I pick up my things: cigar, cutter, lighter, sunglasses and cell phone. Everything is stowed away in my pockets and I begin to leave.
“ Where are you going?” Dad asks but I don’t quite hear what he says. He repeats himself and I explain I’m going for a walk down the beach, not taking the car, be back later. “Alright” he chuckles at my slight deafness and I walk out the front door. I start to meander down the dirt road towards the beach. It’s hot and humid but there’s just enough wind to keep me cool. I’ve got my sunglasses on, Wal-mart aviators with solid white frames. Blake helped me pick them out. A boy rides past me on a scooter. He can’t tell where my eyes are but maybe he’ll smile… never mind. I continue to walk and the wind picks up. I can hear the waves. A girl drives up in a giant truck and parks. It’s a Chevy I think. She steps down and walks by. She’s cute and quite tan. She’s wearing a colorful dress with all the shades of fire. I’m not sure she cares I’m here at all. I continue down towards the water. I finally reach the dock and my sandals are talking.
“Flip! Flop! Flip! Flop,” go figure.
There’s a family taking some pictures on the boardwalk , but the girls don’t seem into it.
“Stop crossing your arms! Put your arms down!” the father is trying to take a picture.
“You look like you’re scowling,” the mother is the prep team but isn’t doing a great job. The girls are probably too young to understand, not in the mood for pictures. I slip off my shoes and I go down into the sand and take the cigar out of my right pocket. It’s darker than I remember. I’ve had this one more than once. I take out my cutter and position it just right to cut without unraveling the leaves. Perfect. I take off the stickers one by one. First the one that says “Rocky Patel,” then the one that reads “Vintage 1992.” I love this cigar. I take out my lighter and begin to puff away to get it started. I can’t see the signature blue flame but I can hear it and I taste the smoke. It’s familiar. It’s lit and I start to stumble through the sand thinking where I’m going to go and how I’ll know when I’m back. What? I won’t get lost, there’s a huge flow of water from the ocean to an inlet that’s right beside our boardwalk. I start to make my way closer to the shore and I begin walking towards the west watching the sun go down. Another family is taking pictures in the classic white and khaki. They’re using piece of driftwood for scenery. How convenient. I wonder if they knew it was on fire just a few days ago from the fireworks on the 4th. What does that mean?
I keep puffing away. I finally get to some more solid sand as I get closer to the water. There’s still seaweed everywhere but the rank, sour smell is gone. I see people relaxing. Kids are building sandcastles. Many are walking their dogs. There’s a miniature greyhound, a Shih Tzu. A group of pretty girls in bikinis is just ahead of me. What do I do? Why do I care? I try and act casual while I walk by smoking my cigar. Please acknowledge me…
I see a group of people gathered. There are chairs and one of those frames. What are they called? Something Jewish? Thanks Gilmore Girls. It must be a wedding but I see no bride or groom. Perhaps they’re coming. I ash the cigar. Tons more families are taking pictures. Black and khaki, white and khaki, all white, muted colors. It’s the gray spectrum… and khaki. So many memories for so many people are being made right at this moment. I wish I had someone with me. I can’t hear much because the waves are so loud. That’s alright. I dodge this way and that trying not to end up in too many pictures. There’s a good chance I’m in a few. Fun! I’m starting to sweat profusely, but I don’t mind. I feel wonderful. Usually I’m at least a little upset about something. I’m uncomfortable, or I want to pick a fight with some guy who looks like he needs it. That’s not the case today. Why would I be angry? Should I be? No. I ash some more and continue to puff away. About halfway there. A huge group notices me up ahead. They’re pointing at my cigar. It’s a big group of adults. What are they talking about? I don’t care. LSU fans.
I see tons of kids building sandcastles. They’re focused like they’re constructing the Eiffel tower. Attention to detail is key. Yet they’re having so much fun. I miss that. Am I not allowed to be a child anymore? Surely I can be sometimes. It’s hard. So many expectations. There’s a woman relaxing in a chair surrounded by children next to her husband. She’s pregnant, VERY pregnant. She sits and lets her tummy relax between her knees. She’s beautiful. She seems not to be worried about her round stomach, as if it’s no big deal. But I know she cares. She’s serene. I want to be a father someday. The cigar is half burnt away. I continue walking and find myself thinking about this very thing. I should write all of this down. It’s so vivid in my mind. This is unusual. I don’t always think this illustratively. There’s a song stuck in my head. I like it there.
