Brooklyn 1975

by Robert Moeller

  She looks at me like I’m stupid, or something. “Only thing fresh around her is the air, or the fish. The fish is always fresh.” She says.

  ‘Whatever.”

  I get everything and throw it in a little cart and bring it up front to pay. A young girl was the cashier and she smiled at me. “You surfing today? She asks.

  “Yeah, maybe.” I say, more to amuse myself than anything.

  “Maybe I’ll see you down there later.” She says.

  “Maybe.” I pay her. No hassles about the beer, nothing. I smile at the girl and notice that her nose is peeling from the sun. “See you later.” I say.

  “Bye. Have a nice day.” She says.

  Come to think of it she is like the third person today that has told me to have a nice day. What’s with that? I live in Brooklyn my whole life and nobody has ever said that to me, not even my mother. Something must be wrong with these people. Have a nice day. In Brooklyn, it’s more like -- go fuck yourself!

  Back at the car, I toss the bag of sandwiches at the girls and empty the beer into the cooler and cover them with ice. Then, I put the cooler in the back of the car and get back in and toss the cigarettes on the dashboard. “These people don’t know how to make a sandwich up here, they’re fucking backward.”

  “What did you get?” Angela asked.

  “Roast beef, plain. Trust me, it was the only thing that even looked half-good. And no fresh bread, just these things called bulky rolls, or some shit. Looks like they were baked last year.”

  Anyway, I start the car and turn off on this little road. The road is lined with these scraggily trees and the dirt looks like it is half sand. Every once in a while we pass a house tucked into the woods and they all have towels hanging on clothes lines and the towels kind of look like flags, or something. Then, we turn off onto another road and there are these houses perched on big sand dunes. “Anyone see the water yet?” I ask.

  “I think I hear the waves.” Marty says.

  We pass a sign that says beach parking and right past it is a little parking lot. I turn in and no one is collecting money or anything. The parking lot is on top of this huge dune and when you look down… When you look down everyone in the car says “Holy Shit” at the same time. The girls are yelling and to tell you the truth, I was yelling too. The view is completely amazing, from like a movie, or something. I mean, even the pictures in Marty’s calendar aren’t as nice as what we are sitting here looking at. Me, I’ve never seen anything like it. Sometimes you hear people say something was breathtaking. Well, now I understood what they meant. I almost couldn’t get out of the car.

  And suddenly the air was filled with this smell. It was the purest thing, a mixture of the saltiness of the ocean and the smell of trees, maybe, like, wet trees. And then, if you just sat there, you could hear these big waves crashing into shore the spray rode the wind right up the side of the dune and washed over us.

  “This isn’t Coney Island.” Marty said.

  “Yeah, no rides.” I joked.

  Angela didn’t say anything but just sat there staring out at the ocean. I nudged her. “Hey, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know, I mean I’ve never seen anything like this. I’m, I’m speechless.” She said.

  “I know what you’re saying.” I said. “But are we just going to sit here all day? Let’s go. Let’s get down there.”

  We piled out of the car and grabbed our stuff. I slung the cooler over my shoulder and led the girls down the front of the dune along a little path that ran across the front of it. It was like walking down the side of a five-story apartment building. When we were down on the beach we all ran toward the water. The beach angled up as you got closer to the ocean than fell away. We stopped on the rise and pitched camp. The girls took a sheet that one of them had stripped off a bed at our cottage and fought with the wind to get down flat on the sand. I opened a beer, lit a cigarette and sat on the cooler.

  “Put your sneakers on a corner of that, surfer boy.” Angela said. “Hold it down.”

  I kicked my sneaker off and flipped them in the direction that Angela was pointing.

  “Very helpful we are today.” She said.

  I shrugged and sat there watching these huge waves coasting toward us before folding up and exploding on the shore. They were like bombs going off. Looking down the beach, it seemed to go on forever. The high cliffs meandered along next to the shore for as far as you could see. Angela squealed and I turned around. “Look.” She said, pointing out toward the water. “A surfer, surfer boy. A real live surfer.”

  I looked and sure enough there was this kid out there sitting on a long surfboard and he looked like he was paddling along looking for something as he bobbed up and down in the churning surf. Angela kissed me and then Marty did the same thing and they both laughed. “Let’s see your moves, surfer boy.” Marty said.

  “You daring me?” I said.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m daring you.”

  “Double dare.” Angela said.

  “If Junior were here with us, he’d be in already.” Marty said.

  “Yeah, right, like he’d be surfing too.” I said.

