by Bryan Bliss
“Only for the mortals, Abs,” she says, climbing up and over the fence in only a few movements. The others follow until it’s only me and Aaron standing there.
“Can you get over it?” he asks.
“Of course I can get over it,” I say. “What kind of question is that?”
But I don’t hop the fence with the rest of them because that’s not what’s bothering me. “She called me Abs.”
He shrugs. “Is that a bad thing?”
It’s familiarity. Only Aaron has ever called me it—because when we were little, he stuttered and couldn’t get Abigail to come off his tongue. Right or wrong, it was always ours—mine. And hearing Jess say it bothers me, even if I can’t fully say why.
Jess rattles the fence and says, “You guys coming?”
Aaron looks at me before putting his foot into the fence. I don’t have much of a choice but to follow him, and when my feet are on the sandy pavement on the other side, he smiles and points to a dark wooden staircase. The others, except for Jess, have already started down.
“Be careful. It’s super dark,” Jess says.
As we take the steps down toward the beach, the fog thickens and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks comes again from the darkness. Below us, on the beach, the others are running and yelling, shapeless shadows that disappear into the darkness like tiny ghosts.
I turn in their direction, and Jess stops me. “We’ll go down there in a minute. I want you to see something first.”
She goes the opposite way, leading us to a second staircase, which ends in front of a huge boulder. In the darkness, my feet find grooves cut into the rock by the wind and the sand, perfect steps. As I put my foot in the first one, Jess’s hand appears above me. She pulls me to the top of the boulder, where the entire bay spreads out beneath us. In the distance, the fuzzy lights of the Golden Gate Bridge fight to break through the thick air.
We stand there, staring at the bridge and the fog, as Aaron climbs up and stands between us.
“I love this,” he says.
Even through the fog, the bridge seems alive, bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. Lights from distant cars skip across it before disappearing into the darkness on the other side. I want to know what’s out there, where it takes people. But I don’t ask, only watch. I could sit here all night.
“This is one of the first places I found when I came to the city,” Jess says. “I thought it was my own little secret. Like nobody ever noticed this perfect beach. Or the staircase, for that matter.”
She laughs.
“I was stupid. About a lot of things.”
Aaron puts his arm around her and she leans her head onto his shoulder, still talking.
“For a long time, this was the only place I felt safe. I’d sleep down on the beach, next to another boulder. Even now, if things get too crazy, I come down here.”
Jess smiles but it reminds me of Mom—a flare that burns bright, only to go out just as quickly. In front of us, the bridge sits in its hazy glory, oblivious to anything other than itself.
“Do you still sleep here?” I ask, wondering if Aaron walks her all the way out here every night. Would he do that for her? It seems like him.
“No. It’s . . . well, it’s just not as hidden as it used to be, I guess.”
I look around. Up on this boulder, you wouldn’t be able to see us from the parking lot above. It does feel safe. A place to get lost.
Down on the beach, the others are yelling for us to come down—“Get off that damn rock and play with us,” a guy—maybe E—shouts. Jess and Aaron share a look and a smile before Aaron says, “You’re going to love this.”
The beach is dark and magical, the bridge hanging over us like something from a dream. A group of shadows—the others—collect near the water’s edge. As we get closer, the shadows resolve into more familiar outlines. Dreadlocked E, the girl with the ski pants, Kissing Boy. Jordy the Activist. They all stand a few feet away from the water, hanging on one another’s shoulders and laughing. When a wave comes rushing back into the beach, they run toward us, laughing even louder.
“It’s kind of a game,” Jess says. She seems embarrassed by it, as if Aaron and I are sitting in the van playing video games and watching movies. Kissing Boy runs up to us, grabbing Jess by the arm and pulling her down toward the water. As they disappear into the dark, he says, “The only rule is: Don’t get wet!”
“Or hypothermia!” somebody else yells.
“It’s weird,” Aaron says. “But fun.”
They yell for Aaron and then—I don’t know why I’m surprised—me.
