"I'm going to be in Room 405, and you guys are in Room 328, on the west side of the building, overlooking the ocean.” he told his kids. Shauna squealed with delight. An ocean view! She had never seen the ocean before, now from her window, she could look at it all weekend long.
Michael just looked at him blankly, and could care less. As long as there was a bed to sleep in, he was happy. He was counting the minutes before he could go home.
"Thank you, Daddy.” Shauna kissed her father on the cheek, and ran to the elevator. Michael looked at his father.
"I guess I'm going to get unpacked.” he said with a sigh, and started after his sister.
Stephen grabbed him by the arm. “Try to be nice. I haven't seen my brother in ten years, and this trip means a lot to me. Please be civil, okay?” Stephen asked him.
"Yeah, sure, Dad.” Michael just shrugged. He followed Shauna to the third floor. Civil to a bunch of rich bitches. Yeah, right!
The two of them stepped into the elevator together, and after the doors had closed, Michael stared at his sister. “So, it looks like we are sharing a room together. Dad can't afford three rooms. Dad can't afford this whole trip.” he grumbled.
"Oh, well.” Shauna glared at him, wondering what he was getting at.
"If we were Uncle John's kids we'd all have separate suites, I bet that's what little cousin Joe has.” he sneered.
She ignored him, determined not to let him spoil the mood. He kept pushing her buttons, something he was very good at. “Too bad I'm not Robert. I bet you'd rather be sharing a room in a fancy hotel on the ocean with him.” Michael jeered. She felt her throat tighten. Why the fuck did Michael have to mention that name?
The elevator arrived at the third floor, and the two stepped out, searching the long hall for Room 328. Shauna walked briskly ahead of her brother, who sauntered behind. She finally found their room, unlocked the door, and stepped in. Her jaw dropped. Her father wasn't kidding about the ocean view. The room also had a television, mini-bar, and beautiful balcony overlooking the golden beach. Even if it wasn't a suite, it was good enough for her.
She set her bag on one of the beds and ran to the balcony, where she pushed open the sliding glass door and stepped outside. She stood transfixed, staring at the white sand and the blue ocean, and decided it was the most fantastic sight she had ever laid eyes on. As much as she hated to admit it, her brother was right. She would much rather be here with Robert than Michael. This weekend, though, she was going to put Robert, school, and other worries out of her mind. This was her first vacation, and she was going to make it memorable.
She felt the cool ocean breeze flow through her long hair. She closed her eyes and just listened to the sound of the waves hitting the sand. She wished, like she had all her life, that she was rich, just like her cousin Joe she had heard so much about. Rich people could come to places like this all the time; they could even own places like this. It must be really nice.
She turned and ran back into the room, jerking open her tattered overnight bag, and pulling out her simple, one-piece swimsuit. She went into the bathroom to change.
Michael was sprawled on the bed, smoking a cigarette and flipping through the channels on the T.V. with the remote control. He scoffed at his silly sister, acting all impressed with these foolish people, this stupid hotel, and her ludicrous fantasies about getting out of Boonville and being “somebody". These people were nothing but fat, lazy assholes, and not one of them was going to give Shauna the time of day.
Shauna emerged from the bathroom, wearing her worn-looking swimsuit, and Michael started laughing at her. “What are you going to do when all your rich relatives are at the pool in their designer bathing suits and won't talk to you because you are wearing that piece of shit?” he scoffed. Michael got off on making her feel two-inches-tall—he always had. Shauna grabbed a towel and walked out the door. “Go to hell, Michael.” she called over her shoulder.
Michael just snickered and went back to the television. This whole weekend was going to be bullshit, and he wished he could stay in the room the whole time.
The first thing that struck Shauna when she stepped outside onto the beach was amazement. She could hardly breathe, and all she could do was run along the sand. She felt it between her toes for the first time. She ventured out towards the blue water and felt the waves crashing around her calves. She dove headfirst into the Pacific, got a mouthful of salt water, then ran along the wet sand. Her only company on the private beach was a flock of seagulls searching for their lunch. She felt alive, removed from reality, almost like living in a wonderful dream.
