Chapter 4, Napoleon This
Ocean Gate, New Jersey
David has just settled into that cozy place somewhere between asleep and awake with the sun warming the car and ocean air breezing in the window, when a muffled voice reaches him from the front seat, drawing him back toward alertness. Christopher, mumbling the words to whatever song happens to be on the radio. He's preparing to open his eyes when Christopher shifts in the front and the radio volume suddenly hits the roof.
"Behind the guh-un, I will make my final stand," Christopher sings along to the classic rock tune, his voice loud and unashamed.
"Christopher?" David questions him quietly, not willing to move just yet.
"That's why they call me," he pauses as the music does, banging the heels of his palms on the steering wheel with the drums. "Bad Company, and I can't deny."
"Christopher?"
"Bad, bad company, till the day I die."
"Christopher, shut up," David moans from the back seat. "I was trying to sleep."
"What's the problem General? You know the words. Sing along," Christopher encourages. David sits up with a growl and leans over the seat to turn the volume down.
"No, I don't know the words and I don't sing and now I can't sleep either," he rants.
"Touché," Christopher admonishes with a glance in the rearview mirror at the disgruntled boy. "We're almost there anyway."
"Fabulous," David growls. He really hadn't expected them to make it this far. The fact that they had was oddly liberating, but those thoughts were easily squashed by his annoyance with Christopher and the fact that he was supposed to be at work, back in Chicago, in an hour.
Eight red lights, five wrong turns, and one very fast drive in reverse down a one-way street, accompanied with lots of yelling, later they find a parking space near a public beach. Christopher is first out of the car, sliding on his pair of dark sunglasses to block out the white bright sun.
"Wow," he says, gazing out at the ocean. "Looks just like Lake Michigan. Glad I drove nine hundred miles to see it."
David crawls out of the car and slams the door.
"It's nothing like the lake," he says and motions for Christopher to follow him across the sun-baked sand.
"Big. Blue. Watery," Christopher rambles. "Yep, I see now. Polar opposites."
"First of all," David almost yells, gesturing wildly toward the shore. "Look at that water. It's clean. It's clear." He waits for Christopher to nod in relenting agreement before continuing. "Look at the waves. They're huge."
"There ai'nt no surf in Chicago, USA," Christopher admits and David actually grins a little in response.
"Exactly." They slip out of their shoes and leave them high on the sand before wading into the water, salty waves sloshing around their ankles.
"Lake doesn't pull like this either," Christopher comments.
"Yea," David glances over at him. "Be careful." Christopher squirms at this and kicks water in David's direction.
"Be careful," he throws back in a dorky voiced rendition. "Okay Mom."
"I was just--"
"Yea, yea, Dave. Don't worry about it," Christopher replies, shaking his head. The guy wouldn't pick up on a joke even if it slapped him in the face. It's something, Christopher decides, he'll have to work on.
"Wish I had a boat," David mutters, squinting out at the horizon.
"Navy man all the way, huh?" Christopher jokes,oblivious to the meaning behind his words as he ventures further until the water reaches his knees. David looks over at him sharply.
"My dad was in the Navy," he says quietly. "A Marine."
Well, that explains a lot, Christopher thinks, and then says so, which is typically how his brain works.
"What's that supposed to mean?" David asks, immediately on the defensive.
"Nothing," Christopher shrugs. "I didn't know that. It explains a lot."
"Like what?" David presses, sloshing a few steps toward him.
"Like, your freakishly Napoleonesque tendencies," Christopher says and then has two seconds to register David charging at him before he is tackled and shoved underwater. He takes one mouthful of salty seawater before the hands on his shoulders relent for a moment and he sits up, spitting and gasping for air.
"Napoleon this, you clown," David growls and shoves him under again. This time, Christopher comes up laughing and David only glares for a moment more before breaking down and joining him. When they settle down some, Christopher grins wickedly and dives at David, tickling fingers searching for the sensitive skin on his sides. The General's laugh isn't something he hears often and it's almost like a familiar stranger, sloughing off David's thick skin of anxieties, and for once, relaxing. Maybe it's the ocean water, he thinks, but he wouldn't mind getting to know that stranger a bit better.
By the time they wade back out of the waves, they are both completely soaked and Christopher's rock n' roll sunglasses have been lost in the Atlantic.
"Another casualty at sea," David tells him as they sprawl out on the warm sand. They nap the afternoon away on the beach, listening to the roar and rhythm of the waves, only thinking about hitting the road late that evening when their clothes are fully dry and their faces are permanently blushed from the sun. They stumble back to the car and climb in, smearing sand all over the seats in the process.
"Where to now?" Christopher asks as he starts the car. David doesn't answer for a moment, looking at the clock on the dash. It's 7 p.m., he's in New Jersey, with Christopher of all people, he's missed an entire shift at work, and he couldn't care less.
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A/N: I've only seen the ocean in Florida, but I'll assume its pretty similar to the ocean in New Jersey. I apologize if I am mistaken and ya'll take great pride in your ocean over there in Jersey. For the record, all city names used have simply been plucked off a map. Also, the song is 'Bad Company' by (surprise, surprise) Bad Company. If you haven't heard it, I'd recommend checking them out. Thanks to all that read. :)