by Jay Quinn
“Did you read that homophobic letter in the bulletin?” Melanie demanded.
Rob looked across the front seat at Sven, who was steering them north. When Sven didn’t reply, he said, “Frankly, I thought it was unnecessary and just plain wrong.”
Caroline sighed and said, “At least it wasn’t a letter from the archbishop of West Palm Beach. Those bishops were from Virginia, and you know what a conservative stronghold that state is.”
“Yes, but whoever puts the bulletin together here decided to reprint it,” Melanie fumed. “I think it’s so un-Christian and bigoted. I don’t need that kind of crap put in my face at church, of all places. They should save their moralistic ranting for the pedophile priests they’ve shielded and protected for years.”
“Sven,” Karl added, “I read that letter, and I wondered how you could sit in that church knowing how those people feel about you, your life, and your partnership with Rob. I frankly can’t see why you stay in the Catholic Church. How do you live with it?”
“I’ve asked him the same thing,” Rob said. “I mean, okay, I understand they don’t approve, but why make such a big deal out of it? Even if being gay were a sin, it would be just one of many. They let all kinds of sinners in their doors. I don’t know why all the organized religions are making such a big deal out of gay marriage.”
“Seriously, Sven,” Karl pressed. “How do you reconcile being gay with being a practicing Catholic?”
Sven drove on in silence for a moment, letting the air get back in the car after being forced out by all the large questions and opinions it had been filled with. Finally, he said, “You know, you guys all have these really strong opinions about religion, and rejecting Catholicism, and being gay, and whatever, but none of you have suggested anything meaningful to replace it with.”
No one in the car said anything in reply. When no one countered his statement, Sven continued confidently, “I believe in Jesus, the Blessed Mother, the angels and saints. I believe in the Eucharist. Those things make me a Catholic. Not one of you has offered me anything to replace that with if I take my big gay ass out of the Church in protest. If I did that, what would I be left with? What you guys have? You don’t even go to church. What do you believe in? I’m sorry if I seem like some wimpy, no-balls faggot for taking the Church’s shit about being gay. But, it seems to me that all of you have dumped the church and replaced it with nothing but irony and smugness. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine with being a Catholic.”
The car was silent for a long time before Caroline finally muttered, “Well, I guess you told us.”
Sven laughed. “Look. I admit seeing that letter about civil unions in the church bulletin got under my skin, too. But I’m able to separate the Church from God, and the dogma from what God’s really all about. All I know is I go looking for God and I always find him at mass. Where do you all find God?”
“I don’t usually go looking for him,” Rob quipped.
Sven said adamantly, “I’m not joking.”
“Sven,” Karl offered after a moment, “if being a practicing Catholic is meaningful to you, I’m happy for you. I just don’t look for it anymore. I got out of the habit.”
“Sven, I have to agree with Karl,” Caroline said. “I guess that’s why they say people practice religion. I’m terribly out of practice myself. I’m sorry if we seemed condescending.”
“And I’m sorry if I seemed smug, Uncle Sven,” Melanie offered. “I just can’t reconcile the hypocrisy with the essential message. There’s no evidence Jesus ever said one word about homosexuality. The church expects us to believe it’s Christ’s voice on earth, but what I hear it saying about gay people doesn’t seem charitable, loving, or forgiving. That’s what Christ was all about.”
Sven sighed audibly and paused, obviously thinking of how to respond. Finally, he said, “Melanie, no priest has ever attacked me personally for being gay. And I don’t make a point of bringing a rainbow flag to mass.”
“Isn’t that just being accommodating?” Melanie demanded. “Aren’t you just partitioning your conscience?”
“That’s not what it’s about,” Sven explained patiently. “Members of any faith make their own decisions about its particular rules and regulations. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t see any Baptists or Arabs in the liquor store.”
“True,” Melanie conceded, “but it shouldn’t have to be that way.”
“In a perfect world, no,” Sven countered, “but I don’t live in a perfect world.”
