  When we stop for gas mid-trip, Dean and Tina jump out. As soon as they’ve made their exit, Marsha gives me a nudge. “I think he might have finally found someone as weird as he is,” she says.

  I’m eyeing them suspiciously. “Yeah, maybe. I guess we’ll find out by the end of tomorrow if our dear new Tina’s going to make it to a second cut.”

  “You remember Jackie?” Marsha asks with a teasing cackle.

  I drop my forehead into the palm of my hand. Of course, I remember Jackie, she was the single most annoying human I’ve ever come in contact with. Her laugh was exactly like the hyenas in Disney’s Lion King, and she spent a large amount of time adjusting the underwire of her bra. How that piece of work honestly made it through three rounds of Dean dates is beyond me.

  Dean and Tina jump back into the SUV, putting a quick stop to Marsha and I talking our shit. He willingly handed Tina his keys. She’s a much more aggressive driver, taking the turns sharp with a lead foot. In what feels like no time at all we’re being navigated by Google Maps to the hotel. Stephany is supposed to be waiting for us in the parking lot to give me the royal tour of her hometown after we’ve checked in. Marsha and Dean have come here to visit her and spend a week on the beach every summer since they turned sixteen and could drive themselves. They’re well acquainted with the area, unlike me, the ol’ newbee.

  They’d met her at a beachside Bible retreat the year they turned fourteen and formed a pretty solid bond. Stephany is just as strange as they are, so naturally the three of them get along well. I always enjoy her visits and have secretly hoped for years that she’s the one Dean would end up with. Sadly, she didn’t make it to a second cut because she walked in on him pooping at a Denny’s during their date, not paying attention to the men’s sign on the bathroom door. He never recovered from the embarrassment, and she couldn’t talk to him without laughing for the rest of her stay.

  The parking is tight at our charming three-star hotel. After confirming our early check in with Becky at the front desk and acquiring our keys, Dean resumes his rightful place in the driver’s seat. He manages to squeeze his SUV in between a shiny new Cadillac and a rusty old pickup. I hear Stephany before I see her. The squeals that she and Marsha let out are piercing and somewhat obnoxious; I love it. I round the vehicle and begin pulling our luggage out from the hatch, and I’m nearly taken to the ground by a hug suitable for a linebacker.

  “Carla!” Stephany jumps up and down twice and then grabs my hands. “My parents are so excited that you decided to come out! I think they were getting a little nervous.” She pulls her bottom lip down at the edges and squints her eyes, kind of like an ‘oh shit’ face.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I admit. “I really haven’t given them much time to make other plans.” I pull her into another hug. “It’s great to see you!”

  “You too,” she says, returning the second embrace.

  We grab our lu
ggage and make our way in. Stephany and Tina seem to hit it off well. Apparently, Stephany has the exact same top hat in her own impressive-sounding dress up stuff. The ironic part is that I’m not surprised in the slightest. Of course, Stephany plays dress up too, I mean, why wouldn’t she, right?

  We lug all our bags into the elevator, and up to the second floor to find our rooms. Marsha drops herself onto the first bed, letting her arms relax to her sides. Stephany follows suit, and I listen to their meandering and comparing their college classes from the bathroom. I take my time to freshen up my makeup and splay out everything from my bathroom bag across the counter. I continue to eavesdrop. Stephany took the second semester off this year to spend more time with her family before a temporary move to France to finish out her studies in fashion next fall. I’m impressed with her aspirations and look forward to watching her grow a career doing what she loves.

  “Mom,” Marsha hollers at me. “Are you alive in there?”

  I chuckle and dry off my hands. “I’m fine,” I half-yell back.

  When I come out of the bathroom, the girls haven’t moved.

  “I’m going downstairs to take a look at the gym before we leave,” I tell them. “Want anything from a vending machine?”

  “Nope,” they say in unison. Marsha sits up and adds, “Do you think it’s safe to leave those two weirdos in a room by themselves? I mean, I could always bunk up with Tina tonight and we could make Dean stay in here.”

