Page 116 of Error Handling
“I missed you,” Sarah says.
“I missed you too,” I say without hesitation.
“I thought I might never see you or hear from you again.”
I consider her comment for a moment. I know I’ve given her mixed signals, but apparently even more than I realized. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
“Chris, I—” Sarah’s brow furrows, and she wrings her hands. “I need to tell you something.”
“Wait.” I rest my index finger on her lips. “Let’s go down to the beach, and then we can talk. I need to tell you a few things too.”
Sarah shrugs and then agrees. “Okay. Let me get my towel. Do you need one?”
I jab my thumb toward my truck. “I brought one.”
While she’s inside gathering her beach necessities, I grab my rolled-up towel and a baseball cap from the truck. I’m already wearing my swim trunks, doubling them as shorts.
Sarah returns with a very large canvas tote on her shoulder, and a beach umbrella under her other arm. She joins me, and we head toward the boardwalk.
I can’t let Sarah carry everything while I have nothing but a towel, so I pull the beach umbrella from beneath her arm and carry it for her.
“What’s in that thing?”
“A couple towels, a beach blanket, two bottles of sunscreen—mineral sunscreen for my face and spray-on sunscreen for my body, sunglasses, a floppy hat, my Kindle, my cellphone.” She pooches her lips while she thinks. “I guess that’s about it.”
“You’re prepared.”
“Boy Scout’s motto.”
Since it’s not the island’s peak season, the beach is sparsely populated. Although the temperature is in the eighties today, it will take a couple of months for the water temperature to rise enough to encourage swimming. Even so, a couple of young boys along the waterline run in and out of the waves.
I let Sarah choose our spot, and then I anchor the umbrella while she spreads the blanket and arranges our towels. With the afternoon sun heading westward, the umbrella provides ample shade.
Sarah sits on the blanket with her legs bent in front of her and her arms resting on her shins. She looks uncertain. “Um. I guess...” She crosses her arms in front, grabs the bottom of hercrop top, and pulls it over her head, revealing a string bikini top that hugs her curves.
My mouth goes dry. I try to swallow, but I can’t. For a moment I think I may have to call this day off. I’m not sure I can form words when she looks like that.
Be cool. Calm down.
She stands and slides her shorts down to her ankles, revealing equally skimpy bottoms.
“Are there...restrooms here?” I managed to squeak out.
“Back at the house.”
“Your dad might not appreciate a stranger using his bathroom.”
“He and Mary are shopping. The door is unlocked. No worries.”
“Okay.”
I stand and head back to the boardwalk. I just need to walk, clear my head, throw some cold water on my face. Allison never looked likethatin a bikini.
At the house, I try the first-floor door, but it’s locked, so I head up the stairs to the second-floor porch. I enter through the unlocked door and wander the house looking for a bathroom. I don’t need to go. I just needed the distraction.
The bathroom faucet is vintage with the cold knob on the left and the hot on the right. I crank the cold water and splash my face a few times. Sarah makes me feel like a teenager again. Half of me enjoys it. The other half is mortified.
Yep. Exactly like my teenage years.