Locked Out

by Anna Chastain

  “It’s only eight more weeks if you go to full term.”

  “Maya!” I gasp. “Don’t even kid about that.” I wrap my hands protectively around my tummy.

  “Ha. See? You’ll make it as long as you need to because you got those Mama Bear instincts running through your body now.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “You’re stupid.”

  We stare each other down.

  “Is this what it was like to have siblings?” I ask.

  She shrugs her shoulder. “Yeah, pretty much. But with a lot more screaming and punching.”

  She pulls a bag of nacho cheese chips from her purse, tugs it open, and holds it out for me.

  “Oh, I love you so much.” I take two handfuls and she doesn’t even bat an eye.

  “Where’s your man?”

  “Surfing,” I say, my mouth full of chip, not realizing what I’d kinda-sorta admitted to until I spy her casually smug eyebrow lift.

  “Oh, shut up and tell me about work.”

  She spends the next twenty minutes filling me in on all the work news and gossip (apparently my scandal has been outshined by the pairing up of two of the school’s young teachers).

  “I mean, whatever, they’re young, cute, in love, I get it,” she says with an eye roll, crunching down on a chip.

  “Okay, but how’s my library?”

  “Girl, the library is fine.”

  “Please tell me someone at least took down the Christmas decorations.” I’d planned to go in and redecorate the place like a winter wonderland, snowflakes everywhere, but then bedrest happened.

  “Yes, the Christmas decorations are down. Probably not the way you would have taken them down, but whatever. You’ve got those helpers of yours and the book club kids so well trained, they’ve got it covered.”

  “Aww, how are they? Tell them I miss them, okay?” Just thinking about the kids had me feeling all weepy. I really missed our book club lunches and hearing about their days. I wondered how Isaac liked the new graphic novel series he’d started, and if Cami had liked any of the universities she and her family had visited over break, and who was refilling the Keurig station for Lucy? Sigh.

  “I’ll tell them,” she agrees, recognizing a sad Holly when she saw one. “You doing okay, otherwise?”

  Maya knew about my history and my penchant for isolation.

  “I’m actually doing okay…I mean, other than the whole blob level I’ve unlocked here.”

  Before Maya can respond, Dean bursts through the back door, Grace hot on his heels, laughing.

  “You’re such an asshole!” She shouts, chasing him into the living room, stopping short when she notices Maya and me. “Oh, crap. Hi.”

  She looks down at the wet, sandy trail they’ve tracked in, misery on her face.

  “God, Holly, I’m so sorry.” She starts to tiptoe backwards, a death glare aimed at her big brother.

  “Oh, it’s alright, Dean does all the cleaning these days, anyway,” I shrug off her apology, smiling at him (him, who’s got a kitchen chair propped in front of him to shield his big, Marine body from his little sister).

  “In that case-“

  “No, Gracie, don’t-“

  They do a little side-to-side shuffle before both are overtaken by laughter. And what a sight. Dean is beyond beautiful right now, his eyes lit up, his face cracked in half by his giant smile.

  “I am so glad you’re having a girl first,” Grace declares once she’s got a grip on her giggles, “older brothers are the worst!”

  The comment appears to sober Dean right up because, oh, the implications of that statement.

  “Get a broom, idiot, and let’s get to work,” she bosses him and, with a glance at me, he complies.

  I look to Maya because…well, I just don’t even know what’s happening in my house, and she looks smug as-well, you know what.

  I never do get a chance to ask Dean what all the hubbub was about earlier because after Maya and Grace are gone, he announces that his family is having a beach barbecue on Saturday and we’re going. I’m getting out of this house and going to the beach, people!

  I know what you’re thinking. It’s February and you’re going to the beach?! But, this is southern California, see, and it might technically be winter, but it’s still seventy-two degrees and sunny today. There’s a slight chill on the breeze, but that’s what sweaters are for-or in Dean Slade’s case, a whole pile of blankets. I’m working hard to limit the eye-rolling, but if you saw all that he’d packed in his Jeep for one trip to the beach with me, you’d be eye-rolling, too.

