One Hot Summer

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Macy has taken both our arms and is pulling us toward the man. “Benvenido muchachas!” At least he’s friendly, unlike the guy driving that bus back there.

  “Veo que te vas a casar. ¿Quién es el afortunado?” I literally have no clue what he’s asking. I took Spanish classes from middle school through college, and I don’t know where most of the knowledge went. However, I don’t think I’m alone with that.

  “Gracias,” Grace responds. I know the man was asking a question. I could tell by the tone he was speaking, so I’m almost positive he wasn’t requesting gratitude.

  “Si, senor. Grace se va a cesar con un hombre maravilloso llamado, Rex.”

  “Ah, muy bien!”

  “You speak fluent Spanish? I ask Macy.” We’ve been friends forever, and I had no clue she spoke Spanish this well.

  “Rosetta Stone,” she replies.

  “Wow, you were really prepared for this trip huh?” I ask as I clamber into the shuttle.

  “Well, I know you aren’t a planner, and I didn’t want Grace to stress over any detail, so yeah, I wanted to make sure this weekend is perfect.”

  I feel like a total asshole now. I thought she was taking care of the hotel and I was taking care of the flight. I didn’t realize she was doing extra credit. I would have helped.

  “It’s not that I’m not a planner. I just—I like to go with the flow. Planning stresses me out.”

  “I know that. That’s why I did what I did. I like to plan. We’re all good, okay?” I feel like she’s saying we’re all good, but I’m wondering if she’s feeling something else.

  * * *

  Thankfully, the ride to the hotel was simple. It took about a half hour, but we’re here at what looks like paradise. Maybe a girl’s weekend away isn’t so bad after all. “You know, I heard hot guys hang out around this hotel,” Macy says as we’re waiting for our room keys.

  “Oh yeah, who did you hear that from?”

  “I saw it on Tripadvisor,” she says nonchalantly.

  “People review a hotel based on the good-looking guests?” That’s new.

  Macy shrugs. Her phone rings for the third time since we’ve gotten off the plane. She’s taken each call privately by taking a step away from us, or by curling into the corner of her seat on the shuttle and rushing someone off the phone. She’s up to something.

  “I’m just going to run to the bathroom,” Grace says, jogging off in the other direction.

  Macy holds up her finger in response to Grace, and to the question I was about to ask regarding check-in. Macy walks off with her phone again, smiling as she says hello to whoever is on the other line. Rather than staying put like Macy probably preferred, I follow her, curious to hear who she’s talking to. I keep a little distance so she doesn’t notice I’m here, but I’m close enough to listen in to her conversation.

  “I love you too. I already miss you like crazy, but the weekend will go by fast and Sunday will be here before you know it,” she says, cupping her hand around the phone.

  Macy is single.

  Macy was single.

  Macy is in love, so she’s not single.

  She ends the call and turns around, her nose stopping a few inches from mine. “Who is he?” I question.

  “Jesus, Alexa. Were you listening to my entire conversation?”

  “I was. Is that why you’ve been coming home from work late?”

  Macy can’t stop the redness from creeping over her cheeks as she presses her fingers against her lips. “I didn’t want to steal the thunder right now. Grace is enjoying the attention and I want this time to be about her.”

  “Who is he?” I repeat.

  “Keller Rain. He’s the junior editor in my office.”

  “Wait, you said you had to travel with the junior editor on your last business trip, and how annoying it would be that it was just the two of you and you’d have to show him all the ropes.” I repeat her words verbatim.

  Her big brown eyes go wide as she stares at me with contemplation. “Well, I lied. That business trip was the best week of my life.”

  I wrap my arms around Macy and hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Really?” she asks. She truly sounds shocked by my comment.

  “Of course, I want to meet him, silly.”

  “I feel bad, Alexa. I know you keep saying you aren’t looking for a guy, but I also know the luck you’d had these last two years, and with Grace getting married in a few weeks, I also wanted to be careful about your feelings.”

  I felt fine until this very moment. I hadn’t felt jealous of Grace.

  Well, maybe a little.

  I hadn’t felt bad for myself, at least.

  I guess, maybe a little.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her. “I plan on making one hell of a cat lady someday. As soon as I’m living on my own without two roommates who aren’t allergic to cats, I am getting ten cats.”

  Now, I feel even worse.

  I don’t like cats.

  I want to be happy and in love too.

  “Ladies, let’s get the keys so the weekend can begin,” Grace says, fanning a handful of brochures in the air.

  * * *

  Macy mentioned something about our room being a suit, and while the meaning of suite doesn’t quite match up to what I was expecting, there are two beds and a pullout couch. At least no one needs to share sleeping space. The view is beautiful, though. The water is teal; the waves are monstrous, and the sand is almost white. There aren’t many people on the beach as I expected, but the pool looks packed. “Last one to the pool bar is a single rotten egg,” Grace shouts, tearing her suitcase open.

  A single rotten egg. I might as well just take my time then.

  3

  Two rounds of drinks, and Grace is plastered in the pool. Macy is even getting loud which I don’t see often. “There’s something different about you,” Grace tells Macy. “You’ve been on the phone a lot today, and your cheeks have been red each time you’ve gotten off the phone. I know you, Macy Tyme. You’ve met someone, and if you don’t tell me all about it right now, I’m going to pout.”