  She pulls up her shoulders, and I cut her a dramatic look of panic. “Whatever shall we do?” I say and wave my arms in the air. “Not a grown, drama-loving doctor-to-be, all alone in a double bed hotel room with a girl that we all know he won’t have sex with!” I throw my head back and sigh as loud as my nearly emptied lungs will allow.

  Little did I know, Dean and Tina were sneaking through the propped open door of our room, on some covert op mission, just in time to hear and see my antics. Marsha and Stephany laugh hysterically, as I turn to see the two of them with their finger guns intact. Their arms raised at the torso, ready to fire if needed, and their faces blank slates - both of them. Tina shows no reaction, nor does Dean. They remain in character of this strange little game of pretend that they’re emersed in. A part of me is growing to like her even more because of it. They’re definitely two peas in a pod.

  Tina leans toward him, as if no one can see or hear what’s going on besides them. “Is it against the rules for a lieutenant to have sexual relations with a co-lieutenant?” she whispers before moving her waist around another corner, finger gun first, sweeping the room for danger, no doubt.

  Dean drops his own guns in order to lift his hands in aid of a gigantic shrug, “I don’t even know if there’s such a thing as a co-lieutenant.”

  Dean’s grin takes up the larger portion of his face, and he lifts his hands back to a steady shoot out position. His fingers point in the air to match hers. The rest of us watch them, our mouths are slightly agape, because wow. Tina and Dean make a sweep through the room. Their steps are cautious, and there is no space left unchecked. Once they’re certain no one is hiding in the closet or beneath any end tables, and that the room is void of ‘bugs’, they make a grand exit back down the hall and to their own room.

  I shake my head. I don’t know what to make of what just happened. Neither does Stephany or Marsha. I can tell because they’re both sitting up now, staring at the still propped open door, speechless. I clear my throat to snap us all back to reality.

  “Yep,” I say. “I think they’ll be fine.”

  “Well,” Stephany finds her voice. “Glad Dean finally met his match.” She falls back to her relaxed position on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “What were you telling me about Professor Stark and your creative writing class?”

  Just like that, it’s as if Dean and Tina’s odd little visit never happened. I turn on my heels, back on track, and find my way to the gym. I prefer to do my working out at night, mornings aren’t my thing, so I’m curious to see what this place has to offer me later when I’m ready. I’m actually a little surprised that there’s a gym at all. Judging from the uneven trim in the halls and the outdated wallpaper that lines our bathroom walls, this hotel isn’t exactly equipped to cater to the luxurious sort. Lucky for me, I prefer to be comfortable in a homey place.

  The gym room is small, with only one pulley machine, a few treadmills, one wall lined with mirrors, and a free weight station. I stand and stare for a minute, not at the room in general, but at the one and only person using it. Scratch that, I’m not even staring at him, but at his back… just his back. He’s perched on a bench at the free weight station, with his front facing the opposite direction as me.

  He’s fit, very fit, and I can’t seem to find any movement in my own body - my feet are cemented to the floor. My eyes are glued to him. I watch in detail as one drop of sweat works its way from his hairline to the base of his boxers that are peeking out from behind his swim trunks. I watch it roll down the inside of his broad shoulder blade, and across the curve of muscle that lines the outer edge of his spine. Some primal urge inside me wants to walk straight over to him and lick that single drop of salty goodness from his flesh.

  Holy shit, Carla, what are you thinking?

  My inner voice shouts at me. It’s right, too. This man can’t be a day over twenty-seven. Can’t be. I cut my eyes to the mirrored wall to see the reflection of his young face. The curve of his jaw is sharp, and his icy blues lock onto mine. I don’t feel embarrassed, which is even stranger than my random urge to taste his dampened skin. I only stare back, unable to pull away. He smiles a little but holds his steady gaze and continues curling a dumbbell with his left arm. Just as he winks at me, the sound of a cough makes me jump, nearly through the roof.