  “Alright, I think we’re good to go,” he declares at last, standing at the back of his Jeep, staring at the pile of stuff he’s crammed in there. I’m buckled into the passenger seat, my beach bag in my lap, where I’ve been for a good ten minutes, waiting for him.

  “Let’s go then, we’ve got a long trip ahead of us,” I say, controlling my eyes.

  He pops up at my rolled-down window, surprising a squeak out of me. Guessing by the look on his face, my sarcasm does not amuse him.

  There’s a big group of people already set up at one of the Mermaid’s Cove (nicknamed so in the sixties, according to town legend) and I think, no, that can’t possibly be-but, wait, yes, yes, it is; that big group of folks is Dean’s family and friends. Oh, sheesh.

  Dean parks his Jeep and turns to face me. “I don’t suppose I could get you to wait here a minute while I set up a chair for you down there.”

  Actually…”I’ll wait here, thank you.”

  I’ll just ignore that surprised look on his face and take those extra few minutes he’s gifted me to get a grip on my social anxiety. All those new people, yeesh.

  “Okay, then,” he says and hops out of the car to start unloading the stuff out of the back.

  Okay, here’s the plan: walk down there (I will absolutely not let Dean carry me), plop down into my chair, don floppy beach hat, sit back with my eyes closed and soak up all the sunshine I’ve been missing so terribly.

  My game planning is interrupted by Lola Slade’s, “Hi, honey” at my window.

  “Hi.”

  “Can I help you down?” She offers. So nice.

  “Oh, um, actually, Dean said he’d like for me to wait until he has the chair…” My words taper off as she opens my door and takes my hand.

  “Since when do we let men tell us what to do?” She asks with a wink and a smile. “You look just beautiful today,” she tucks my arm into hers, “how’s our baby treating you?”

  My words are delayed by the easy way she refers to her as “our baby”. “She’s great, and thank you.”

  “Mom, Jesus,” Dean steps up, already exasperated with us.

  “Don’t you dare pick me up, Dean Slade,” I say, resolute, and his arms stop their trajectory towards my body.

  He takes a deep breath and concedes with a “fine”. I slip my feet out of my flip flops and relish the feeling of sand under my feet, but then realize, too late, I can’t exactly bend over to retrieve my shoes; and before I can even ask, Dean’s scooped them up and is headed back to the Jeep to grab more stuff. I watch him for a minute, feeling the small smile play against my lips, before continuing down to the beach area.

  There’s a large section of grass butted up against the parking lot where a handful of picnic tables and grills are set up; and both the parking lot and grassy area kiss the sand of the beach, which tumbles down in a gentle slope to the sea. I stand at the top of the slope and take a moment to absorb it all.

  “Been a while, huh?” Dean’s mom asks from next to me.

  “I forget how much I love it, you know. And I don’t ever want to take all of this for granted.”

  Lola wraps my hand in both of hers and pats gently. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Another moment and them I’m shuffled down to my awaiting sandy throne. Seriously, Dean managed to find the most extravagant beach chair ever created and I’m slightly embarrassed, until I sit in it an
d, aahhh. It’s so comfy. Like, if you could take my couch and make a beach chair version out of it, that’s what Dean has done. I may have fallen in love with him just a little the moment my bottom hits the soft fabric of the chair.

  Most of the group is gathered around the grill and table full of snacks, so I’m afforded a few moments of quiet to enjoy the scene in front of me. When I first moved in with my grandmother, she would force me on daily beach walks. We’d go out the back door and walk up and down the expanse of beach near her house. Sometimes we talked and sometimes we didn’t; she said sometimes we needed to be quiet and let the sea speak to us. At the time, I thought that was so ridiculous, but after a few weeks of walking with her at the water’s edge, my pants rolled up to let the water lap against my feet, I could hear it, too.

  I hear it today again, the water, so I close my eyes and just listen, letting its words soothe my nerves. I press my hands to my belly and hope my baby girl can hear it, or at least feel it, too.

  “Little Red,” Dean’s uncle greets me, setting up a chair next to mine. “This looks like the spot to be.”

  “It’s a good spot,” I tell him, turning his direction with a smile.

  “You look good today, Little, the beach compliments you.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to be out.”