  Grace tosses her head back in defeat. “No, no, no, it’s nothing,” she says. “This weekend is about you, missy.”

  “But wouldn’t it be fun if we were both happy and in love this weekend? We are both happy and in love, aren’t we? You are holding out.”

  “Oh my gosh, you’re not supposed to care about my love life this weekend, please, let’s just focus on you,” Macy insists.

  “I will be twenty times happier if you tell me what’s going on,” Grace continues.

  I’m watching this banter, feeling like a riptide is pulling me in the exact opposite direction. If only pools had riptides.

  “Okay, fine. His name is Keller Rain—” The story begins the same way it did when she was telling me.

  I’m trying to smile. I’m trying to look happy for my two best friends who are in love and smitten with life, but there’s also this sinking feeling in the bottom of my stomach.

  “No way. He said that to you?” Grace counters whatever Macy told her.

  “Yes, it was the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” she swoons.

  Grace has her hands on her chest and she’s smiling from ear to ear. “Tell me more. I need all the details.”

  “Hey guys,” I speak up. “My stomach is bugging me. I’m just going to run to the room real quick. I might have accidentally had some of the water.”

  “Oh no,” Macy yells over. “I have Pepto and Tums in my vanity case if you need it. If you aren’t back within a half hour we’ll come look for you, okay?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I tell them. “No need to worry.” To ensure they don’t worry, I raise my hand to the bartender at the swim-up bar. “Could I order these ladies another round of margaritas?”

  “Si, senorita. Coming right up.”

  While Grace and Macy are swimming toward the bar, I take th
e opportunity to climb out, grab my towel and head off toward the lobby of the hotel. I just need a breather. The time will allow them to finish gushing about their love lives so we can get back to acting like careless adults for the rest of the weekend.

  On the way to the elevators, I spot the concierge desk, and a man waiting for an unsuspecting tourist with his hands behind his back. He spots me spotting him. “Excuse me, miss, are you interested in any of our excursions? We have plenty leaving here from the hotel.”

  “No, thank you,” I tell him, continuing to walk by.

  “We have boating, sunset cruises at the marina, hikes, you name it.”

  I shouldn’t have looked over again, but he’s still staring at me as if I was giving him the idea that I’m interested. “Thanks anyway,” I offer.

  “Aw, come on. Help a guy out. I have to fill my quota for the day and it’s getting late.” His voice is softer for the last comment. His statement also sounds like more of a plea.

  I don’t know what it is about him that makes me stop to hear what he has to say, but it could be because my stomach doesn’t hurt, and I was just looking for a selfish excuse to get a breather away from the love connection stories.

  “Okay, lay it on me,” I tell him. I’m looking directly at his face, trying to act as interested as I’m sure he wants me to appear. He’s talking and I’m trying to figure out if he’s native to Mexico or American with a nice tan. The dark hair and eyes aren’t clarifying my debating. His smile is a bit entrancing, and he’s got these dimples that scream “I’m cute.” I wonder why he’s selling excursions at a hotel, what made him want to do this for a living. Maybe he’s just helping a friend out.

  “You aren’t listening to anything I’m saying, are you?” His question pulls me out of my wandering thoughts.

  “I’m sorry. Look, I’m here on a girls' weekend for my best friend’s bachelorette party. I’m not a big party girl and my two friends are currently in the pool exchanging spit swapping stories. I told them I had a stomachache, ran away to clear my head, and here I am now trying to focus on what you’re hoping I will be interested in.”

  The guy looks taken aback by my explanation, most likely because it was too much information for someone who is just trying to fill their quota.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were running away from something,” he says.

  “It’s okay. My friends might be interested in doing one of these excursions tomorrow though, so I’ll take a couple of the pamphlets and see what they want to do.”

  “That would be awesome,” he says.

  As he’s collecting the packets of information to give me, I notice a lonesome brochure in the middle of the table. Lovers Beach.

  “Lovers Beach?” I question. “Is that where the mermaids live?”

  “I’m Lincoln,” the man says, holding his hand out for me to shake.

  “Alex,” I reply, shaking his hand, curious why my comment would provoke a handshake.

  “Alex, I like your sense of humor. There’s a Divorce Beach too if you’re interested.”

  I shrug. “Nah, I’d have to get married first to consider that option.”

  “Touché,” Lincoln replies.

  “How long does it take to get to Lovers Beach?” I ask, curious about the place. It looks beautiful and secluded, which doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world at the moment.

  “It’s actually a fairly quick hike that starts right out at the beach behind the hotel. I don’t recommend going alone, however.”

  “Of course,” I reply with haste. “What single person should go to Lovers Beach alone, right?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he continues.

  “I fly solo, Lincoln. Just answer me this … could I make it back in a half hour?”

  His eyebrows furrow like I’m asking a ridiculous question. “I guess if you hurry and just take a peek at the sights you could make it there and back within a half hour. I don’t recommend—”

  “Thank you for all your help. I will stop back with my friends later when they figure out what they want to do tomorrow.”

