Summer of Seventeen

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bit out, ice shooting through my body.

  He shrugged, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You’re small-town, Nick. You always have been. You don’t want to go anywhere else…”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Yeah, it is. But I want to go away to college. I want to surf Pipelines and Hanalei and see the sunset on Oahu. Anything! You just want to stay here.”

  “It’s all I can afford!” I yelled at him, my hands clenching into fists. “I don’t have rich parents who’ll pay for me to sit on my ass all summer and get girls pregnant!”

  His mouth dropped open in surprise, then his eyes narrowed.

  “Fuck you, Nick.”

  And he scrambled to his feet and strode away.

  My whole body was vibrating with anger, and I badly wanted to hit something. Instead I flung myself back on the sand and threw my arm over my eyes.

  I couldn’t believe Sean had been such a prick, but at the same time I was stunned. Having a fight with Sean was like seeing the sky turn green: it wasn’t supposed to happen. We never fought. Well, not since he broke my Beast Hunter Transformer back in third grade.

  I knew it wasn’t really me he was mad at. He was scared and pissed, but hell! We were friends, weren’t we? And all this time he was looking down on me like I was some sort of loser?

  “Nick?” Yansi’s voice was tentative. “Are you okay?”

  I sat up reluctantly.

  “Not really.”

  “You guys were shouting,” she said softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Anything I can help with?”

  I gave her a small smile. “You always help.”

  And wasn’t that the damn truth.

  “Is … is Sean okay?”

  I shook my head. “He’s really fucked.”

  She threaded her fingers through mine. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  I huffed out a breath. “Sean’s in a whole shitload of trouble. I don’t think he’ll talk his way out of this one.”

  “Okay,” she said quietly, ignoring my evasion.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her. Hell, there was no one else I’d rather talk to about it, but I didn’t know if that was cool with Sean.

  “We kind of had a fight,” I added lamely.

  Her face twisted in a grimace.

  “Yeah, so I saw. I think everyone saw.” Then she looked up. “Is Lacey pregnant?”

  My eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “You’re fighting with your best friend. She’s upset, he’s upset—everyone knows those guys only hook up for sex. It made sense.”

  She was right, but that was my girl—real smart.

  “What’s he going to do?”

  “I don’t know. His parents are telling him to drop out and get a job.”

  “Wow! I can’t believe that!”

  “I know. They think he needs to learn some kind of lesson, but shit—you’d think they’d at least want him to graduate high school.”

  Yansi shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll go through with the threat. I mean, I’ve never met his parents, but I’ve seen the car Sean drives—they won’t want a minimum wage kid.”

  I winced, her words hitting home.

  “They’ll probably just let him think that for a few days to shake him up.”

  “Really?”

  “Probably, at least I hope so.”

  I hoped she was right too, and now she’d said it, it seemed the most likely thing to happen. But then again, she hadn’t met his parents.

  I didn’t tell her what he’d said about me being small-town, because a part of me that I didn’t want to admit to thought he might be right.

  Yansi stroked my arm and leaned against me.

  “So, what were you guys fighting about? I get that he’d be upset, but why was he yelling at you?”

  “It just kind of blew up…”

  She looked at me shrewdly. “Because…?”

  “I said he needed to be responsible for the kid.” I looked down. “Because, ya know, I know what it’s like if your dad isn’t a dad, just a sperm donor.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, then wrapped her arms around me.

  “I didn’t mean give up school or anything, but it wouldn’t kill him to get a freakin’ job, would it?”

  She was quiet for a moment.

  “It’s not your fault that he got himself into this mess, Nick.”

  “I know … but I feel like I was kicking him while he’s down.”

  “Give him some time to cool off. He’ll be fine.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this—not in all the time I’ve known him. I’m going to see if I can find him.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I called Sean’s cell about twenty times, but it kept going to voicemail. I sent him texts, too, but he didn’t get back to me, and nobody had seen him since we’d had our fight.

  Eventually, we went back to my place in case he’d gone there. But Julia hadn’t seen him either. She believed, like Yansi, that he’d calm down in his own time, but she agreed to let me borrow her car. So me and Yansi drove around: north on Ridgeway, south on Atlantic Avenue, looking for his car. Finally, we drove over to Sean’s house. I didn’t think he’d go there, but we’d tried everywhere else.

  “You’d better let me knock on the door,” Yansi said. “They’re more likely to talk to me. I’ll just say I’m a friend from school.”

  She was only gone a few minutes while I sat in the car sending yet another text to Sean. But when she came back, she looked really pissed.

  “Oh my God! I just met his mother. What a bitch! No wonder Sean is such a screw up!”

  “Why, what did she say to you?”

  “Well, first off, she thought I was Mexican and looking for a job cleaning. She even asked if I had a Green Card! Then when I told her I was a friend of Sean’s from school. She said, and I quote, ‘I find that highly unlikely’. And then she closed the door in my face!”

  I was really angry and ready to go and tell Mrs. Wallis what I thought of her.

  “Leave it,” Yansi sniffed. “She’s not worth it. And it’s more important that we find Sean.”