  My hair is done up in two French braids, the ends of it long enough now to reach the top of my bathing suit, reminding me of the awesome cleavage I was rocking today (thank you, pregnancy). I’m wearing a red halter one-piece today (a classic), but am nowhere near brave enough to remove the long-sleeved, ankle-grazing cover-up I had on over it (even though I was totally in love with how cute my baby belly looked in this bathing suit while admiring it at home in front of the mirror in my bedroom).

  “You hungry, Mama?” Dean asks, leaning his head over the top of my chair so that I am staring at his upside-down face.

  “I’m always hungry,” I respond, reaching up to tap his forehead with one finger.

  “My dad’s grillin’ burgers.”

  “Yessss,” I tell him, rubbing my belly. And something to be noted, his upside-down grin is just as sexy as his right-side-up one.

  Everyone spreads out to chow down, some at the tables, some on blankets in the grass, some in chairs in the sand. Dean sits down right next to me, no towel necessary, his elbow resting on my chair’s arm rest, his eyes trained out to sea.

  “This is a nice chair,” I say, my voice quiet, my lips close enough to his ear for him to hear. He responds by turning to me, grinning, mid-chew, and winking. In my head, that wink says, only the best for you, Mama.

  “Slade family, I have arrived!” A big guy shouts, walking up from down the beach, a bottle of something in one hand. He’s familiar, but we’ve never met.

  “That’s Bear, he always manages to show up right when the food is ready,” Dean tells me, tipping his head toward mine to speak. And I gotta say, I’m totally digging this little bubble we got going on right now.

  I watch as, one by one, the Slade family members greet Bear with hugs and grins; he lifts Grace off her feet, holds her daughter, Amelia, upside down while she squeals. And then I watch as he tugs a woman I hadn’t seen before by the hand and saunters up to Dean and me.

  He approaches Dean differently than he did the others. He shoves his sunglasses to the top of his head and pulls Dean up out of the sand. With Dean, Bear’s grin seems more…genuine.

  “Slade, you asshole,” he says, pulling Dean in for a back pat. Then he spots me. “Well, holy shit.”

  If I were a turtle, now would be when I retreated into my shell.

  “Damn, Woman, I have heard so much about you,” he says, squatting down next to my chair, smiling. “I’m Bear and this is my beautiful wife, Lara,” he gestures to the woman standing just behind him to the side. And she is beautiful. Long legs, long brown hair tucked under a ball cap, freckles sprinkled across her cheeks.

  I lift my hand in greeting. “I’m Holly.”

  Dean’s hand moves to rest atop my head, his fingers sifting gently through my part. I was sure glad I hadn’t put my hat on yet.

  “Congratulations,” Lara says and I watch as Bear lifts his right hand to grab onto hers.

  “Oh, um, thanks.”

  “There’s lots of food up there, guys, help yourself, please,” Grace stops by to say, tugging Lara away by the hand. “Holly, you need anything?” She asks before moving away.

  “No, I’m good, thank you.” I would really like to go back to my little bubble with Dean now.

  “I’m gonna walk Bear over to the table,” Dean leans down to say.

  “Yup, okay, sounds good.” I wonder if he can hear how weird my voice sounds, because I sure can. My skin feels tight, my breath feels thick. I look out to sea and breathe with the waves. In, out, in, out. Blindly, I reach over the side of the chair and snatch up my hat, knowing its sprawling floppiness will cocoon me wonderfully. Once I’ve settled the hat, pushed on my sunglasses, and slouched down in my chair a touch, I feel better. I’m just so bad at meeting people. And Dean and his family waiting on me like I’m some kind of royal is just, well, horribly uncomfortable. If my body wasn’t being so frickin’ difficult, I could just get up and walk away, save myself. But, no, let’s confine the awkward chick to a chair, it says.

  Breathe in, out, in, out.

  Get over yourself, Holly is what I’m pretty sure the ocean tells me. The whole world’s a lot bigger than my problems; problems which aren’t even problems, really.

  “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Red calls out to the group just as I’ve talked myself back down to earth. He pulls Babe in close to him and smiles big. “Just wanted to say, Babe finally agreed to marry me. So we’re getting’ hitched!”

