Around

by Glenn Rolfe

  “You can talk to them about Iron Maiden and Led Zeppelin,” Rocky said.

  “Won’t be the same, man. It won’t be the same.”

  They watched the beach fill in. By the time the sun was directly overhead, the place was jam-packed with bodies of all shapes and sizes. Young and old, big and bold. Slick and ready to make two perverts such as them drool to dehydration.

  “Dude,” Axel said. “Why do the old Canadian men think that it’s cool to wear Speedos?”

  “Who cares? Their ladies are just as shameless. I’ll take that trade.”

  “Not me, man. It’s gross.” Axel stood. “I’m hungry, dude.”

  “I have another packet of M&Ms.”

  “No way,” Axel said. “Those are definitely melted.”

  Rocky picked them up and could feel that they were indeed ruined.

  “You’ve got to at least be thirsty,” Axel said. “We finished the last soda, like, an hour ago.”

  Rocky’s mouth felt like it was coated with flour. It’d been a while since they got forced from the arcade’s canvas cover. Now the white-hot sand was cooking them like two eggs. He thought of the anti-dope commercial, ‘This is your brain on drugs,’ and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Axle asked.

  “Nothing, man. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Crossing from the beach to the square, Rocky nearly tripped, and that’s when she came into view.

  “Oh my god,” he said.

  “What?”

  Rocky’s mind went blank. All his summer plans, his cousin leaving for England, his driver’s test, his back brace, all of it, gone. She had ice cream smeared across her upper lip and wiped it away with the back of her right hand. She was wearing one green high-top Chuck Taylor and one yellow. The guy working the Dairy Queen window was staring at her with his mouth open like a dumb kid trying to catch snowflakes from a winter sky. Two older men, older than his dad, were checking her out from the metal fence that separated the DQ from the train tracks. Rocky’s gaze moved from the multicoloured shoes to the ripped blue jeans, paused at the Twisted Sister logo and the two mounds beneath it, and then froze on her face. She was absolutely gorgeous. Not a crooked angle to be found and eyes that, god knows why, found his. Her lips spread in a smile as she slid the sunglasses from the top of her head down into place. And then she turned and walked away.

  Rocky had never wanted to risk it all before, but at that moment he threw caution, good sense, and reality to the wind and ran after her.

  “Rocky, man, what the hell?”

  Axel’s voice slid away in the background, somewhere from a galaxy far, far away.

  Keeping his eyes on her long, shiny black hair, he shouldered his way through the crowd crisscrossing the busy street. Part of him wanted her to look back, to see him again, to stop and wait; the other part thought she’d see his determination as insanity and run.

  Axel was still calling out from Tatooine, but Rocky kept going, closing in. Ten feet from her, his heart started pounding through his chest, going so berserk he felt it throbbing in his neck. The world beneath his feet swayed as he stumbled. His stomach flipped. And then, he fell.

  She turned around as he hit the ground.

  Everything went black behind a series of light spots tap-dancing in his vision.

  “Are you okay?” she said.

  Her face appeared. He took in her brown eyes, thick, dark eyebrows scrunched in concern, and full red lips parting to speak to him.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Ah….”

  He was on his back. The clear blue sky above suddenly filled with a variety of sunburned faces that were just out of focus in her presence.

  “I…I think so,” Rocky said.

  He tried to get up. Her hand pressed against his chest.

  “No. Don’t get up yet,” she said as she raised her chin. “Anyone got some water? I think maybe he’s got heatstroke.”

  She accepted a water bottle from someone, thanked them, and then lowered it to his lips. Under her spell, he opened up his mouth and accepted the cold wet drink. The bottle could have been filled with battery acid or Pepto Bismol; he would have taken any remedy she had to offer.

  “There,” she said. “Give me your hand.”

  She stood and pulled him to a sitting position. He still felt a little fuzzy, but better than before.

  “How do you feel?” she said.

  Her face reminded him of someone.

  “What’s your name?” she said.

  Someone on TV.

  “Hey, you got a name?”

  “His name is Rocky,” Axel said, as he waded past the old woman behind this dark-haired angel and knelt next to him. “You okay, man?” he asked.

  “Rocky?” she said. “Like in the movies?”

  “Yeah,” Rocky said.

  “And who are you? Apollo?”

  “Ha! That’s a good one,” Axel said. “Nah, I’m Axel. I’m his cousin.”

  Rocky never wanted Axel to disappear from this planet more than he did at that very moment.

  Go to England already!

  “Well,” she said, sliding her shades down over those deep brown eyes, putting her hands in her back pockets, and shrugging her shoulders. “Glad to see you’re okay, Rocky. You better keep that water. And maybe you should go back inside the arcade. Stay out of the sun for a bit.”

  With that, she turned and vanished into the dispersing crowd.

  “Hey, hey!” Rocky shouted. He tried to get up, but moved too fast, and dropped back down on his ass. “What’s your name?”

  He couldn’t see her, but out of the static of voices he heard it loud and clear.

  “November.”