  “Alex,” he calls my name as I’m walking away with the papers and the Lovers Beach brochure. “Please don’t go over there alone.”

  I glance down at my watch. “Lincoln, I’m running up to my room and heading to the beach to take a quick gander. I’ll be back before sunset. Nothing to worry about. I appreciate your warning.”

  I’m not stupid. He just wants me to hire him to escort me to the tourist trap.

  I use the bathroom in our room in case the girls come looking for me. I want them to see I moved a few things around on the sink so they know I was here. With the drinks pouring through them though, I’ll be an afterthought a half hour from now.

  I study the map on the brochure as I cross the beach and head toward the rocks that connect this inlet to the Lovers Beach inlet. I used to hike with my parents up in New Hampshire when I was a kid, and these rocks don’t look too daunting from here. In fact, I reach the peak within five minutes, noticing it’s the same distance down to Lovers Beach as it was for me to reach this area.

  With careful steps, I descend the rock gorges, making it down to the empty beach. The view is beautiful as it was in the photographs on the brochure. There’s nothing but silence and salty ocean air. Knowing I have a few minutes to take in the breathtaking scene, I take a seat on the bottom rock, kick off my shoes and curl my knees in my chest.

  I’m single on Lovers Beach. The irony stings.

  There’s more irony than that though. It’s called Lover’s beach, but there isn’t much sand here. The photo made it look like there was an entire beach sprawled out in front of the rock formation, but I could only walk a few feet forward before hitting the water. The waves look a little a crazy anyway, so I’m good right here.

  I lean back into my hands, allowing the hot sun to warm me from the outside and down to my core. I need to let my jealousy go. I’ve never been a jealous person. I’ve also never been the type of person who needs a man to make me happy. Macy is the same way, but now that I’ve seemingly lost her to the sunny side, I have the feeling I’m missing something.

  My free few minutes come and go, and I know it’s time to head back to the main beach so Macy and Grace don’t go looking for me. They’re probably still gushing about their men, anyway. God knows Grace can go on and on about Rex.

  Just let it go, I tell myself again.

  As I take my first step over the peak, I notice the tide has come in very quickly and search for the area of sand I came over on, but all I see are rocks.

  Rocks, and seven-foot-high crashing waves.

  Shit.

  I watch and wait a few minutes, making my way down a few more rocks to get as close as I can to make a run for it when the tide goes back out, but I find myself moving backward as the tide continues to move in.

  I’m stuck.

  I close my eyes and pull in a deep breath, trying to avoid freaking out. If the tide came in quickly, I’m sure it will go out just as fast. It must.

  Except the water keeps rising on the side of the beach I need to get back to; the tide is closing me into an inlet barricaded by boulders.

  Without a clue of what to do, I climb back up to the top, settling myself on a rock, officially panicking. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and try to pull up Google.

  I didn’t get the international plan on my phone like I was supposed to. I completely forgot. I don’t have any sort of signal, even if I were to pay a million dollars in charges.

  I’m truly stuck. Grace and Macy are going to kill me, if I don’t get killed up here on my own.

  “I was hoping you’d listen,” I hear from behind a rock just slightly above where I’m sitting. His hand reaches around the rock, but I don’t see his face until I offer him my hand in return. Lincoln from the concierge desk.

  “You didn’t mention I would get stuck up here. You could have spit those words out at any point, don’t
you think?”

  “You seemed hell-bent on coming,” he says.

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I ask him, not worried about hiding my infuriation.

  “Actually, no. I come up here every night. It’s the best time to unwind in solitude.”

  “You told me I could make back within a half hour,” I remind him.

  “You could have if you only took a half hour from when we were talking. It’s been forty minutes since then. The tide moves in fast here.”

  “So, what, I’m stuck now? Until when?”

  Lincoln looks down at his watch. The watch that isn’t fancy, but one I might see on a survivalist who is living in the jungle. His lips quark to the side and nods his head. “You’re going to be stuck here for about two hours, give or take a few minutes. Normally it wouldn’t be so bad, but there was a hurricane of the coast a few days ago, and the tides are still recovering.”

  “They will never forgive me for this,” I speak out loud.

  “Probably not,” he agrees. “Why can’t you just be happy for your two friends? Isn’t that what a friend is supposed to do?”

  “Thanks,” I tell him. “I get stuck up here while trying to clear my own demonic thoughts and you’re going to make me feel even worse?”

  “Sorry, I was just asking,” he says.

  “Do you have a phone or something?” I ask.

  “A phone?” I don’t think my words were unclear. I’m sure he’s familiar with a phone.

  “Yes, you know, the thing you can make calls from, and in recent days use the internet on too?”

  “I know what a phone is. I’m just not crazy enough to bring one over to Lovers Island with me. Do you know how many people have lost phones out of their pockets just making the hike over to the beach?”

  “Great.”

  “I told the guy taking over the concierge that a visitor was planning to trek over to Lovers Beach alone, and I’d keep an eye out for you. If your friends are concerned and looking for you, the hotel is small enough that they’ll find out a single girl made this trek alone. I’m sure they’ll put two and two together and tell them you’re with me, so not to worry.”