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CRUSHED
MOLLIE THEN
Phew, I’m glad I don’t have to tell that tale just yet. Owen and I gather our things, take down the umbrella and drag the lifeguard stand up to the dunes. Fortunately, there’s no one on the beach so we don’t need to evacuate anyone. After we blow the whistle, just to make sure, we walk up and over the dunes to our houses.
The drizzle that was mildly annoying turns to a downpour and we run to get under my house which stands on stilts.
“That came out of nowhere,” he says, pulling his drenched hoodie off. He has no t-shirt on so his chest is bare. This is not unusual as I’ve seen him this way for the past ten days, every single day. Somehow, under the house, after running, his bare torso hits different. He’s really handsome, and exactly the type of guy I like. Dark hair, blue eyes, lean build, not to mention he’s funny and cares about people.
Last week he helped a little girl get her little boat that got swept by a wave. Poor thing was inconsolable, and her mom couldn’t leave her to go fetch it. Owen immediately hopped down off the chair and shouted, “Rescue!”
He ran into the surf with his buoy and swam out to the little boat that was floating along. When he got back to the sand, he kneeled down and presented the boat to the grill like it was a gift. The smile she gave him was worth it, he said. The mom gave him a hug that lasted a little longer than was probably appropriate but I get it—he’s definitely huggable.
“Today was fun,” I tell him because it was.
He smiles at me as he makes his way to his yard. There’s a tiny “fence” between them that he can easily hop over because it’s like two logs.
“Pick you up at eight?” he asks and I’m confused.
“Oh yeah, Dirk’s party,” I say remembering. “I’ll be ready to go!” He leaps over the fence and does a goofy little dance. I laugh heading to the outdoor shower to rinse off before going inside.
I’m surprised to find my mom home when I get inside sitting on the couch reading the weekly paper.
“Hey, when did you get in?” I ask her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“About an hour ago,” she says, barely looking up from the paper. “I heard the thunder.”
“Yeah, we got radioed that the beach is closed the rest of the day. I’m going to go shower and take a nap—going to a party later.”
“Should we get pizza?” she asks and I nod.
This is the first time she’s come down since I’ve been here. She begged me to come here for the summer so we could spend some time together before I go to college. The thing is she’s always busy and I almost never see her. When my parents got a divorce, I was only five. They share full custody and in theory, I was supposed to spend an equal amount of time between the two of them. In reality, I live with my dad and see my mom when she has time for me.
My dad remarried and lives closer to my school, mom kept our house but works 80 hours a week. She is an advertising executive and always tells me that because she’s a woman she has to work ten times harder than the other executives. There’s a lot of wining and dining that goes along with her work as well. I’ve been stood up by her more times than I count. I know she loves me, but making time for me doesn’t seem to be a priority for her.
This summer is supposed to make up for the time she’s missed. She promised to be here most of the time, with occasional trips back to the city. Not surprising it’s been the opposite.
“Hey, mom?” I ask and she turns to me. “Are you going to be here for the Fourth?”
“I plan on it,” she says. “I’m wrapping a few things up and then I’m going to stay down here. I need a break so badly.” She seems sincere, but I’ve been burned before.
“Awesome, I’ll make sure we have supplies and we can have a little party then walk to the fireworks.”
“Perfect,” she says and goes back to flipping through the paper.
There’s a knock on my bedroom door and I realize I must have fallen asleep.
“Molls, there’s a boy here for you,” mom calls through my door.
“Be right out,” I call and scramble to throw on a short cotton dress, flip flops, and a hoodie in case it gets chilly. The rain has stopped and it feels warm but being without a hoodie or sweater is a rookie move I won’t make.
I don’t have enough time for a lot of makeup but that’s not really my thing anyway, so I swipe on some mascara and lip gloss and head downstairs.
Owen is standing with his hands in his pockets looking a little nervous.
“Sorry, I must have fallen asleep,” I say, “looks like you’ve met Owen, he’s my guard partner and our next-door neighbor.”
“He was telling me that, I’ve met his Aunt Lucy a few times. I can’t believe how lucky you guys are to have an assignment on your street. When I was a guard, I used to have to ride my bike to Holgate and back every day—good for the legs.”