  Chapter Three

  He wanted to spend the night at Axel’s. With his cousin leaving for most of the summer, it was their last chance to hang out, but Axel’s dad had said no. He said they were leaving too early in the morning; they had a six a.m. flight. They let him stay over until almost six and then sent him home. He said goodbye to his cousin and aunt and uncle and made the short walk back to his house.

  His mother was making dinner. With Dad coming home late during the week, they tended to eat dinner at six thirty most nights. Sometimes, they didn’t have supper until nearly eight. Rocky waltzed through the living room without mentioning his episode of heatstroke that afternoon or the gorgeous girl who had saved him. Instead, he told his mom to call to him when the food was ready and slunk into his room. He tried to play Atari to keep his mind off everything. Unfortunately, Pacman and Galaga were more exciting at the arcade and try as he might, he just couldn’t concentrate.

  His gaze drifted to the second controller. The thought of Axel not being here all summer seemed like a strange dream. The impending loneliness crept its way into his head, crawling down into his guts just as his stomach rumbled. Who was he supposed to play games with? Who would stay up and watch Dee Snider’s Heavy Metal Mania with him?

  There was November, but he didn’t really know if he’d see her again. And what if she spaced out and avoided him, or worse, what if she had just been messing with him?

  He hung his head as Blinky caught up with him, taking his last life.

  He dropped the controller to the floor.

  “Dinner’s ready,” his mom yelled.

  As he shut off the machine, his guts rumbled like an oncoming thunderstorm. He wasn’t just hungry, he was starved. He hurried down the hallway to the kitchen and took his place at the table. His mother had made hamburgers, scalloped potatoes, and green beans – a Clarise Zukas Specialty, if a meal that made its appearance every Monday night could be considered special. Her food was always good, and even with a stomach floundering full of spiders, his mouth watered at the sight of those scalloped potatoes.

  “You look worn out,” sh
e said as he pulled out a chair and dove into the meal.

  “Where’s Dad? Where’s Julie?” he mumbled through the first mouthful of potatoes.

  “Oh, your father made a pit stop over at your Uncle Arthur’s, helping with some project or another. My brother can always find an excuse to get your father over for a drink.”

  Uncle Arthur was a beer man. He’d worked for a company in Portland for years until he got hurt on the job. He won some lawsuit and now got to sit at home tinkering on things or tearing them apart so he could put them back together. His uncle was a peculiar guy, for sure, but he told great stories and had a smile that made you feel good to be somewhere with someone real.

  “Your sister is out with her boyfriend.”

  “Brick?”

  “Rocky,” his mother said, cocking her head and giving him her be nice face. “You know his name. And besides, I think he might be a good guy for your sister. He has a job, he has a—”

  “A motorcycle.”

  “Well, I don’t care much for motorcycles, but he’s nothing but nice when he’s over, so you should at least give him the decency of using his actual name. Understood?”

  He couldn’t argue with her. She held the keys to his future and his freedom. Mom would decide when he could set a date for his driver’s exam, the one thing that could save his summer, so if that meant being nice to Julie’s meathead boyfriend, so be it. He could handle that, at least in front of his mother. If he got that licence and cruised down the avenue, maybe the girls would notice him.

  The thought brought November back to the front of his brain.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes,” she said, finally taking up the seat next to him. The smell of her flowery perfume was comforting, part of her motherly ozone that always drew him to her. She forked some green beans, looked at him with her blue eyes, holding the steaming veggies before her mouth.

  Rocky swallowed his burger and cleared his throat. “Would it be all right if I went out for a little while?”

  She chewed up her food and placed her soft hand in front of her lips. “Back to Axel’s? I thought they sent you home so they could get ready for the trip?”

  “No, I was just going to go out for a walk on the beach, clear my head, get some fresh air. It’s cooled off quite a bit.” He knew she didn’t like him venturing out alone, especially during tourist season. He and his mom had spent too many Friday nights together watching episodes of 20/20 where children were kidnapped and never seen again. Grieving mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. If anything, the paranoia the show ingrained in him gave him an edge around crowds. He was always looking over his shoulder and ready to run at the first sign of someone creepy.

  “I’ll be safe. I won’t even stay out for long. I just need….” What did he need exactly? Just to get out, to be where she might be. “I just need the fresh air.”

  “I guess I could eat dinner by myself,” she said, lowering her chin.

  “I can finish supper and then go,” he said, reaching across the table and putting his hand on hers.

  She looked up and smiled. “Okay, but I want you back shortly after dark, if not before.”

  “Deal,” he said.

  He started to shovel green beans into his mouth, and then slowed down. Looking up at her, he grinned.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “You can head out now. I’ll be fine. Go.”

  “You sure?” he said. The green beans made him sound like Mushmouth from Fat Albert.

  “Yes, and don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  He swallowed, forked the final corner of potatoes down his gullet and grabbed the remainder of his burger. Taking a bottle of Crush from the fridge, he gave her a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Back by dark,” she said.

  He walked out the front door and headed toward the thriving seaside attractions.

