by Adi Alsaid
They kept getting stuck behind RVs going thirty-five miles an hour, cars slowing down to pull into scenic overlooks to snap pictures. They weren’t making great time, but if they subsisted off the junk food in the car and didn’t stop for a meal or too many bathroom breaks, they’d even arrive in time for the opening act. Of course, they did stop and take a few pictures on some of the more beautiful curves, because what life-changing trip was complete without photographic evidence to rub in people’s faces?
They drove past the Bixby Canyon Bridge and Monterey, the sun starting to dip lower toward the ocean. The haze by the horizon weakened its rays, and it turned into a perfect orange sphere, like some strange cookie being dunked in slow motion. In Half Moon Bay they stopped to watch it set all the way, Dave reasoning that the rest of the drive was less curvy and would go by quicker. Since the landscape got significantly less impressive in the dark, they could speed and still make it to San Francisco in time.
Dave parked at a roadside convenience store and they walked down to the seaside, taking a seat at a bench that was remarkably like Dave’s bench at Morro Bay.
“Can we play the Before Midnight game?” Julia asked.
“Wow, usually you don’t ask, you just tell me we’re doing it.”
Julia sighed. “See? Letting you drive was a mistake. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“Still there.” Dave held his hand out in front of him, his fingers parallel to the horizon, a trick they’d learned to know when the sun would be setting. Each finger equaled about fifteen minutes.
The sun was the color of a perfect orange, and the ocean below it had turned to something resembling steel, shimmering a line to where they were sitting, a yellow brick road cutting straight across the water.
“Still there,” Julia said after a moment. The game was a little silly and completely unoriginal, but it never failed to make Julia feel somewhat cathartic, regardless of whether or not she’d had anything resembling a catharsis. “Are we gonna make it there on time?”
“We should be fine. I’ll take the 101 and it’ll be a bit faster.” The sky around the sun was hazy and soaking up the color, so that it looked like someone had poked a hole in the sun and it was slowly bleeding out. “Still there.”
A thin cloud turned bright red and both of them oohed at it at the same time. “Definitely still there.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dave look away from the sun, swiveling his head to take in the whole scene. He was the only person she knew who actively reminded himself to look around, to enjoy everything about a given moment. They’d never actually spoken about it, but she’d been watching it happen for years. “This is pretty great,” Dave said. “On a school night. Two hundred miles from home. Going to see Neko in San Francisco.”
Julia turned to look at him. The sun was golden on his skin, a bead of sweat was hiding at the very edge of his hairline. “Still there.” She smiled.
“Still there,” Dave repeated.
When the last orange-red sliver of the sun completely dipped beneath the ocean, they both said, “Gone.”
This time, Julia could feel a very specific epiphany, bittersweet though it may have been: She and Dave could still be friends. Nothing had changed.
THAT TEENAGE FEELING
FROM THE FIRST note Neko Case sang, chills ran down Julia’s arms. It was a tiny venue, with a bar in the back that never fully quieted down, even during the quiet songs. It was hot, too, Julia’s shirt sticking to her back almost from the start. The crowd was sparse enough that Julia wasn’t pressed up against a bunch of sweaty strangers, but she and Dave were up near the stage, where people kept jockeying for position, and every now and then the crowd would move in waves and Dave would put a hand on her shoulders to steady her. As much as she loved Neko’s lyrics, Julia’s mind wandered during the concert, especially when Dave’s arm brushed against hers, when he leaned into her ear to comment about how her voice sounded even bigger live.
When she recognized the opening of “That Teenage Feeling,” Julia felt everything but her, Neko, and Dave melt away. She’d looked up the lyrics before and thought them somewhat twee, but what a colossal difference there was between a line on paper and a line sung with the entirety of someone’s heart to a rapt audience. What a strange, wonderful feeling it was to know that Julia was right in the midst of what Neko Case was singing about. She cast a glance at Dave, who was smiling slightly, trying to sing along to lyrics he clearly didn’t know.
The concert was over at nearly midnight, and though they’d assumed there’d be tons of Thai places open late at night, it turned out that San Francisco was not New York and very much enjoyed its sleep. Julia searched for nearby restaurants on her phone as Dave called Gretchen to say good night and that he would see her at school in the morning. She heard the sweet tone in his voice, and she decided that she was thrilled by it. Her best friend was an overwhelmingly good person, and if she wasn’t receiving his romantic affection, at least someone was.
When he hung up, they started walking back toward where they’d parked the car. “No luck on Thai food,” she said. “How’s Gretchen?”
“Half-asleep. She says hi.” Dave twirled the car keys around his finger. They passed by a group of teens in ragged clothing hanging out in front of a coffee shop. One of them had faded green hair poking out from beneath his beanie, a metal chain swinging from his belt loop to his back pocket. He was holding a cardboard sign that read, WHY LIE, I NEED BEER? The smell of weed and body odor lingered around them. “So, more junk food for the drive back?”