“You can wait up here if you want,” he says. But I don’t answer him. I go running into the dark, toward the voices calling my name, smiling even though none of them can see me. I don’t see the water and almost go headfirst into a wave. E catches me and says, “Whoa. I know you’re excited, but slow down there, Captain. We don’t want you falling in yet.”
The rules are simple, they explain. When the tide retreats, everyone has to run around a large rock that gets swallowed up as soon as the water comes surging back toward us. If you get wet—“And wet is a relative idea,” E says. “Because, really, everybody gets wet.”—you are out.
“It gets harder because, you know, the tide isn’t going to stop coming in,” Kissing Boy says. “And it’s crazy dark.”
I take off my shoes, trying not to hear Mom’s voice in my head—worried about riptides and sharks. I try to be carefree, like them, and not worry about what could happen. So when the water pulls back from the shore, I run as fast as I can—the sand cold on my feet—and make it back around the rock before any of them. I’m breathing hard from the cold, the rush of it all.
“Holy shit, did you see that?” E, who slipped and fell just as the tide was coming back, is soaked but wide-eyed with surprise. “Are you kidding me?”
“I’m surprised she didn’t ask us to put money on it,” Kissing Boy says, equally wet and amazed. When E fell down, he grabbed the other boy’s leg. “And I’d also like to file a formal complaint against this asshole.”
“The only rule is: Don’t get wet,” Jess says. “You’re usually pretty adamant about that, Silas.”
Silas and E stand aside as we line up and wait for the next waves to pass. It’s Aaron, me, Jess, and the girl in the ski pants, whose name is Laina, I learn. Just as the water crashes into the rock, I go—maybe a bit too early but by the time I’m on the ocean side of the rock, the water is already a foot down the beach. I make it back before both Jess and Aaron. When I see Jess, she’s drenched and pushing Aaron—bone-dry—who’s laughing. Laina never left the starting spot. She’s sitting with E, Jordy, and Silas saying, “I’ve got to sleep outside tonight so this suddenly seems really stupid.”
When Aaron and Jess get back to us, Jess is trying to act mad. I know the feeling so well, it could be my own. Aaron, as always, plays the innocent. “What? I can’t help it you tripped.”
“Whatever. That’s some cheating mess,” Jess says. She looks at me and says, “Listen, kick your brother’s ass for me, okay?”
She lifts her fist for me to bump, nodding and smiling. I meet it weakly and try to smile, too. For some reason, when Aaron sees this, he cracks up.
“What?” Jess says.
Aaron shakes his head, still laughing. “Oh, nothing.”
But then he lifts up a hesitant fist for E to bump, both of them dying with laughter at the dainty exchange.
“Okay,” Jess says to me, “now I really want you to kick his ass.”
Aaron grabs Jess and tries to lift her off the ground. She screams, coming behind me for protection. Aaron’s eyes are so bright, enough that I could probably see them from a hundred feet away, as he chases her. When he’s finally got his arms around her, they both smile—lost for a second. Then Jess rushes away from him, laughing.
“That smooth shit isn’t going to work for you tonight,” she says. “It’s payback time.”
Aaron laughs.
“I’m going to let you guys in on a little secret: Abs here was born second. Like, literally. I’m older by two minutes, and she’s never beaten me at anything in her life.”
Again with the collective “Ohhh!”
Silas says, “You going to take that? Smoke his ass!”
Jess begins rubbing my shoulders like a boxing trainer and I’m watching the water, ignoring Aaron, who keeps reaching over to grab my arm. Trying to get whatever advantage he can. As soon as the water crests over the top of the rock, I’m going to run as fast as I can.
Just before it happens, Aaron leans next to me and says, “I told you this would be fun.”
TEN
E LETS ME WEAR HIS COAT—WHICH IS MASSIVE—AS WE WALK back to the park. Aaron swaggers triumphantly at the front of the group.
“I mean, she’s my sister,” he says. “But if you try to take a man’s crown, there are consequences.”
“Some man,” Jess says. “You totally pushed her—and me.”
Aaron looks offended. “Don’t be a sore loser. Abs, tell them I didn’t push you.”