  In the end I had to agree.

  We drove around to all the usual places for a second time, but again no one had seen him. By then it was late afternoon and I had to give up because I was due at work in half an hour. So I drove Yansi back to her house first, then went home to change.

  But when I got there, Sean was sitting on my doorstep.

  “Fuck, man! I’ve been looking for you all over!”

  “Yeah, I saw your messages. I just needed some space, you know?”

  I sat down next to him. “Yeah, I guess. Um, I even went to see your mom. Well, Yansi did, but she wouldn’t tell us anything.”

  He gave a small smile. “Yeah, I heard that, too. Mom left a message on my phone. Another one.”

  We sat in silence for several minutes.

  I was relieved he was okay, but was kind of annoyed that I’d spent the afternoon driving all over the place looking for him. Gas wasn’t cheap, and I’d done a lot of miles today. But he had enough people pissed at him already, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Look, I’ve got to get ready for work, but you can stay here. Julia’s cool.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m gonna go hang at the beach for a while.” His breath came out in a gust. “I thought I could hide from my parents, from my life, but I can’t.

  “I’ll come with you. I’ll call in sick to work.”

  “Appreciate it, bro, but I know you need the money. And … about before … that was out of line. I was being a dick. I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No worries. We’re good. Are you going to stay here now, or do you think they’ll still send you to North Carolina?”

  His gazed dropped to the ground and he toed a weed growing ou
t of the cracked concrete.

  “No, I made a decision about that. I was dreaming if I thought they’d let me stay with you. Hell, you know my old man—he’d cut off the money and force me back. And I can’t ignore this—gotta fuckin’ face it. Right? I won’t be leaving Cocoa Beach now,” he stated.

  I was confused by his tone. “Did your mom say that? That’s a good thing though, right? I mean, you’ll be here. I’ll help you with stuff. Yansi, too. I know you guys don’t get along so well, but she’s really great with kids…”

  He frowned. “I can’t believe there’s going to be a kid out there with my name on it. Who the fuck would want me for a father? Another life I can screw up.”

  “Come on, man, it won’t be that bad. You can teach the little dude to surf. You’ll be a great dad.”

  His eyes were watery and he held out his hand before pulling me into a guy hug. “I love you, bro. You always got my back. Now get the fuck out of here before you turn me into a freakin’ chick!”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Whatever, asshole!”

  He smiled. “Dawn surf tomorrow? My last moment of freedom?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Promise me, man,” he said, suddenly serious.

  “I said so, didn’t I?”

  He smiled. “Okay.” And he turned to leave. Then he stopped as he was getting into his car. “Julia let me in earlier, so I’ve left you something on your bed. Call it a goodbye present.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t leaving?” I yelled after him.

  He didn’t answer, just waved and was gone.

  I ran upstairs to see what he’d left me.

  Lying on my bed was his Z-Racer Cruiser. Hand-crafted from a 10-layer veneer construction, laser etched logos, sanded wheels wells, 60mm 97A wheels, five sandblasted trucks, Z-Flex Abec 7 Bearings. Also known as two-hundred-and-fifty dollars worth of skateboard.

  A note was taped to the deck.

  I read the note again, smiling. I hadn’t accepted a new board from Mr. Alfaro, but this—hell, yeah! I knew it was Sean’s way of apologizing for before.

  I sent him a quick text message, but he didn’t reply.

  I hurried to take a shower before heading to work. At least now I had a skateboard, I wouldn’t be late.

  But as I was pulling on my jeans, I heard voices yelling in the hall. Well, one voice. Camille.

  “You are not serious about anything, Marcus. Except surfing. It is like a drug to you. Or … surfing is the problem, but it is also the solution. For you. It is like you are … playing at a relationship. Sometimes I think this.”

  “Why are you here, Cam?”

  “I saw that girl leaving your room.”

  Uh oh.

  Marcus’ voice was calm when he replied.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  “It was a surprise. To me as well, I think now.”

  “It didn’t mean anything, babe.”

  “I would have given you my life! I don’t understand why you have done this. You have killed our future. You are a … pig!”

  And then there was a lot of screaming in French.

  I heard the front door slam, and everything went quiet. So I ventured downstairs and nearly tripped over Camille sitting on the bottom step.

  From the look on her face she knew that I’d heard everything. I didn’t know what to say to her. We stared at each other for a few seconds.

  “Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

  She didn’t answer immediately, just looked at me calmly, although her eyes were glistening with tears.

  “You could be just like him, Nick. I see it in you. Yes, it’s there. But maybe there’s more, I don’t know. I think you could be more. He could have been more, but chose to be alone.”

  I stood uncomfortably, waiting for her to leave. She stared at the front door, but I wasn’t sure she was really seeing it. Then she turned to look at me again.

  “He never wanted to be ordinary—whatever that is. Marcus, I mean. He wanted to be a musician. Did you know that? He said he did, but I couldn’t see it. I tried, I did.”

  She smiled sadly and looked down.

  “I got stupidly cross with him because he insisted he is an artist, and yet the music is never his top priority. I don’t know, but an artist to me is someone who loves it so much they just have to do it. He does it after surfing, screwing and smoking, and it makes me want to smack his face.”