  I clasp my hands together at my chest and roll my lips in, trying to control my grin. I glance around at all his family members and they’re so happy. His sister, Lola, is already hugging the pair of them, Grace is clapping and cheering and her kids follow suit. I search for Dean and find him at last, looking right back at me. He lifts his water bottle to me, a cheers from afar, and I do the same.

  “So, you and Dean, huh?” Bear plops down next to me like a, well, a bear. He buries his beer bottle in the sand enough so that it will stand on his own and proceeds to take enormous bites of his burger, not bothering to chew and swallow before talking.

  I don’t respond because…what do I say to that? So I just keep his gaze.

  “You know, I’m probably his best friend in the whole world,” he declares.

  “Is that so?” My lips twitch in amusement.

  “Yep. Known him since we were kids.” He takes another giant bite, chews a minute, then continues. “He’s okay.”

  My right elbow is resting on the chair’s arm, so I’m sort of leaned in towards Bear, and I rest my mouth against my fist, hiding my amusement. I’m not sure this guy needs any encouragement from me.

  “See, that’s how you know I’m his best friend. If I were just a regular friend,” bite, munch, crunch, “I’d lie and say what an awesome dude he is, but I’ll be honest. He can be a real asshole. Maybe not so much anymore, you know, now that we’re in our thirties, we’ve kind of mellowed out a little, but when we were teens, that guy got me in so much trouble, so many fucked up situations.”

  He shakes his head as the memories play in his mind. “And you know the shit part? He never got caught. Racing in the hills? Nah, I got busted while Dean hid in the bushes. Trespassing on the Miranda’s Ranch? Nope, I got caught while Dean hid in the bushes. Smoking pot right back there,” he turns and points to a corner of the beach, “I got busted with the joint literally hanging out my mouth while Dean took off running.”

  “So, why’d you keep hanging out with him?” I ask, loving Bear’s stories.

  “Because he’s an okay guy,” he shrugs, the last bite of burger going in his mouth. “’Cause he bailed me out, charmed my fucking parents, the Miranda’s, the damn police, every time. Fucker alwa
ys had my back.”

  “So it’s better to be okay than great?” I ask, genuinely interested in his response.

  “Fuck, yeah it is. Being an okay person leaves you room for mistakes. You say someone’s a great person, then there’s, like, this high-ass threshold to constantly live up to. I’m just aiming for okay. I’ll give you your mistakes, your fuck-ups, and hopefully you’ll give me mine.”

  I take a moment to absorb Bear’s interesting take on how-to-be, and then think of the Dean that I’ve known before. And while, yes, he’s made mistakes, he’s also owned up to them, apologized and is constantly working to do better. And maybe that is what counts.

  “Yeah, he’s pretty okay,” I finally agree, tucking my lips in after admitting it, and glancing up to spot the man in question. He’s at the food table again, an arm slung around his mom’s shoulders, both of them talking to his dad and someone else I didn’t recognize.

  “Chances are, he’s already required some, uh, forgiveness.”

  I shoot him a look that says, I shall not confirm that statement verbally, but you are correct, Sir. And he laughs.

  “Yeah, I figured. Damn asshole.”

  “Oh, I’m no peach, either,” I mumble. What am I doing? What truth serum was grilled into those burgers?!

  “Oh, I very much doubt that.”

  “You can always find Bear hanging out with the women,” Dean saunters up with another guy by his side. This guy is tall, like, super tall. If I stood up, I’d probably only come up to his belly button, kind of tall.

  “Barney, this is Holly, Holly, Barney,” he makes the introductions.

  “Nice to meet you,” Barney says, reaching down to shake my hand.

  “He’s the one with the manners,” Bear tells me.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I tell him, no comment on the manners.

  “What are you two talking about, anyway?” Dean asks, eyeing Bear and me.

  “I’m just filling in Holly here on what an asshole you are,” Bear tells him, dodging Dean’s fist.

  “Must’ve been a short talk, then,” Dean retorts, dropping down into the sand. “’Cause I’m fuckin’ awesome.”