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"Do you have it?"
The boy nods wrapping his chubby hands around the base of the ice cream cone.
"Are you sure?"
He nods again. I let go. And ten seconds later, it's on the ground. His bottom lip juts out and his eyes fill with tears.
"Please don't scream, kid," I mutter. Then louder with a sing-songy voice, "No worries. I'll make you a special one."
I pour soft-serve ice cream in a cup, stick a cone upside down on top of it, and throw gummy bears around it from my personal stash I store under the counter. Not Ashton's special gummies, though those might chill these sugar-hopped kids the hell out. Where are their parents? Why do I feel like half my job is babysitting when I'm stationed here? And today is especially chaotic.
"I never want to work the stand ever again when Grant is on lifeguard duty," I grumble to Kaely.
"It's usually not this bad on Tuesdays," she says. "It must be because of the holiday weekend. And, well ... him. So are you two--"
"Nothing," I cut her off. "We're nothing."
"Order's up!" Squirrel calls out. I walk away from her and her wide, shocked eyes.
Squirrel is singing to a song that isn't playing anywhere but in his head, flipping burgers, turning dogs, and frying fries like he's on a ride at Disneyland. He is the happiest place on earth.
"How do you function?" I ask, loading up a tray with the order.
"Huh?" he asks, turning in my direction. His next words come out broken, like he's listening to them in his head before repeating them out loud. "Oh, um, I just ... exist. And like, express gratitude for being alive. You know?"
"No," I say, and leave him to his gratifying existence.
"Are you okay?" Kaely asks, wiping chocolate off the cheeks of a small child who couldn't find the spoons so decided to eat the hot fudge sundae with his face.
"I'm ..." But I can't say it. I'm not fine. But I don't really know what's gotten into me, other than Sophia's comment on the shuttle.
I search for her in her vintage polka dot bikini and cat-eye sunglasses. She's applying sunscreen and glancing up at Grant from beneath her dark lenses to see if he's watching. But he's not. He's watching the mayhem in the pool. He blows his whistle at some boys who are wrestling to push each other in. The ultimate professional. "He's so fricken nice, isn't he?"
"He is," Kaely responds like it's an indisputable fact. "We all deserve a nice guy, Lana."
"But he's not mine."
"Then step aside girl," the third cashier says, walking by with popcorn and cotton candy. I almost forgot she was here. "Let someone else have a shot. There are plenty of us who would claim that man in a second."
"Right. I should, step aside," I say feebly.
Kaely opens her mouth so wide she looks like a blow-up doll. "You can't let your phobia claim you, Lana." She says this with such conviction, I half expect her to thrust her fist in the air. "You have to face it head on, and be stronger than your biggest fear."
"What the hell you talkin' 'bout?" the girl asks from the other side of Kaely. "There ain't nothin' to be afraid of with that man, expect keepin' other women from stealin' him."
"Grant wouldn't let anyone steal him," Kaely says like she's appalled by the idea and feels compelled to defend his honor.
"Because it should be his choice," I say quietly.
Kaely nods, like the argument is settled. But that's not what just happened. He needs to know what his choices are, or are not, before he can make that decision. I need to remind him.
At the end of the shift, I feel sticky, sweaty and have ice cream
smeared in places that it shouldn't be. I never want to be a mother. After today, I'm contemplating getting my ovaries removed. Right now, I want nothing more than to shower and lie in a hammock with a book for the rest of the night.
Ashton parks the bev cart as we pass. Rhett looks like he's about to kiss the ground and thank the Universe that he's still alive. She doesn't look at me. I can't believe she's this upset with me for doing the right thing. But I guess I don't really know her that well.
As Kaely and I continue up the small hill to the main building, I spot Lily walking off the tennis court with Lance. She waves when she sees us. We walk by Brendan leaning against a golf cart talking with an older gentleman. Their conversation looks serious and intense--Brendan's probably offering him insider trading tips.