  * * *

  The lights and sounds of a summer beach town played all around, a carnival that stayed on for the season. The melody of voices – the laughter, the hoo-rahs, the French-Canadian back and forths – accompanied the roar of specialised mufflers that blatted out from tough-looking cars and Hell’s Angels-ready bikes. Nestled in between these sounds were the cheers, screams, and music from the amusement rides, the live band playing at Barbara Anne’s, and if you walked to the edge of it all, you could hear the Atlantic whisper promises of serenity to the shore. Rocky had lived here his entire life and this orchestra, this show, every year, never got old. If anything, it revitalised him. Reminded him how great it was to live here, to get this experience that a lot of these people milling around paid big bucks to feel, year in year out, for nothing. Locals had to put up with loud nights and strange people passing through, but that too was a part of the charm. A young man couldn’t ask for more, with all the babes from Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York, and all points Canada to gawk at and dream about. Some spoke with great accents, some were completely foreign, couldn’t speak a lick of English and just smiled instead. That was more than enough. The girl he’d kissed at the Foreigner concert last year spoke terrible English, but that hadn’t stopped them from holding hands. He still couldn’t believe he’d had the guts to touch her let alone kiss her. Julie told him it was because he had a contact high from the Mary Jane. Whatever it was, it had been wonderful. At the end of the day or night, talk is overrated. It’s all about the spaces in between, the whispered promises that you have to go to the edge to hear.

  “Hey, Heatstroke,” a voice called out.

  There she stood, her back against the front of Louie’s Sports Shop, yellow Chuck on the building, green Chuck planted firmly on the ground. She’d swapped out the Twisted Sister shirt and jeans for a yellow Star Wars ringer t-shirt and a purple skirt that met the knees of her pale legs. Her dark hair, darker lips, and the gleam of the neon light in her eyes spilled his thoughts to the ground. He mumbled something but didn’t know what.

  “Come on,” she said.

  And just like that, they were off.

  He wanted her to reach back and take his hand. She didn’t. She walked, glided was more like it, pacing every other person on the block. He followed, his heart thumping as fast as Pacman on power pellets, as they made their way out past all the shops and entered the gates of Palace Playland.

  “Hungry?” she said, calling over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, sure,” he lied. The Clarise Zukas Special in his belly was being fed to the spiders from Mars that seemed to have been planted there with November’s arrival. She might not have been Ziggy Stardust, but she was every bit as intriguing and mysterious.

  She stopped at Palace Dough Boys.

  “Two fried doughs, please.”

  He stopped behind her, trying to catch his breath, and wiped his sweaty palms on his knees.

  Stay cool.

  After a few seconds of crossing then uncrossing his arms, rubbing his hands together and then scratching at his ear, Rocky put his hands in his pockets just to settle the whirlpool of emotions trying to swallow him.

  “Where are your parents?” he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

  The greasy-looking, grey-haired guy at the dough stand handed her two paper plates. She thanked him and handed him a five.

  If she’d heard his question, she didn’t answer. She took the plates to the side counter and applied both powdered sugar and cinnamon.

  “I could have gotten mine,” Rocky said.

  “Nonsense. You have to get the mix just right.” She finished up and handed the plate over. “Here. Take a bite and let me know what you think.”

  Never one to put cinnamon on his fried dough, he hesitated for a split second before trying it. “Wow,” he said, chewing the warm bread. “That’s really good.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

  He watched her gaze all around,
taking in every sight, sound, every breath like it was the first time she’d ever been someplace like this. It was hard to imagine, she seemed so comfortable here, and navigated through the crowds and buildings like she’d been here since the days of the settlers. She gazed up at the darkening sky, nodded, and added, “Perfect. Just like tonight.”

  While she got lost in the beauty of his town, he stared at her. Her smooth neck, her chin, and he even managed to be a gentleman only taking a quick glance at the way her boobs pressed against the fabric of her t-shirt. Luke and Han were two of the luckiest guys on Earth right now and they didn’t even know it.

  He snapped his eyes back up to meet hers as she smiled.

  “So,” she said. “What else do you do around here for kicks, beside playing arcade games and chasing girls you don’t know?”

  “Ahh…swim?”

  She nodded. “Okay, that sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

  “What? You mean like, right now?”

  The thought of her seeing his back brace and yucking out like Becky Colby made his chest tight. He wished he’d taken it off before he came out, but he hadn’t thought to. Hell, he didn’t really think he’d see her again.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not. The water’s probably still warm and—” Her eyes dropped to his jeans. “I bet you left your trunks at home, huh?”

  My way out.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I was just coming out for a walk—”

  “No problem.” She nodded back toward the square and shoved off in that direction.

  “What are we doing?” Rocky said, his stomach turning on him again.

  “Getting you some swimwear. Unless you wanna chance going in in your tighty-whities.”

  His face flushed with warmth.

  “Here,” she said.

  He followed her into a tourist trap he’d never been in before. It was one of many little shops with Hawaiian shirts and vibrant-coloured shorts and swimsuits in the window.

  She snatched green trunks from a rack, placing them against his waist.

  He pulled his hips away from her before her hands could make contact and bumped a large woman behind him with his butt.