  She shook her head.

  “He is addicted to this life, this part-time life. Yes, addicted. He says it’s because surfing is the only time he gets peace from the noise in his head, and the pressures of society and other people. He can be out there for nine hours at a time and still doesn’t understand why he has no money, and why he never gets to finish any music. So there is an element of stupidity and denial.”

  She looked up to meet my eyes.

  “He doesn’t have any roots.”

  “Not everyone has large families or people who care about them,” I said carefully.

  I’m not sure she even heard me.

  “So, why am I telling you this? Because I see it in you, Nick, this addiction.”

  I was confused and beginning to feel angry. Who the fuck did she think she was to talk to me like this? She was just pissed and taking it out on me. But no, I wasn’t really so dumb. I knew she was telling me something real—and it scared the fuck out of me. Because she was right, because I felt it, too.

  Marcus kept life simple and did things the way he wanted. No one relying on him, no one expecting anything from him. I could see that it made him free. It also made him alone. But as he always said—it was his life.

  Camille stood up slowly. “I think he wanted me to find him with that woman. So he didn’t have to make a choice.”

  She straightened her skirt and swept a hand through her hair.

  “Goodbye, Nick.”

  And she walked out.

  I listened to the front door slam behind her, and sat down heavily.

  When I woke up on Sunday, I was tired from working late at the Sandbar, muscles sore from six hours of standing washing dishes. So I wasn’t in a great mood. Sean had left me a text, reminding me that I’d promised to meet him at the pier for a dawn surf. I wasn’t happy about it, and I’d tried to text him back, but he wasn’t returning my messages or answering my calls, so I had no choice but to go.

  I was just glad we weren’t fighting anymore. I rode the Z-Flex to work the night before, and it had been awesome. A really smooth ride. I guess I owed Sean. Mofo knew it, too.

  The only good thing about getting up so early for a dawn surf is that cold water is a fast way to shake you awake. Hard to be half asleep when salt water is shooting through your body.

  I saw Sean’s car as soon as I arrived at the pier. It was parked at a crazy angle in the lot at the top of the dunes. Surely the dude couldn’t be wasted at this time in the morning? But after the last couple of days he’d had, I guess I couldn’t blame him. Not much surprised me about Sean anymore—because I’d stopped knowing what to expect. Nothing was familiar. It was all changing. We were changing.

  It made me pissed that he might have been driving while he was drunk. I hoped not. And he really needed to give up the weed. It was making him a little crazy, and with everything that was going on, he was even more unpredictable than usual.

  I walked down to the shore and dumped my skateboard and backpack under the pier, laying my thruster on top, then searching the waves for a sign of him. I squinted into the gray light, the rising sun slowly turning the tops of the waves pink. I breathed in the clean scent of salty air, enjoying the coolness after another humid night of trying to sleep. I searched the line-up, and wondered where the hell he was.

  Then I spotted his board half hidden behind a small dune. As I got closer, I could see that it was lying in two pieces. Damn. That was a nice board, too—Quiksilver Pro—about eight hundred dollars worth of shortboard. He must have caught a bad wave
and snapped it on the beach break. But it was odd, because the leash was still wrapped around the tail, something we all did to stop it dragging in the sand when you were carrying it. But why bother when it was already broken?

  And where the hell was he?

  Maybe Sean was taking a leak somewhere in the dunes.

  I called his name loudly.

  “Sean! Where are you, you crazy fucker?”

  But the only reply were the seagulls wheeling overhead.

  Damn it! He’d probably gotten wasted again and was sleeping it off somewhere in the dunes.

  I searched the beach and wandered along a short distance until I found his backpack, but still no sign of him.

  And then…

  You know that moment when you feel something is wrong and you have no clue what it could be, but you just know? A sensation like iced water was being pumped into my veins began to chill me, and I started to jog across the dunes, calling his name, searching, searching.

  And then I saw him, and relief washed through me.

  But only for a second. He was lying face down by the shore, and the falling tide was tugging at his boardshorts, his feet moving lazily as if he was dreaming about swimming.

  Face down.

  I ran faster, calling his name, waiting for him to sit up and laugh his ass off.

  But he didn’t. And I ran.

  I ran towards him and maybe I was calling his name, I don’t know.

  How did this happen? The surf was small today—kids stuff. How? HOW? Sean could have nailed these waves with his eyes closed.

  I slid on my knees next to him and grabbed him by his shoulders, rolling him over.

  His eyes were open and I knew, I just knew.

  I felt for a pulse, trying to see through the haze of tears, but his skin was cold, and I knew. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew.

  And I was on my knees in the wet sand and hugging his cold body against my chest and begging him to wake up, and begging and pleading and promising to be a better friend, promising I’d save him this time if only he would just wake up.

  The CPR skills I’d learned came back to me, igniting my brain, making promises I wanted to believe. So I laid him on his back. Breathe, Sean, breathe, I begged. Find the place on his chest, pump eight times, breathe, pump eight times, breathe. Just fucking breathe!