“This is an unwinnable, endless discussion,” Karl said calmly. “I will say, I went to mass this morning for the first time in years, and I have to tell you I did feel something… something good and positive… profound, even. Why don’t we all agree that religion is a personal thing and leave it at that? Sven?”
“What?” he replied.
“I respect you. I wish I had your faith,” Karl said honestly. “Now, let’s talk about something else.”
“So what are you going to do with Dad’s crucifix?” Sven asked gently.
Karl thought a moment, and looked at Caroline. She returned his look with a questioning one of her own. “I’m going to hang it by my front door,” he said finally. “Out of respect, for one thing, and maybe because I believe in my own way I’m still a Catholic, too.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Sven said with finality, then, with a purposeful brightening of his voice, he asked, “Now, are we going to take a picnic to the beach, or are we just going to hang out there for a while and then grab a bite back at the house?”
“I don’t know about you guys,” Rob said. “But I’m going to make a gallon of screwdrivers and take it out with us. Anybody who wants one is free to join me.”
“Count me m,” Caroline said cheerfully.
“Me, too,” Melanie added. “I want to just lie in the sun and enjoy a little bitty buzz until it’s time to head back in.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sven agreed.
Karl thought about the tension that held all of his joints tightly screwed into their sockets at the moment. There had been so many times over the past few days that he’d felt like he was holding together too many fiercely struggling personalities and demands. A couple of hours in the warm sun with the ease of a drink loosening his tightly wound nerves sounded truly appealing. For a moment, he considered the driving he still had to do, then he thought of Melanie’s insistence that she drive. He decided to hell with it. In a four-day weekend, he deserved to unwind a little. He turned to Caroline and put his hand on her knee. “Don’t let me get drunk,” he instructed her.
“Don’t worry,” she said with a smile. “I’ll keep an eye on you.”
With that, he felt some of the anxiousness drain from his body. Karl surrendered to the momentum of the big SUV as it carried him north, closer to the beach and nearer to letting go.
18
BACK AT SVEN’S HOUSE, an eager gaiety took over the small group as they prepared for the beach. Karl noticed it as they all retreated to their bedrooms to change. The coming few hours promised to be relaxing, and all they expected of each other was an amiable good time. For the time being, all the weighty topics that defined the boundaries of his family were well marked, acknowledged, and taken care of. All he wanted to do now was withdraw from the tension on those borders and find some contentment.
When Karl closed the guest room door behind Caroline, he pulled his shirt over his head and spread it carefully over the back of the chair at the foot of the bed. “Are you going for the full-bathing-suit routine, or are you just going to wear something cool?” he asked.
Caroline stepped out of her pants and folded them carefully before laying them on the bed. “I think you’re asking me if I plan to go in the ocean, is that it?”
“Well, yeah,” Karl answered as he pulled off his jeans. “I don’t think I want to go swimming. The water’s probably only about seventy degrees, and the wind is probably cool off the water.”
Caroline pulled a str
appy undershirt from her suitcase and a pair of shorts that came well above her knees. As she unhooked her bra, she said, “That’s what I was thinking. I don’t think I’ll be swimming.”
Karl stole an admiring glance at her bare breasts before she pulled the shirt over her head. He pulled down his boxer shorts and kicked them toward his suitcase before he stooped to pick them up. Caroline pinched his bare ass hard and giggled. “You are in rare form today,” Karl said as he gave her a smile over his shoulder.
“You have the cutest butt in the world,” she said teasingly. “There’s not a hair on it.”
“That’s what you get for marrying a Swede,” Karl said as he stepped into his trunks and pulled them up. “But I have hair on my chest,” he said.
“Yeah, but just the right amount,” Caroline purred. “I don’t think I could stand being married to a gorilla.”
Karl carefully adjusted himself in his trunks and sealed the Velcro fly before snapping them closed. He tugged his T-shirt over his head and held it as he flexed a bit to tease Caroline’s admiring eye. When she rolled her eyes at his preening and snapped her own shorts, Karl turned and took out a less-fresh T-shirt from his suitcase and pulled it on.