I’m so cold I can barely talk without my teeth sounding like a machine. Jess stands right next to me, so close our arms brush every few steps. If she’s cold, I can’t tell. She walks tall, fast.
“Look at your poor sister. She’s going to freeze, and for what? So you can be a big man winning all the games?”
Jess is kidding, but the truth of the statement stops Aaron for a moment. Like, Oh yeah, we don’t have clothes or a way to dry them, anything. He could be Mom in the moment, the way anxiety crawls across his face. Before Jess or I can say anything, Silas says, “This boy’s trying to kill his sister and his girlfriend!”
Ohhh!
I don’t know who’s more embarrassed, me or Jess. Her face is red and she won’t look at me—anyone—as E and Silas push Aaron, who smiles and tells them to shut up. When I do make eye contact with Jess, all the confidence she’s built up is gone. All she says is, “Boys . . .”
There were always girls who were interested, but I think Aaron was too embarrassed to bring them to our house. Sometimes they’d come up to me, asking questions. Maybe they’d go to a movie, or one of the school dances. Whether it took days or weeks, the girls always faded away, and when I’d ask Aaron all he’d say is, “You know how it goes, Abs.”
But how does a girlfriend work out here? It’s not like they can go on dates or come over to the van to watch a movie.
Aaron doesn’t say much else as we walk. His smile is Christmas. It’s us getting up ridiculously early and running down the hall, yelling until Mom and Dad got out of bed. Silas tells us how—when he was in school back in Oregon—there was this one girl he liked.
“I asked her out twenty times and she never said yes,” he says. “I used to think it was funny, but now it’s kind of depressing.”
He turns to Laina, smiling. Before he can say anything she says, “No way. Look in a different direction.”
This lightens the mood, but soon Aaron and Jess are walking behind the rest of the group. I try not to eavesdrop and to listen to what Silas and E are saying—asking Jordy about a music store near the park that supposedly still pays money for used CDs. But when Jess laughs, I glance over my shoulder. She’s rolling her eyes and he’s grinning. They walk shoulder to shoulder, their bodies bumping every few steps. Aaron leans over and quickly tries to kiss Jess on the cheek, instead getting her on the nose. They both laugh. As far as they’re concerned, the rest of us don’t exist. They’re all alone in the world.
We enter the park in a place I’ve never seen. It’s darker here, and I have to pay attention to every step I take. We don’t follow the path, instead walking through the trees until we come out onto a long patch of grass. There are four or five other people already here, sitting against the same overstuffed backpacks everybody carries. Two scruffy dogs lay asleep next to a small tree.
“Will you look at this?” A voice stretches above the murmur. A tall, lanky guy, older than everyone else in the group by at least five years, slaps E on the shoulder and says, “That’s right, the prodigal son has returned.”
The guy gives me a once-over as he talks. Somebody calls him Skeetch, and he nods at them. But then it’s right back to me, my skin crawling every time his eyes pass up and down my body. He juts his chin in my direction and says, “Who’s the new one?”
E turns around. “Oh, that’s Aaron’s sister. They’re from North Carolina.”
“A southern girl?” Skeetch says. “I spent some time in Alabama back in the day.”
Silas deadpans, “More like did some time.”
Skeetch laughs, but it isn’t friendly. His eyes are cold razors that cut from one person to the next. When Aaron and Jess appear from the trees he smiles, and it’s as harsh as the bay wind.
“Well, well, well. Look at you,” he says to Jess. “So, are you going to introduce me to your new friend?”
He reaches out to touch her arm, and she jumps back. “Don’t touch me.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, raising his palms up. “Just saying hello. And it’s not like I haven’t before.”
Aaron’s face has transformed, gone from soft to hard as he eyes Skeetch, keeping Jess close to him.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to say hello,” Aaron says.
Skeetch laughs and says, “Maybe she doesn’t want to say hello. Okay, tough guy. You keep telling yourself that.”
E steps up to them and says to Skeetch, “Why don’t we fire one up. Help everybody chill out. I know you’re holding, man.”