  What the hell just happened? Carla, don’t be a cougar, don’t be a cougar.

  I snap my gaze to the culprit of the cough. It’s Tina. She wiggles her eyebrows at me and then gives me the most dramatic wink I’ve ever seen. Half of her face squinches up with it, as the open-mouthed grin pulls to the side. Then she does a second eyebrow wag for good measure before walking away without saying a word. I watch her hips sway down the hall as her other arm is completely full of probably half of the vending machine goods. She must have beat me down here right after their big protection sweep of my room.

  I can feel the color in my cheeks darken a shade, and rather than looking back at the handsome man-boy working out, I turn and stomp away. The last thing I need is to acknowledge the intense moment and let him see the embarrassment seep through the skin on my face. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s closer to my kids’ age than he is to mine. Which reminds me of Bradley’s little fling. Which makes me cringe and shake my head to myself while staring at my open toed sandals while I speed walk away. This of course makes me clip my shoulder against the edge of a corner as I round it. It knocks me somewhat sideways. I rub the pain from it, and grunt at myself in disappointment.

  When I get back to the room Marsha and Stephany have already changed into their beachwear and are packing a bag with snacks, water, sunscreen, and the extra hotel towels that we’d requested in advance. Dean is kicked back on one of the beds, also in his swimsuit, waiting for Tina to get ready and join us in my room.

  “Wait,” I say, “I thought we were going to your house first, Stephany? Now that we’ve made it here, I’m excited to finally meet your parents and see their condo.”

  “My mom said to have you there by dinner, and no sooner. Apparently, she's not satisfied with how clean it isn’t, and is planning a big meal for everyone.”

  “Wow, I hope she isn’t going out of her way too much. A full summer trip is a lot to prepare for. I don’t want to take away from all the other stuff she surely has to do. We could even pick up a pizza or something on our way?” I suggest.

  “Nope,” Stephany argues, with no intention of calling her mom to try and change her mind. “They’re all packed and ready. My mom is a planner and a neat freak.
You’ll see. Dinner will be nice, the condo will be spotless, and you haven’t put her out at all. The very second I got off the phone with Marsha last night she sat down with a pen and paper to make herself a shopping list for dinner, and a checklist of everything to have accomplished before you arrived.”

  I lean against the wall and fold my arms over my chest, feeling a little guilty for being so much trouble. “Sounds thorough,” I say.

  Marsha pokes her head out of the bathroom. “Don’t feel bad, mom,” she encourages. “You’re doing them a favor. Plus, you're going to love Sarah! She enjoys hosting dinners and is thrilled that you finally decided to come out and see the condo before they leave town.”

  “It’s true,” Stephany agrees. “Being thorough is kind of her thing. She’s weird like that.”

  “Okaaaay,” I say hesitantly before relaxing my arms to my sides, letting out a huff of air and reaching for my bag. “So, the beach then?”

  It isn’t very far to drive. In fact, we could have walked, and a part of me wishes we would have. It’s a charming little city and I’m dying to check out the antique shop that we passed between the hotel and the beach. There must be some amazing old books there. We wrestle a few fold-up beach chairs out of the back hatch and find the perfect spot. The sun is out, but there’s a slight breeze which makes the temperature perfect to soak up a few rays. I lather on a thick layer of sunscreen and don one of the floppy sun hats that Marsha had picked out of Tina’s prop bag. It reminds me of the little girl in my dream, which gives me mixed feelings; but I wear it anyway.

  After a good hour of alternating sides and taking the occasional stroll to the water's edge to cool my feet while watching my adult children and their friends splash around like fools, I decide to take a walk. I let them know the direction I’m headed and that I won't be long. Each of my steps squish into the sand, leaving dissolvable, wet-looking footprints behind my bare feet. My sandals dangle from my fingertips. There are a few dozen people littering the beach around us, everyone spaced out and enjoying the waves. I smile at a couple of kids as they build a castle and giggle at each other's jokes. Maybe it won’t be so lonely here, after all.