“I’ve got another idea,” Julia said.
o o o
They finally found a suitable spot a bit south of Carmel. It was a perfect isolated stretch of sandy beach hidden from the road by a little hill. Passing cops wouldn’t be able to see the illegal fire they were going to build. They’d bought a Quick Start chemically coated log, a bundle of firewood, skewers, a package of gourmet sausages stuffed with mozzarella and sundried tomatoes, a can of pineapple, ingredients for s’mores, and a flimsy beach towel. Julia wished they had a bottle of wine to share, but since neither of them had a fake ID, a jug of their favorite iced tea would do.
Julia, the much more seasoned camper between the two of them, dug a little hole and assembled the logs into a tepee, running back to the car for some paper to help the starter log catch fire quickly. Dave set their purchases around the towel to keep it from flapping around and collecting sand in the breeze.
Within a few minutes Julia had the fire going and they’d impaled sausages and pineapple squares on the skewers, digging them into the sand around the fire so that they would roast hands-free. They sat with their legs crossed, the ocean’s constant roar like a song of approval, their faces lit up in tiny orange flickers of flames reflecting in their eyes.
“Well, this was a fantastic idea,” Dave said, twisting the cap off the jug of iced tea and raising it to his lips.
“Wait!” Julia lowered the bottle before he could take a drink. “We need a toast first.”
Dave gestured out to the scene in front of them. “This on a Tuesday night? Do we really need a toast?”
Julia grabbed the jug out of his hands. “That’s too long. Toasts have to be short and wise. Like Hemingway.” She thought for a second, then raised it up. “To the fire in our hearts,” she said, a line she remembered from one of her mom’s postcards. Then she took a long pull, wincing as if it were whiskey. She handed Dave the bottle, conscious of how their fingers brushed against each other. Her ears were ringing from the concert, and the slight chill in the air was completely canceled out by the warmth of the blaze. Dave set the bottle in the sand in front of them, smacking his lips from the sweetness. A car drove past them on the highway behind, just a whirr of tires on pavement. Not even the headlights reached them. They let the sound of the ocean rule for a while, a
nd exchanged swigs from the bottle while giving the skewered sausages quarter turns so that they’d cook the whole way through. Every time one of them raised the bottle, the other would come up with a new toast that would fit Julia’s criteria of being Hemingway-esque.
Dave: “To another numbered night.”
Julia: “To small differences.”
Dave: “To being really thankful this isn’t alcohol because I’d be plastered by now.”
Julia: “To my friend’s low alcohol tolerance. May his life be blessed with cheap bar tabs and designated drivers.”
Within the hour, they were giggly from the sugar high. Skewers lay strewn about the beach, sand sticking to the pineapple juice that had run down their sides, little bits of sausage indistinguishable from the shadows cast by the fire. They were recovering from a laughing bout, though she couldn’t quite recall what had set it off. She reached for another log from their dwindling stack and placed it diagonally into the fire. Julia leaned back, feeling herself start to sweat.
“I think this is officially a night of good ideas,” Dave said, suddenly standing up. He was taking his shoes off, holding his arms out for balance. “We’re already crossing off one Never tonight, right? Why not take it further?” He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and pulled it swiftly over his head.
“What are you doing?”
“Number six: Never go skinny-dipping.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “No one can see us. No chance of it going viral, unless one of us is the culprit.” He looked over at the ocean and unbuttoned his jeans. “I don’t know about you, but nothing sounds better to me right now than getting in that ocean.” A big grin spread across his face and he turned away from Julia, stepping out of his jeans and boxers as he ran out into the incoming tide, his ass pale, sticking out in the night.
Julia could barely breathe from the laughter, and with very little hesitation she slipped out of her shorts, leaving a trail of T-shirt, bra, and panties as she joined Dave in the Pacific. “This is so fucking cold!”
“The fire in our hearts will keep us warm,” Dave said, though his teeth were already chattering.
“The shivering brought on by hypothermia might do a better job.” They kept close to the shore, crouching on their knees so that the water would wash over them completely. Julia dunked her head under the water, feeling her lungs shout for air and warmth.
“Julia! Look.”
She wiped the salt water from her eyes and oriented herself until she spotted Dave pointing out toward the horizon. She followed his gaze and saw the moon, a duller replica of the orange ball the sun had been when it dipped below the surface a few hours ago. It wasn’t completely full, but it was bigger than she’d ever seen it, and, like the sun they’d watched just a few hours earlier, the moon was the exact shade of the oranges people sold on the side of the road. “Wow,” was all she could manage.
They floated side by side for a while, watching the spectacle before them, the sound of their chattering teeth and the waves crashing behind them filling Julia simultaneously with adrenaline and a sense of peace.
A few seconds later, overtaken by the cold, they ran back to shore, headed straight for the fire. Julia covered herself up more for the warmth of her arms than propriety. She sat on the towel, leaning in close to the fire, though now that she was next to it, it didn’t seem all that necessary; adrenaline was doing plenty. She left a space for Dave, but he grabbed what remained of the towel and draped it over her. He sat right next to her, their sides touching, his jeans on and soaking up the Pacific off his legs. They breathed heavily, staring at the fire instead of the moon rising, which was getting more ordinary as it climbed up the night sky, their smiles refusing to die down. Julia knew that there were moments in your life that meant something but passed by unnoticed, and she knew that this was not one of them.