“I wanted love, I needed love, most of all, most of all…” I sing it to myself just loud enough for me to hear. These are the only words I can think of right now. Probably the only words I know. They mean a lot to me. I wish someone were here. I’m getting periodic texts from friends. This keeps part of my brain occupied. The cigar has hit the sweet spot. My thoughts start to drift away. I see a father and son playing, and the father falls into the sand. His son laughs with joy and they begin to chase one another. How fun. The scenery is gorgeous. The sun is bright orange behind blue clouds and I take off my sunglasses. How far have I come? The scenes on the beach start to blur together and I notice the cigar is nearly gone. I stop altogether. I take a good look out into the sea. It’s endless and I can’t begin to comprehend it. I feel the heat of the cigar on my fingers. I bend down to put it out and the tide takes it away. It’s time to turn back and see what I find on the way home. Home? Not sure about that anymore. I see a parade of different SEC colors and tents I overlooked on the way. Vols. LSU. Florida. I want to say “War Damn Eagle!” but I keep that to myself. Up to this point no one has spoken a word to me I’m getting close to a big chubby guy about my age with bleach blonde hair and earrings. He gives me a nod.
“I love your beard man! I wish I could grow mine like that!” he strokes an imaginary beard on his face.
“Ha, thanks man, I appreciate it!” I’m laughing and smiling. That was cool. Don’t get that often from strangers but I really do appreciate it. I continue down the shore back east. I’ve been following two guys for a while now. They just notice me. They’re drinking and chatting about something. Still can’t hear. I see the bride and groom from what I thought was a wedding the first time around. The ceremony is over and they’re having pictures taken down by the ocean. He looks unhappy, sort of irritated. I hope he really loves her. Not that it’s likely he doesn’t. I hope not. What a huge step.
There’s a girl my age sitting and playing with some sand. She’s alone but she smiles when I approach. She’s wearing a peach top with a black bottom. I want to sit down and chat but I’m too afraid. Plus now I’m sweating even worse than I was before. The back of my neck is drenched. I wipe my hair up and out of my face. There’s a man with who’s enjoying the wind and ocean.
“How’s it going?”
“Great! How about yourself?”
“Just wonderful,” he tips his glass of wine to me. Everyone seems much friendlier on the way back. Maybe the sunglasses make me less approachable. I’m not sure. I hike up the beach and pass the older gentleman so they can now follow me. It’s only fair we both have a turn right? I’m still wishing some was here alongside me. I’m getting closer to the end. Maybe it’s the beginning. Still people are flooding the beach with bright outfits and cameras. It’s that time of day. I see a man walking with a golden retriever. No leash. The dog is very old. You can tell by the way it hobbles in the sand and the grey features in its face.
“Over here Maggie,” he tries to get her attention but she’s fascinated with the scenery. I love the name Maggie. I’m almost to the inlet. I see another couple that must have recently gotten married.
“Congratulations,” I want to say as I pass by but the words don’t come out. He’s dressed in some form of military outfit. They look incredibly happy together. Like they could talk to each other forever. This is brightening my day. Two photographers circle around them with cameras.
“I feel like Troy, I can’t focus,” he says this but I’m not sure what it means. I trudge through the last few yards of heavy, dry sand and end up back on the boardwalk with my sandals.
“Flip! Flop!” I’m realizing that it’s sort of funny now. I walk back down the long dirt road. A small car flies by me. Probably inches from knocking me over. I’m overflowing with thoughts. It’s getting dark. I walk in the front door.
“You look like you’ve been running,” my dad’s in a different spot from when I left. He’s closer to Mom. They’re watching Hitch. I love this movie.
“Nope it’s just very hot out there.” I was drenched at this point. I picked up my journal and dried myself off. Then I pulled out my pen and started writing this story. I am still wishing someone was here with me. Then I realized, you’ve been listening this whole time.