Skeetch doesn’t say anything for a long minute, only stares at Aaron and Jess. His face is angular and hard, and even when he smiles there’s a severity that doesn’t go away. Nobody moves until he reaches into his coat and pulls out a small baggie, handing it to E.
“Whatever. Been there, done that, you know? Besides, I’m always open for new opportunities.”
Skeetch sidles up next to me and Aaron steps between us, putting one hand against his chest and saying, “Back off. Seriously.”
E lifts up the bag for us to see and says, “Okay, now. Let’s not ruin a good night trying to figure out which one of you is the bigger asshole.”
Jordy is the only one who laughs.
“Too late for that,” Jess says, trying to pull Aaron away. He won’t move. Aaron and Skeetch stand a foot away from each other, eyes locked. Jess curses under her breath and leans close, saying something in his ear. When he finally moves, Skeetch laughs. “Well, I’d rather be the bigger asshole than the bigger bitch.”
I can’t tell who’s laughing and who’s not.
Jess doesn’t stop moving until we’re at the entrance of the park. Then she turns around and pushes Aaron.
“What the hell?”
“What am I supposed to do? Let him talk that way about you? About Abs? Hell no.”
Jess shakes her head, but she doesn’t disagree with him. “You walk away. No matter what happens, you swallow that macho bullshit and walk away.”
“Are you serious?” Aaron asks.
Jess turns to me. All the playfulness from before is gone when she says, “If he’s not going to listen to me, then you need to. That asshole? He’s nothing but a black hole. And if you’re smart, you and your brother will stay away from him.”
When she turns to go back to the park, Aaron steps in front of her and puts his hands on her shoulders and says, “Hey, hey—I’m sorry.
“Whatever. I need to get my stuff.”
“Leave it. I’m sure E will take care of it.”
“Oh, so you’re the experienced street kid now? My stuff will be gone in a matter of minutes if I don’t get it. And unlike you, I don’t have a van and parents to escape to whenever I want.”
Aaron flinches and Jess steps around him, getting about ten feet before he stops her again. From the road, I catch only small parts of their conversation, words like Please and I can’t that lift above the noises of the city. Ev
entually Jess shakes her head and pushes Aaron away one last time before walking back into the darkness of the park.
When he sees me, Aaron doesn’t say anything except, “Let’s go.”
I know he’s going back out. That’s why we’re walking so fast, why he won’t look at me. A month ago, I would’ve made deals with God to keep him in the van—offering promise after promise. But when we get to a familiar stoplight and I can see the van poking out of the haze just a few blocks ahead, I’m too tired to keep asking for help that never comes.
I can see Dad still slumped against the driver’s side window. Mom’s head is buried in a hat and covered by a quilt. We walk silently toward them, each step raising a conflict deep inside me. I don’t want him to leave, but the thought of Jess being alone in the park with that guy gnaws at any selfishness I’m trying to hold on to.
As Aaron begins to undo the bungee cord, I stop his hand.
“Bring Jess back to the van.”
Aaron turns around, the bungee cord still in his hand. For the first time in weeks, he looks surprised. “Yeah, right.”
He tries to open the door to the van, but I block him. “Seriously. You’re obviously worried about her. So why not?”
“If you have to ask that question, then you haven’t been paying attention for, like, ever.”
He tries to move me out of the way, but I’m not getting in the van until he answers me. I have no idea what Mom and Dad would say if Aaron showed up with some homeless girl. But they’d have to say something. They’d have to do something.
“What are they going to say?”
“Oh, let’s see. Dad will tell me Jess isn’t part of God’s plan. Because who needs a girlfriend when Jesus is coming back? You know.”
He closes his eyes and drops his head. The silence is almost complete, except for a car alarm going off somewhere deeper in the city.
“So, she’s your girlfriend.”
He sighs, looking at the bungee cord in his hand. Then it’s as if everything he’s been holding back comes rushing out of his mouth.
“I have no idea if she’s my girlfriend. It’s not like we’re going out on dates or sneaking off to make out in the bathroom during lunch.”