Finally, she collapsed on her towel and got lost in her happy thoughts. She though about her beautiful mother, Linda, who passed away mysteriously about a year ago. Her death devastated her and her father. The family was trying to cope with the loss and the grief. Her mother would have loved to be here and see her family. Her father was simply lost and hurting with out his wife.
Her mind drifted to Robert. Four months ago he was known as Mr. Kimberlin, her psychology instructor at H.G. Hill Junior College in Boonville. Robert was ten years her senior and married, but that didn't stop her from falling in love with him at first sight.
He was different from all the college boys that she had dated, who were all horny and confused. Robert was nice to her, nicer than any boy had ever been. She lost her virginity to him two short months ago. Since then, she fantasized that they would run away together, leaving his wife behind to spend his life with her.
He told her that he was in love with her too, but gave her strict instructions to keep their love affair a secret, until his divorce. She wished that she could share this moment with the love of her life, but she would just have to tell him about it. Only Michael knew of the affair, after seeing the two of them together in Robert's car. Michael knew who he was immediately. Boonville being a very small town, he told her that she was living in a dream world, that sleeping with a married man was a no-win situation and to snap back into reality.
Michael had an incredible way of ruining her joy. Perhaps he was jealous, for as far as she knew, Michael had never had a girlfriend, or even been in love. She stretched out and felt the delicious sunshine devour her, and told herself that there were going to be no worries this weekend-just relaxation, dreams, and fun. What else was there?
* * * *
Beverly Collins’ nickname was “Piglet” and she hated it, but the name stuck. The family had called her that for as long as she could remember, so there was nothing she could do. Besides, her mother, Allison Collins, liked calling her that. What Allison Collins wanted, she got, regardless of anyone else's feelings in the matter.
The Collins clan arrived at the Hotel Del Moor around one-thirty. The drive up from San Diego was not too horrible, considering they took two cars.
In the first car, Allison's Mercedes, were Patrick Collins, Beverly's dad, Paul Collins, her brother, and Allison herself who, of course, drove. Nobody but nobody touched Allison's Mercedes but her.
In the second car, a gold Mazda Miata that was a graduation gift from Patrick, were Beverly and Angela Carny, a very close friend of Beverly's. Paul and Beverly were pretty much looking forward to the weekend, and seeing their mother a nervous wreck was more than amusing.
Their mother was going to be seeing her two brothers for the first time in a long, long while-ten years or something like that. One brother, her Uncle John, was super rich and knew movie stars. The other brother, Uncle Stephen, was broke and a bum, or so her mother had told her. Uncle Stephen had two kids, so Beverly and Paul had two cousins, but they had not seen each other since she was twelve and Paul was ten. Beverly had somewhat kept in touch with her cousin Shauna, who seemed to be having a hard time since her Aunt Linda died.
She actually looked forward to seeing her. She had also seen pictures of their other cousin Joe. Everyone of her friends who saw them gushed about how gorgeous he was, how lucky she was to be spending the weekend with him, and too bad he was
her cousin. Actually, even if Joe wasn't her cousin, she still would not be attracted to him. She was deeply in love with somebody else, and that somebody was accompanying her on the trip.
Unbeknownst to her parents, she and Angela had been lovers for three years, and blissfully happy. Paul knew about the situation, but did not share the secret with the rest of the family, whose reaction would be a calamity. So, they kept their love affair between them, and maybe one day, when the time was right, she might break the news to her tyrant mother and henpecked father.
Right now, though, they were collapsed on the pink, plush couches of the Hotel Del Moor lobby, fanning themselves with newspaper's.
