Escape to the beach: Rebecca & Curtis as teenagers

 

The path to the beach was unlit, but the moon was bright. I held onto the back of Curtis’s t-shirt when the ground was uneven. He knew the way, and walked unhurriedly as a breeze rustled the dry reeds lining the path.

 

Sand slipped into my shoes, and then the ocean spread out before us, blacker than the sky, glinting where the moon touched its surface. A dark freighter moved slowly on the horizon.

 

“That’s the garbage barge,” Curtis said, pointing. “Takes the sewage away.”

 

We walked across the gray sand dunes towards the shuttered snack bar and the parking lot where I could see a few cars, lit from inside. I thought I could faintly hear the song “Red Red Wine” playing on a car radio. There was a clinking in the air, like metal chains, and I realized it was the playground swings, twisting and knocking together in the salty breeze. Curtis stopped in front of the snack bar, lifted a metal trash can, and then tipped it over so that its flat bottom faced the sky.

 

He vaulted onto the can, then stood and reached his arms up to the edge of the flat snack bar roof. Smoothly, he pulled himself up and over. His shoes disappeared and then his head peeked over the edge, looking down at me.

 

“Come on up,” he said, stretching his hands towards me.

 

I scraped my leg as I hauled myself onto the metal can. It rocked beneath my feet, and then Curtis was grabbing my wrists.

 

“Hold on tight.”

 

My feet left the can, and I was in the air being yanked towards the roof. I landed beside him, skinning my elbows on the rough tar. He held onto me, and then let go. I lay there for a moment. The roof was littered with beer bottles, crushed cigarette cartons, and scrawled graffiti that looked like it had been written in chalk. Curtis stood at the edge of the roof, hands on his hips, as though surveying his kingdom. I tried to make out the white castle in the distance, but I couldn’t see it.

 

“I’ve thought about doing that sometimes,” Curtis was saying. “Just swimming into the sea in the dark.”

 

I heard him breathing out, the way Aunt Bea exhaled smoke, and I shivered.

 

“Curtis,” I said.

 

He turned around, and dropped to sit beside me, letting his knee balance against mine for a moment. We looked at the blackness of the sky and the water. There was so much endless space it might swallow you without a sound. You couldn’t guess what was in front of you or behind you, and even the things inside us suddenly seemed like a terrible mystery. I shut my eyes and leaned against Curtis. 

©Lauren Frankel 2014