  I finished my beer and stuffed the cigarette into it, stood up and started running. I could hear the girls shrieking and laughing behind me. I’ve been tackled by some mean mother - fuckers before, hits that left your mouth filled with puke, but the wave that plowed into me hit so hard that I was tossed in the air like a rag doll and dragged under. Then it rolled me across the bottom, which was covered in seashells and rocks before spitting me out in water about a foot deep.

  I felt like I had a concussion and when I stood up I noticed that my bathing suit was down around my ankles. I looked up and the girls were pointing at something behind me. When I turned to look another wave just pulverized me. It was like someone was swinging the side of a building at my face. This time, though, I was able to duck under most of it and managed to stay upright. I reached down and grabbed my bathing suit before I lost it completely and held it in my hand. Another wave was coming and this time I just dove under it and floated up behind the crashing white water.

  My head was clearing and I waved to the girls to come in. “Come on. It’s beautiful.” I yelled. They came running down to the water’s edge. “What?” Angela said. “Are you all right?” I floated in the shallow water and put my suit back on before standing up. “Cute white ass.” Marty said.

  “White?” I smiled.

  “Yup, white like loose-leaf paper.”

  “Come in, don’t be chickens.” I said. Then I dove under another wave.

  This is going to sound stupid but I couldn’t help but feel like the ocean was scrubbing me clean. Not like washing me, or anything, but like taking off layers of built up paint, you know what I’m saying? The ocean was like a giant washing machine for your problems. It just took them and shook and pushed until they fell away. I’m serious, and I’d only been in the water for a little while. “Come on in, will you.” I shouted.

  The girls were running back and forth like little sea birds. Every time a wave came in they turned and ran back up the beach. “Just run in.” I said. “The water is perfect. I’ll protect you from the waves.”

  I could hear them counting out loud and when they reached five they started running. Seeing the wave that was coming, me, I’d of waited till eight. But five it was and they both ran until they were knocked down. Marty floated up out of the frothy water next to me. Her bikini top was down around her waist and her breasts were glistening in the sun.

  Nice white tits.” I said, as Marty wiped her nose, still not noticing that her top was missing. “Oh my god.” She said, without bothering to turn away from me.

  Angela swam over and whistled at Marty. I looked at both of them before noticing a wave bearing down on us out of the corner of my eye. “Duck.” I yelled. When I popped up behind the wave I could see Marty bobbing in the surf near the beach and when she stood up the bottom of her bathing suit was pulled down exposing
her ass. This time I whistled. “What are stripping here?” I said.

  She stood in the bubbling water by the shore and fixed herself. Not many people were on the beach so it didn’t really matter much. Angela swam over to me and we floated around together between the waves and dove under the biggest ones. Marty struggled through the surf and joined us.

  Despite what you might think, I’d didn’t have a bad life and even though somewhere inside of me I missed Junior terribly and worried about what was going on back home, this was the best afternoon of my life. The waves alone with their crushing power were beating every bad memory out of me. And having the girls here, and Marty’s malfunctioning bathing suit, that sealed the deal. Truth was, I couldn’t remember being this happy, and that’s saying a lot since I just watched my best friend getting shot only yesterday. I suppose, if you think about, Junior wasn’t even dead for twenty-four hours. I mean, maybe there was something wrong with me. Or maybe, it just hadn’t hit me yet. Who knows?

  “Let’s get out and rest for a while.” Angela said. “And I want to get some sun too.”

  “And a cold beer.” I said.

  “And some weed.” Marty said.

  “Let’s race back to the beach.” I said, and then watched as the girls struggled through the water ahead of me. Both of them were beautiful. Marty might have been just a little better looking but Angela was no slouch. She was taller than Marty with an ass almost as round and prominent. Both of them had small breasts, small but full of life, if you know what I’m saying. Marty was darker-skinned but with Angela being Sicilian, she was pretty dark too. Both of them were like pre-tanned.

  Back at our blanket, we all toweled off and I opened some beer. It hit the spot the way something icy-cold does on a hot day. The girls wanted to split a sandwich, so I tossed Angela one from the cooler. She opened it and handed half to Marty, who was sitting next to her with a towel draped over her knees. I lit a cigarette and stood behind them looking out at the ocean. I’ve been to a lot of beaches; Coney Island, Brighton Beach, Manhattan Beach, Riis Park, Jones Beach, Breezy Point, and Far Rockaway, you name it. But nothing compared to this. This was the real deal. It stretched for as far as the eye could see in either direction and looked like it must have a couple of hundred years ago. There was no trash and on this, a perfect beach day, there weren’t that many people here. I’m used to going to the beach and having your blanket like six inches from the people next to you. And the waves, forget about it. In Brooklyn, the waves are nothing. You barely notice them. And most days, the water is filthy. You’ve heard of a Coney Island white fish, right? It’s a condom floating in the water. Shit, maybe I’d just stay here.