“Where are your Tevas?” Caroline asked him. “I reminded you to bring them.”
“And I remembered them,” Karl said, “but I think I’m just going to go barefooted. It’s not hot enough to turn the streets or sand to molten lava.”
“Suit yourself,” Caroline said as she pulled a pair of flip-flops from her suitcase and dropped them to the floor. As she stepped into them, she glanced at the closed door and whispered, “You don’t think we offended Sven about the whole religion thing, do you?”
“No,” Karl whispered back. “I think he stated his position rather well. I don’t think he’s mad. Don’t worry about it.”
Caroline nodded her head. “We didn’t mean to be condescending. It’s just gotten to the point that no one we know believes in anything, or at least doesn’t talk about it.”
“Excluding your family,” Karl said back.
Caroline rolled her eyes and nodded. “Are you ready?” she asked in a louder voice.
“Yep,” Karl said happily. “I’m starting to feel like a Florida boy again.” With that he opened the door, and they made their way into the living room.
Sven stood at the sofa folding beach towels. He, too, was barefooted and dressed in only a longish pair of board shorts that hung low on his narrow hips. Karl noticed that Sven was slick as a seal, with no trace of hair on his chest or belly. He looked like a teenager with his long, raggedly cut hair and slender form. “I thought we’d each take a beach towel,” he said to Karl and Caroline, “but I have some beach chairs if you want to schlep them for two blocks.”
Karl looked at Caroline and said, “A towel’s fine for me, but I’ll carry a chair for you if you’d like one.
“No,” Caro said agreeably. “A towel is all I need.”
“Do you guys need another towel to dry off with?” Sven offered.
“We decided not to go swimming,” Caroline replied. “I think we just want to enjoy the sun.”
Sven nodded, then moved past them toward the kitchen. “I’m going to check on Rob. He insisted on packing a cooler.”
As he spoke, Rob emerged from the kitchen carrying the cooler with one hand. He was dressed as Sven was, in only a pair of board shorts. Unlike Sven’s skinny form, Rob’s was stocky and well muscled. His chest was well developed, and he boasted a set of solid abs.
Caroline nodded at him appreciatively as he made his way into the living room. “Speak of the devil,” she said.
Bashfully, Rob ducked his head and looked at the cooler in his hands. “I have drinks and snacks packed,” he admitted shyly. “I believe screwdrivers are healthier than Valium or Prozac.”
“I’ll second that, Uncle Rob,” Melanie said as she strode from the hall into the living room to join them. She had on a black tank swimsuit, which she filled nicely. “Drew got on Prozac during the last year of his MBA, and it was hell on our love life. But he got through it and stopped taking the meds.”
“I think that qualifies as too much information, Mel,” Sven said as her gave her a once-over. “That swimsuit fits like a glove. God, I remember you when you were nothing but elbows and knees. It’s hard to think of you being an adult, much less having a love life.”
Melanie laughed and preened a little. “Okay, prude,” she said. “If it makes you feel better, you can pretend I’m still ten. By the way, I have sunscreen,” Melanie announced as she held up a small bag that contained a variety beach items. “I’ll share.”
“Oh, good!” Caroline said, relieved. “I didn’t even think to bring any or consider needing it until this minute. You need some as well,” she said to Karl, calling attention to his fair skin.
“It looks like we’re ready,” Rob announced. “Let’s go.”
“Can Gretchen come?” Melanie asked as she looked around for the dog.
“Not today,” Sven said firmly. “She’s a lot of work on the beach. She’s a scent hound and naturally wants to follow all those delicious beach smells. She won’t stay still. Right now, she’s taking her morning nap in her kennel.”
“Okay, then,” Rob said impatiently, “let’s go.”
The walk to the beach wasn’t far. From where Sven’s street intersected with the beach road, it was only a little over two blocks to the public beach access that ran along the extreme edge of the island. There was a concrete sidewalk poured alongside the massive boulders that formed a breakwater for the inlet that lead to the port of West Palm Beach. As they walked along the sidewalk, Karl looked across to the island of Palm Beach just across the inlet. In the distance, he could make out the pink bulk of the Breakers Hotel. Singer Island lay immediately to the north of its expensive, privileged neighbor, while between the two islands the inlet teemed with jet skis and pleasure boats of many sizes, both sail and motor craft.
