5 Years Earlier
I thrust my toes into the wet sand and broken shells at the water's edge. I was waiting. The excuse I gave myself for being out at such a late time, for crawling through my window, was that I was meeting my best friend, Ricky. But in actuality, Ricky was just a front. Something else was coming and I wanted to know what. "Hey Jaime," he said, plopping down in the sand next to me.
"Hey," I replied, thinking for a moment on the verbal frenzies conversations were.
"Did you hear about Green Day's new album? I hear they're calling it 'Nimrod'." Ricky remarked, starting off a new conversation.
"Yeah, and I'm so buying it- I hope it's as shibby as 'Dookie' was."
"I liked 'Insomniac' more though." Ricky attempted to defend his favorite CD, but half heartedly. He knew that if he started me on the topic of music or a band I liked that it was his fault when I was still going on 45 minutes later.
"I think they were trying too hard there, like trying to silence all the people who said they were too poppy to be punk. Although you can't deny that '39-Smooth' and 'Kerplunk' are the best of all their albums and LPs." He didn't bother to try and answer, hoping I guess that if he stopped talking I would too. And I did and he did and we sat in silence until he stood and pulled off his shirt, which looked even more worn out in the moonlight. As I reveled in the sight of his developing chest and tried to release my heart from the spot in my throat that it had jumped to, he pulled off his pants and shucked his shoes and socks. Standing before me, he announced, "Let's go swimming!"
Normally I was all for Ricky's schemes but I shook my head, trying to scare away the feeling that something would go wrong tonight, I'd miss out on my great thing. "Dude, it's like 11 o'clock!"
"C'mon Jaime," he pleaded, "Come into the water. Just for a little bit.."
"I..."
"If I drown while you're sitting there I'll tell God on you and you'll get in trouble!" I laughed and he smiled like a little child who made a parent forget he broke a window by making a joke about the ball or the bat, escaping a punishment.
I stripped down to my underwear, and let the cold water shock me and Ricky did the same. What'd I expect? It might be California but it was still March. Not exactly beach weather. Letting instinct take over we caved into ourselves, trying to get warm, letting the water wash over our hair and guarantee frostbite in the morning. Ricky looked at me and grinned, "Isn't this g-g-g-great?" he asked, teeth chattering like they were playing a solo in a mariachi band. I just nodded and fought the urge to hit him upside the head, resorting to glaring instead. When we got out we'd be even colder and how was I going to explain wet sandy clothes to my parents in the morning?
The waves pushed us closer together until we were almost on top of one another, trying to come up with enough body heat to be warm. "I think I'm g- g-gonna g-get out," I said.
"I c-could p-pee and then we'd both b-be warm," he remarked slyly and I couldn't help laughing into his face as he laughed into mine. The, it happened. One moment we were laughing and the next- my lips betrayed me and did the unthinkable. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What was wrong with me! I always ruin everything! "WHAT?!" he yelled, and backed out of the water like my lips had stung. I tried to stammer an excuse, and apology, something but I just ran out of the water. Grabbed my clothes and ran to hide under the boardwalk where the lights still shined. I huddled in my sandy costume, grit grating into my skin and snuffled once or twice. Like a child afraid of the dark or the unknown I curled into a ball. But, as I told myself, in the words of every father who's caught a son sobbing, boys don't cry.
I thrust my toes into the wet sand and broken shells at the water's edge. I was waiting. The excuse I gave myself for being out at such a late time, for crawling through my window, was that I was meeting my best friend, Ricky. But in actuality, Ricky was just a front. Something else was coming and I wanted to know what. "Hey Jaime," he said, plopping down in the sand next to me.
"Hey," I replied, thinking for a moment on the verbal frenzies conversations were.
"Did you hear about Green Day's new album? I hear they're calling it 'Nimrod'." Ricky remarked, starting off a new conversation.
"Yeah, and I'm so buying it- I hope it's as shibby as 'Dookie' was."
"I liked 'Insomniac' more though." Ricky attempted to defend his favorite CD, but half heartedly. He knew that if he started me on the topic of music or a band I liked that it was his fault when I was still going on 45 minutes later.
"I think they were trying too hard there, like trying to silence all the people who said they were too poppy to be punk. Although you can't deny that '39-Smooth' and 'Kerplunk' are the best of all their albums and LPs." He didn't bother to try and answer, hoping I guess that if he stopped talking I would too. And I did and he did and we sat in silence until he stood and pulled off his shirt, which looked even more worn out in the moonlight. As I reveled in the sight of his developing chest and tried to release my heart from the spot in my throat that it had jumped to, he pulled off his pants and shucked his shoes and socks. Standing before me, he announced, "Let's go swimming!"
Normally I was all for Ricky's schemes but I shook my head, trying to scare away the feeling that something would go wrong tonight, I'd miss out on my great thing. "Dude, it's like 11 o'clock!"
"C'mon Jaime," he pleaded, "Come into the water. Just for a little bit.."
"I..."
"If I drown while you're sitting there I'll tell God on you and you'll get in trouble!" I laughed and he smiled like a little child who made a parent forget he broke a window by making a joke about the ball or the bat, escaping a punishment.
I stripped down to my underwear, and let the cold water shock me and Ricky did the same. What'd I expect? It might be California but it was still March. Not exactly beach weather. Letting instinct take over we caved into ourselves, trying to get warm, letting the water wash over our hair and guarantee frostbite in the morning. Ricky looked at me and grinned, "Isn't this g-g-g-great?" he asked, teeth chattering like they were playing a solo in a mariachi band. I just nodded and fought the urge to hit him upside the head, resorting to glaring instead. When we got out we'd be even colder and how was I going to explain wet sandy clothes to my parents in the morning?
The waves pushed us closer together until we were almost on top of one another, trying to come up with enough body heat to be warm. "I think I'm g- g-gonna g-get out," I said.
"I c-could p-pee and then we'd both b-be warm," he remarked slyly and I couldn't help laughing into his face as he laughed into mine. The, it happened. One moment we were laughing and the next- my lips betrayed me and did the unthinkable. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! What was wrong with me! I always ruin everything! "WHAT?!" he yelled, and backed out of the water like my lips had stung. I tried to stammer an excuse, and apology, something but I just ran out of the water. Grabbed my clothes and ran to hide under the boardwalk where the lights still shined. I huddled in my sandy costume, grit grating into my skin and snuffled once or twice. Like a child afraid of the dark or the unknown I curled into a ball. But, as I told myself, in the words of every father who's caught a son sobbing, boys don't cry.