Another car passed by behind them, this one heading north. Julia could barely hear it over the sound of the ocean and the crackle of the fire, not to mention her fluttering chest. Dave held her gaze, and Julia felt everything that she’d pushed down on the drive start to bubble back up. She thought about doing it again, about swallowing the love and hanging on to just this. Loving him just like this, or from farther away.
Then Dave, head still cocked to the side like a confused puppy, reached over and brushed a wet strand of hair away from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear and giving her a smile. Without meaning to, Julia grabbed his hand before he pulled it away, interlacing her fingers with his. Warmed by the fire and the towel, Julia no longer felt cold. But a shiver ran through her when she understood that she would not be able to keep the words inside her anymore.
“Dave,” she said, feeling a sort of release in knowing that it was coming and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He looked down at their hands together but didn’t make a move to let go. She waited until those kind eyes of his met hers, and then as if it was the easiest thing in the world, she told him she loved him.
PART 3
DAVE & JULIA
BECAUSE I’M DUMB
LIKE SO MANY times before, Dave knew what Julia was about to say before she said it. He could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, eyes he’d dreamed about for the past five years, even when awake. He’d imagined that look in them enough times to recognize it exactly for what it was before Julia confirmed it with her words.
His heart was already pounding from the swim in the ocean, the ridiculous and beautiful timing of the moon rising as they bathed in the frigid waters. He’d tried not to stare, but the sight of her running back to the shore had been funny and yet also a dream come true, the way she looked in the darkness, pale and shapely, the curves and folds of her flesh reflecting moonlight.
Now she was loosely draped in the towel they’d bought at the grocery store in Carmel. Water dripped down her face, down her collarbone, which disappeared into the darkness beneath the towel. The fire brought out her eyes, the tint in her lips, her cheeks flushed from the cold. He could think of nothing else but how beautiful she looked just then, how long he’d been dreaming of exactly this moment. Although this was better than dreaming. Then her words were out. “I love you,” she said, the way he’d been keeping himself from saying. Dave immediately leaned into Julia, getting closer to the person he’d always been closest to.
It felt so right to kiss her.
After so long of dreaming about it, it should have been a disappointment. His expectations, never reined in, had climbed so high that reality should not have been able to live up to the moment. The mind got carried away and life’s job was to show it how things really were. Dave knew that’s how these things often went for romantics. People longed for something for years, and when they got it, they couldn’t help but feel cheated.
This wasn’t like that at all. Kissing Julia was exactly as great as kissing Julia should have been. Their mouths fit each other. He couldn’t think of it any other way. It wasn’t all that long of a kiss, and the world didn’t go into slow motion or anything like that. He felt her lips, the sweet tea on her breath, a quick flick of their tongues meeting. They pulled away rather quickly, though their hands remained on each other, their sides pressed together, the cheap towel slipping down from around Julia’s shoulder just an inch.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Dave said, unable to keep himself from whispering.
“Really?”
“Years,” Dave said, nodding, leaning in for a repeat.
The second kiss was longer, hungrier. Julia turned herself over and sat on his lap, wrapping them both up inside the towel. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I’m dumb.” He kissed her again, one hand on the side of her face, the other holding the towel up around them. The fire had dwindled down, and he grabbed one of the last remaining logs and tossed it at J
ulia’s impromptu pit, not wanting the whole thing to turn to ash. It had already been one of those nights that felt significant even before the kissing—the drive, the concert, this perfectly isolated beach—and he didn’t want it to end. He wished they’d bought more firewood. “I can’t believe we could have been doing this the whole time.”
Julia laughed through her kisses, as if she didn’t want to pull away from his lips for even a second. “I guess we have to make up for lost time.”
She laid herself heavy against him until he was lying down on the sand, the weight of her a wonder. It was strange that of all the things he could be marveling at, Julia’s hair falling across his face, her lips on his, the sheer nakedness of her as the towel slipped away, it was weight that he was focusing on. She raised herself slightly to kiss his neck and he instantly pulled her closer, wanting the weight of her to remain.
“Easy, Dave. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know,” he said. “You just feel great.”
“I hate to be crass, but I bet I can make you feel better.”
“You do not hate to be crass,” Dave said, laughing a little and brushing the hair away from her face—uselessly, since it only fell back down.
“True. I’d much rather be crass than touchy about this.”
“About what?”
“Boning my best friend on a beach,” she said, grabbing his hands and holding them down, smirking even as she moved to kiss him again, to more than kiss him.
When the moon had turned into something a little less spectacular, a little more itself, Julia and Dave were lying together on the towel, the last of the logs dropped into the fire along with the skewers, the charred remains of marshmallows that hadn’t made it into s’mores. Sand was absolutely everywhere.