Paul observed the two, sitting across from them. Due to the heat, he had removed his shirt, and his genuine “jock” body was there for all to see. He was a senior at the U.C.S.D., a physical education major, and an outstanding baseball player. He had been recently scouted by the L.A. Dodgers, and looked forward to a professional career. He was also going to be finishing up his degree during the Spring quarter, which was going to start as soon as he got home, so he was going to enjoy the weekend. Beverly and Angela snuck a quick kiss and giggled.
"Better stop that!” Paul warned, eyeing his parents not ten feet away. Paul wanted very much for his beloved little sister to be happy, and if the lesbian lifestyle was to ensure that she was, more power to her.
Beverly met Angela at the U.C.S.D., where they both attended. For four years, they were roommates in Milford Hall, the dormitory where they were both assigned living quarters. They were strangers at first, having chosen not to live with anybody they knew, but to partake in “roommate lottery", to increase the chances of meeting new people. The attraction was instant, although neither knew at the time what the attraction was exactly. They just knew they liked each other.
Angela was from Greenwich, Connecticut, and her New England suavity fascinated the Southern California native, Beverly. They got really close almost immediately doing the typical college roommate things—crashing frat parties together, staying up late eating ice cream, late night trips to the library, and helping each other study. The main thing they had in common, however, was a lack of interest in the college boys, which Angela noticed first.
"I have better things to do.” Angela used to tell her, with a snide laugh.
Beverly, on the other hand, was dating lots of guys in high school. She lost her virginity shortly after her eighteenth birthday in her parents’ basement. Bruce Raggio was a jock buddy of her brothers. After months of telling her he was in love with her, he naturally never called her again once she gave in, leaving her devastated and confused.
"He told me he loved me.” she cried to Paul, “I don't understand why guys do that."
Paul, who by now was sixteen and an expert at that game himself, was sympathetic but unsurprised. His sister was heart broken, but guys will be guys. He didn't even offer to kick Bruce's ass, which still held resentment in Beverly's heart.
Beverly had other boyfriends since then, in a desperate attempt to find a kind, loving male, but her attempts were futile. None of them ever spoke to her again after getting what they wanted, leaving her feeling used, cheap, and worthless. One night, at around three in the morning and over tequila shots, Beverly shared this upsetting information with Angela. It was a three-day-weekend, Labor Day, and Milford Hall was quiet and empty.
"Why don't you become a lesbian? I know I would.” Angela told her.
"What?” Beverly asked her, stunned.
"Men can be bullshit. Trust me, I know.” Angela took a swig of the tequila.
"What, you don't like guys?” Beverly asked her, confused.
"I do and I don't.” Angela answered drunkenly.
"What do you mean?” Beverly cocked her head at her.
"I mean that sometimes women go lezbo out of necessity.” Angela said with a nod.
"I don't understand.” Beverly stated, confused. She took a sip of the tequila and stared at Angela.
"Women are naturally attracted to each other.” Angela explained.
"Yeah, I can see that.” Beverly agreed, feeling a little dizzy.
"I'm attracted to you.” Angela told her, swallowing the last of the liquor.
Beverly, thinking Angela was inebriated and joking, burst into a fit of giggles. Angela did not join her in the laughter and Beverly realized that her best friend was serious. She fell silent and looked deep into her eyes. Their gaze locked. Angela, feeling courage from the alcohol, figured that it was now or never. She gently took Beverly's chin in her hand, guided her lips to hers, and kissed her passionately like she had never kissed anybody before. Beverly was shocked, surprised, and much to her denial, aroused. The two just looked at each other, silent and motionless.
It was then Angela broke the silence and confessed that she had these feelings for her. Beverly was moved beyond words. What a man had never said to her, not sincerely that is, a woman had. Something she had wanted to hear all of her life—words of love. Beverly got up, and without saying a word, went to her side of the little dorm room, and got into bed. It was all too weird. Kissing a girl?
Her mother all her life had told her that was bad, but according to her mother, all sex was bad. Yes, she cared a great deal about Angela, but this was so strange. Could she really be a lesbian? At that moment she felt Angela crawl into her bed beside her. She put her arms around Beverly and started to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear.
