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Cara lowers her sunglasses, her smile wide and open. "Think this ritzy place has buckets?"
I don't know, but the women want to play in the sand? I'll get them every sandcastle building set I can find.
I've always wondered what it would be like to play in the sand. Maybe they'll let me join.
A couple of hours later, I'm sniping at Declan as a section of our nearly three feet tall masterpiece crumbles into the moat I'm sitting in. Bree and Cara are sitting cross-legged in the sand as Declan and I work frantically to defend against the tide.
"Wait, that turret isn't secure. It needs to be reinforced."
"It's fucking secure, man. Worry about your moat. The tide is coming in. Work faster asshole," I say.
"Why did you build it so close to the water?" Declan grumbles at the women, frantically scooping the water away.
Bree and Cara exchange grins. "Because that's half the fun," Cara says with a cheeky grin. "It's sand Declan. It's not meant to last forever. The goal is to build the best castle you can, then defend it with everything you have in you until the water beats you. It's about the battle. Not about keeping it forever."
I freeze, staring down at my sand covered hands. Her words crawl through me like an army of sand crabs, scratching and digging, unearthing snippets of memories. My Abuelita said something similar one night. It was just the two of us in her kitchen, which itself was a rarity. Abuelita's house, and especially her kitchen, was the hub for our family and our neighborhood. It was never empty. Except that night we had it to ourselves. Abuelita was icing a Tres Leches cake, and I swear I had to wipe the drool off my chin. I was complaining, as only kids can, about how long it was taking her. "It doesn't matter how it looks. It tastes the same," I whined. I wanted that cake in my belly, bad.
I can still hear her soft laugh and feel her fingertips raking through my hair. "Mio," she said, in her softest voice. "I'm making it with love. That's the only way to do it. It doesn't matter if there are only crumbs left at the end. I know I made something wonderful for all the important people in my life." She put time and effort into all of us, and in the end, I was the one that destroyed it.
"You guys haven't done this before, huh?" Cara asks quietly.
Declan answers her while I drift in the painful memories. Bree's voice shakes me out of my daze.
"What about you Nick? Did you ever go to the beach?"
"My Abuelita didn't swim. She was afraid of the water."
"Your Abuelita?" Bree asks, her voice delicate, careful, the question unspoken, but obvious.
"Yeah. She died when I was seven."
Bree's face fills with sympathy and echoes of shared pain. She's lost people too, but not in the same way. Her parent's death wasn't her fault.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
I can't look at her, so I give her a mockery of a smile, and stand, brushing the sand off my hands. "If castles are temporary, then I think I'm ready to pack it in. Anyone want to swim?"
I hope the answer is no. I need to chase away these thoughts. I need to be alone. I don't wait for an answer, heading straight into the water.
I feel Declan pull up next to me a few steps in. I don't say anything, and neither does he. With a familiarity built over two decades, we dive into the cool of the deeper water. One of the best ways to chase away all the things I don't want to feel is physical exertion. After a while, the thoughts and the guilt stop swirling, and all I can focus on is the burn in my arms and the sting in my eyes from the saltwater.
Finally, heart pounding, I come to a stop, treading water about fifty feet from shore. Declan rolls over and attempts to float, but the man can't keep that rock solid ass of his from sinking.
"You're too heavy to float, man. It's no use."
"Fuck off. Everyone can float. You just need the right—“
His words cut off as he sinks again. He comes up spluttering and slaps the water in frustration. "Why can't I do it?"
"You're about forty pounds of muscle heavier than you were last time we went swimming."
"Oh. Right. I forgot."
"You forgot you're a ripped son of a bitch?"
His lips quirk as he stares at the beach, or more specifically, Cara. His eyes get a glazed look in them. "Bet Cara would float."
"Bet you're right." Cara's spectacular chest would guarantee it. Bree would be a top-notch floater too.