  “Too bad we don’t have a radio?” Angela said, looking back at me.

  “Yeah, that would be cool. Something big.” Marty said.

  “No stores out here. All you can get is beach stuff and shitty sandwiches.” I said.

  “There must be something. A town somewhere.” Angela said. “You know, some kind of store.”

  “Yeah, where do people who live here get their shit?” Marty asked.

  “We can look around later.” I said. “See what’s what.”

  “Let’s get high.” Angela said. “This is too perfect not to be high.”

  “If it’s perfect why do you need to get high? You know, just have a couple of beers or something.” I was being a smart-ass and Angela ignored me.

  “Let’s go down by the water and smoke.” She said. “Come on, Marty.”

  “I’m just going to sit here and enjoy the view.” I said. “You guys go. I’ll guard the fort.”

  “You mean you’ll guard the beer.” Marty said.

  “That too. I’ll guard everything.”

  The girls went down to the water and sat in the sand smoking and talking. I inhaled my beer and opened another. I was just sitting there taking everything in, you know, sort of spacing out, when I notice three guys walk over and start talking to the girls. They were all wearing dress shirts and shorts, like khaki shorts, or something and they all had blond hair and freckles. One of them was holding shoes in his hand. All of them were tall and skinny.

  If I was back home and this was happening, Junior and I would have been down there in a split second. It was just what you had to do, no questions asked. Here, I figure, things are different, you know, more low-key. I mean these guys looked harmless, even stupid, dressed like they were. Who the fuck comes to the beach dressed like that anyway? Like an accountant, or something? Anyway, I’m sitting there watching these three stilts talking to the girls when one of them runs into the waves and than turns around and kicks water on the girls. You know, splashes them.

  I stand up and yell “Hey.” And then trot down there.

  “There a problem here?” I ask, giving one of them the eye. They look at me like I’m breaking up a private party or something.

  One of them goes “No, we’re just talking to the girls.” He sounds like Ted Kennedy, or something, real snotty and with that funny accent. I look down and I can see the girls smiling. They think the whole thing is funny.

  Another of the boys says. “We’re just out of school, Andover, you know it.”

  “I don’t know shit.” I say.

  The girls shake their heads no. “We’re from Brooklyn.” Angela says.

  “Yeah, and we never heard of bend over, or whatever your school is called.” I say, sort of smiling.

  “Andover.” The boy says. “It’s a prep school. We live there.”

  “You live at school?” Marty says, looking up at them. “That must suck.”

  “Sort of like college.” Angela said. “I’ve heard of that.”

  “Exactly.” One of the boys says. “Just like college except it’s high school.”

  “You have a football team?” I ask, trying to be friendly.

  “Yes. But we play lacrosse.”

  “La what?” I say.

  “Lacrosse.”

  “It’s an old American Indian game. Sort of like hockey except the ball is played in the air and you use sticks with baskets.”

  I’m trying to keep a straight face and also trying to figure out what the fuck this kid is talking about. The whole basket thing doesn’t make sense to me but I decide not to pursue it instead I change the subject.

  “You trying to pick up my girlfriend?” I ask.

  “Girlfriends!” The girls say in unison.

  “Oh, no.” One of them says. “We were just chatting them up.”

  Just the way they talk is cracking me up, so I decide to let them be. They’re not even worth fucking with. They all act like the butler in some old movie. “We have some beer if you want.” I say. “Nice and cold.”

  “And some weed if you want.” Angela says.

  “Yeah, we come to the beach prepared.” Marty says, and stands up. I can see the boys are trying to be polite but their eyes betray them. Marty seems to know this and walks out into the water and bends over to wash the sand off her hands. These prep school boys haven’t seen shit like that before and then Angela gets up too and joins Marty in the surf.

  One of the boys stutters. “Uh, we’d like to stay, but we better go.”

  Better go is right before your pants explode, I’m thinking to myself.

  “Yeah, nice meeting you but my parents are expecting us soon. You know how that is.”

  “Actually, I don’t but I see what you’re saying.” I say. “We’ll be around for a couple of days. Don’t be shy.”