"I want you to know what making love is like, Beverly.” Angela whispered. She began to pull up Beverly's nightgown, kissing her breasts, making her nipples erect. Beverly could not contain her arousal anymore, and began to moan.
"Yes, Angela.” Beverly gasped, and then she let herself go to the pure delight of it all. The next morning, they woke up in each other's arms, and knew they were in love. A man had never given her pleasure or warmth like she had experienced the night before, and for the next three years, the two were inseparable, a very loving couple.
Both had recently graduated from school—Beverly a psych major, Angela, pre-med. Angela had been accepted to the New York University School of Medicine, and was to attend in the fall. Both were twenty-two, beginning their “freshman year of life", and were deliriously happy.
At this moment, they sat holding hands, secretly of course, and staring out the window at the vast ocean, basking in its hypnotic effects.
All three could hear Allison from across the room with her piercing shriek about the lack of room due to over-booking. Patrick just stood there, looking sheepish, as if Allison was going to blame him for the lack of space. The three of them just looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Each was looking forward to hanging out with their young, hip cousins, and leaving the old fogies to their ranting and raving. Beverly put her head on Angela's shoulder and began to drift off. All three were tired and bored.
"Piglet! Oh Piggie!” Her mother's screech woke Beverly up with a jolt. They all looked up in time to see Allison trotting over to them holding a set of room keys in her hand. “There's been a tragedy, the hotel has over-booked the rooms, it's just terrible.” Allison had a tendency to be dramatic.
"It's ok, Mom.” Beverly looked at her mother blankly.
"No, it's not! The three of you are going to have to share, and it's just not right, little boys and little girls in the same room together. It's just not right.” Allison went on and on. Patrick just stood by and looked on.
"No, Mom. Really, it's fine.” Beverly stood up and reached for the room keys.
"No, it's even worse. All they had available for you guys was one of the honeymoon bungalows. That is the only room they had that could accommodate the three of you. Oh, I think it might be best if the two girls shared the bed, so there is no hanky panky between Angela and Paul.” Allison reported to them. Angela stifled a giggle as the woman said all this.
"Where will Paul sleep then?” Beverly asked.
"There is a couch, and the maids will bring over some bedding and extr
a pillows.” Patrick said softly, patting his daughter on the shoulder.
"Oh, this hotel is a disgrace. I will never stay here again as long as I live. Inefficiency! I just can't stand inefficiency!” Allison stormed off to an elevator, still muttering to herself.
"It's not so bad. The bungalow is big, and right on the sand. You can walk out the door and right into the water if you like.” Patrick smiled, handed them the keys to Bungalow Four along with a manila envelope.
"Thanks, Dad.” Beverly hugged her father, and took the items he handed to her.
"Well, I guess I'd better calm Madame Butterfly down. We are in Room 324. Call us if you need us.” Patrick looked at them for a second, and then turned to go and look for his hysterical wife.
The three turned, looked at each other for a minute, resisted the urge to chuckle, and finally ambled outside in search of Bungalow Four. The lovers walked hand-in-hand along the pathway, not caring who saw them. Paul, a few feet ahead and luggage-laden, was the first to spy the row of tiny villas adjacent to the water.
"Hey, over here.” he pointed to the cute, elegant bungalows. They both felt excitement starting to grow in them. It was so romantic, and maybe if Paul met a cute lady and spent one night in her room, they could have the little villa all to themselves. They could pretend they were on their honeymoon, and celebrate accordingly. They all raced to the bungalow. The first thing they noticed when they got to the door was the strong odor of pot coming from the next bungalow over.
"Somebody's having a good time.” Angela winked knowingly. They giggled. Paul wondered out loud if they had any more and were willing to share it with their neighbors. They were all smiles as Paul unlocked and opened the door.
Weekends Page 2
