Girl Out of Water(21)

I answer and am greeted with a sun-glared smile.

“Hey, stranger!” she says. She must be lying on her stomach, because behind her tanned face I can just make out the edge of the beach and the lapping water. I turn the volume all the way up to catch the sounds of the crashing waves and seagulls. The sight of her face and the sounds of the ocean make the wooden chair I’m sitting on suddenly very uncomfortable. I should be pressed against the warm sand or floating in the cool water. I should be with my friends. I can’t believe how many days have passed since my feet have been firmly planted on a surfboard, since I’ve spent hours unwinding next to Tess, sharing headphones as she sketches seagulls and swells.

“Hey, stranger,” I say back. “How are you?”

“Good!” she says. “Parents let me off work early yesterday, and we set off some fireworks that Spinner not-so-legally acquired. We missed you.”

Back home, I never would’ve missed out on a night like that. I have flashes of memories I don’t possess—fireworks lighting up the sky over the dunes, smoke ghosting over the water, shadows flickering over my friends’ laughing faces.

“How goes life in Nebraska?” Tess asks. “How’s your aunt?”

“Okay…” I say. “Everything is okay…”

I’m trying to think of something interesting to tell her, something she can share with the rest of our friends, make sure they’re all still thinking of me, like the boys singing Survivor at the hospital or—Tess cuts off my train of thought. “Oh, I have some very exciting news!”

“What?” I ask.

“Okay, so you know how they never finalize the band lineup for Surf Break until last minute?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, guess who they just added?” Tess doesn’t give me a chance to guess. “Fucking Motel/Hotel! Can you believe it? Right here in Santa Cruz!”

My stomach drops. I can’t believe it. Motel/Hotel. Our favorite electronica band. Possibly our favorite band flat-out. They’re really small and almost never tour too far from their hometown of Athens, Georgia. This will definitely be their first time in Santa Cruz. And I’m going to miss it. One more thing my friends will experience without me. One more thing that separates their lives from mine.

So instead of smiling, instead of squealing and cheering and flipping the fuck out, all I can do is gnaw on a hangnail that’s been bugging me for the past few days. Because I won’t get to see Motel/Hotel. Because my friends will talk about the show for months to come, and every time they do, what has always been an us thing will suddenly be a them thing.

Tess, either sensing my lack of excitement or a bad connection, leans closer to the screen. “Earth to Anise Sawyer! You there? Did you hear me?”

“Yep,” I say. “And maybe you can figure out why I’m not excited.” I don’t mean to snark at her. Tess is my best friend. We don’t snark at each other. We snark at other people together. But I can’t help it. This is one more nail in the coffin of my shit summer. More proof of what I always knew because of my mom but never experienced personally: when you lose a place you lose its people too.

“Dude, but wait. If you tell your dad what a big deal it is, he’ll probably let you come home early. I mean seriously, your flight is, like, a week later, right? Would he really mind?”

“Tess, I told you this before. He’s planned everything out. We’re flying home the day after Aunt Jackie is supposed to be out of her wheelchair. Trust me. He knows how much I love Surf Break. If he could have booked us earlier, he would have.”

“I know, but what if you—”

“Look, can we talk about something else? I love you, and when I see your face I want to be in a happy mood, not in a life-is-the-worst mood. So let’s change the subject, okay?”

Tess looks like she’s going to protest, but then she nods. “Okay. Right, you’re right. Sorry, Anise. Oh, Eric says hi by the way! He’s out in the water, but I’m sure he’d looovve to talk to you.”

Eric. We’ve barely communicated since I got here. We were texting while watching the same YouTube surfing tutorial yesterday, but then Nash decided to see what happens if you put bubble bath in the washing machine, and I completely forgot to message him back. And even that conversation was stilted. Our relationship has always been immediate, tangible. This distance has made everything difficult; plus, we haven’t brought up the kiss again. I want to want him, but I can’t wrap my mind around wanting someone who isn’t here, and he probably feels the same way about me. Maybe that first kiss would have led to many more. But now I’m gone all summer, so maybe that first kiss was our last.

“He hasn’t hooked up with anyone else yet, by the way,” Tess continues. Relief comes, but only a little. The word yet lingers in my ears. “I think he’s hung up on you. God knows why. I mean you have absolutely zero attractive qualities.”

“Thanks, jerk,” I say. “Love you too.”

I think of Eric—his blond curls, blue eyes, sculpted shoulders—but the image that comes to mind is out of focus, like when you have a bad connection and a picture won’t load properly. I know I like him, like how he encourages my competitiveness instead of being turned off by it, like how without saying a word, he’s always there with extra support when my mom skips town. I know our kiss made my heart race and skin tingle. And yet, part of me wishes the kiss never happened. Because now when I think of us, I only see a giant question mark.