The weather was wonderful. Nearly eighty degrees, with a slight but steady onshore breeze that protected them from the sun’s heat, it promised to be a postcard-perfect morning. The little group made their way east to the beach, leaving the concrete walkway before it dead-ended at the old and ugly sand-pumping station at the inlet’s intersection with the sea. Today, as it had for years, Karl noted, the sand-pumping station served as a diving platform for teenagers who ignored the posted signage warning them off the structure. As a teen, Karl had jumped off the building’s projecting framework himself. That unique diving platform and a different variety of cute young women had lured him as a youth to Singer Island from the familiar beach a few blocks from his parents’ house.
Karl smiled to himself, recalling some of those teenage adventures, as he walked along the beach to a spot Rob decided was perfect for them to set up residence. As the others unfurled their towels into the breeze and stooped to settle them on the sand, Karl caught Caroline’s eye and said, “Watch this.” He knelt in the sand and proceeded to dig out a shallow hole with sides that sloped at comfortable angles both toward the sea and the island behind them. He smoothed the spoil from his small dig into two hillocks on the sides of the hole, and then carefully spread his towel over the void. After brushing off his knees and shins, he sat into what was now a comfortable chair of sand.
“Oooh, that’s nice,” Caroline said, looking over at him from her flat towel. “Make me one. Please?”
Smiling, Karl got to his feet and offered her his hand to help her stand. Once she was up and out of the way, he made quick work out of creating a sand chair for her as well. “There,” Karl said triumphantly as he finished arranging her towel over the hole and its sides for her.
Karl returned to his own improvised beach chair, and Caroline sank into hers with a satisfied sigh. “This is amazingly comfortable,” she said luxuriously. “My back and legs are completely supported. The only thing is; I can’t turn over.”
“Why would you want to?” Karl asked
. “Look at that view of the water! And we won’t be out here long enough for you to be worried about tanning evenly.”
She sighed happily, leaned across the short distance between them, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks!”
As Karl wriggled his hips to enlarge the hole his butt rested in, Rob appeared in front of them, extending two large plastic cups, each with a generous offering of iced vodka and orange juice. “If you get munchy,” he said as they took their drinks from him, “I’ve got some peanuts, cashews, and packages of peanut butter and crackers in the cooler. Just let me know,” he said as they took their drinks from him.
Karl took a sip of the drink and found it stronger than he’d anticipated. “Rob, are you trying to get us drunk fast?” he asked with a laugh.
Rob sat cross-legged on his own blanket between Caroline and Melanie and iced two more cups before filling them with the screwdriver mixture from a plastic milk jug. “They may seem strong now, but the ice will melt quickly out here and dilute it for you,” he said.
“You sound like you have experience doing this,” Caroline told him.
“Oh, I’ve lived in Florida all my life,” Rob told her. “When I was a kid, my family spent nearly every weekend on the beach. My dad liked surf-cast fishing, and my mom loved the sun. It’s a habit we’re all paying for now with regular trips to the dermatologist.”
“Have you had problems with skin cancer?” Caroline asked him with concern.
“Oh, yeah,” Rob told her. “I lathered up in SPF 60 before we left the house.”
“Me, too,” Sven ventured from his blanket next to Melanie at the end of their row. “While we tan beautifully, people from northern Europe were never meant to live this close to the equator.”
Karl scanned his own chest, belly, and legs. While he did have an occasional freckle on his thighs, he was mostly free of moles and dark spots. However, he could feel the southern sun’s intensity through the onshore breeze. It was intense despite the fact it was still technically winter. Spring officially remained a couple of weeks away. “Mel, you’d better pass me that sunscreen when you’re done,” he said. “I don’t want to spend the next week with a burn and peeling skin.”
