45. Forty Two
Forty Two
Creed
Something is off.
My brother has always been a decent gift giver, but this surpasses even my expectations. And I once insisted on a pet pig.
“It’s not a big deal,” he insists. A toothbrush hangs out the corner of his mouth as I watch him in the mirror. I purse my lips in suspicion.
“You never want to go on trips.”
“It’s your birthday.”
“So?”
“So, I’m trying to be nice. Is that okay?” He shakes his head like I’m the one being unreasonable.
A glob of foamy spit shoots out of his mouth and slides down the edge of the sink. My nose wrinkles in disgust as I reach around him to turn the tap on, rinsing the basin.
With a whirl, Cecil fixes me with a glare and points the bristles at me. I put my hands up.
“Take it easy,” I sign, eyes wide in feigned fear.
Cecil’s eye twitches. “Do you want to go or not?”
My lips stretch into a mischievous grin.
“Of course I do.”
“Then leave me alone and pack a bag.”
Before I can respond, he drops the toothbrush on the countertop and exits the bathroom. Though I’d like to harass him further, I settle on a petulant huff and do as I’m told.
Long car rides are my personal version of Hell.
Add the fact that I have no idea where I’m headed?
Hell on steroids. Cecil refuses to give up any information other than we’re staying overnight.
Over the past three and a half hours, I’ve attempted to connect the dots and figure out our destination.
He had me pack an array of sandwich ingredients, as well as various fruits and snack foods.
And that tells me… nothing, really. Oh, but there’s a tent.
Camping? There’s no way my brother would trust a hotel, so camping is really the only option.
Eden is fast asleep, cheek smushed against the curve of my shoulder.
A dark spot grows on the cotton of my shirt from slowly seeping drool.
It’s a good thing, too. About five miles into the drive, she dug her nails into my jean clad thigh and insisted that I stop bouncing my leg.
After some back and forth where we swatted at one another like a couple of alley cats, Cecil slammed the brakes and insisted that we both be still. The hyperactive leg persisted.
The terrain on some of these “roads” has me questioning whether or not they’re actually meant to be driven on. When I asked Cecil how he knew where we were going, he simply responded, “Map.” My brother, so clever.
The sun is directly overhead, and the sky appears larger out here. It stretches for miles, an infinite pool of blue. Even the horizon appears blue, like the Earth is set upon a mirror. Actually…
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Jerking forward, I slap the dashboard. Eden’s head falls from my shoulder and she slides between the seat and my hunched back.
“Beach!” I sign.
Cecil doesn’t look at me, but he doesn’t have to. The roll of his eyes tells me everything I need to know. He shrugs once as though to say, Obviously.
Eden wakes and rubs her eyes. When I tell her where we’re going, her excitement doesn’t even come close to matching mine. All she offers is a yawn and a thumbs up. Party pooper.
Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling into what appears to be a completely deserted stretch of sand.
There’s been no sign of life—well, human life—in at least the last seventy-five miles.
It’s only sky, water, and the nature that inhabits it.
It’s better than anything I could have asked for. Which begs the question,
“Why?”
Cecil’s jaw tenses as he parks beneath a cluster of trees.
“Birthday,” he says simply. Still, this seems a little overkill. I want to continue my interrogation, but Cecil reaches beneath his seat and pulls out a rolled up paper bag. Tossing it into my lap, he motions for me to open it.
With eager hands, I unfurl the wrinkled sack and shove my hand in. Fist closing around fabric, I yank it out, and am greeted with… a lavender one piece?
Head cocking in confusion, I run my thumb along the built in pads on the chest.
“I’m not sure it will fit,” I begin. Cecil snatches the fabric out of my hand and sets it on Eden’s lap instead. I reach in again and come back with a pair of tropical patterned swim shorts. They’re arguably the ugliest article of clothing I’ve ever seen.
They’re perfect.
Fumbling with the door handle, a grip on my arm stops me before I can head for the rolling waves. Expecting to find Cecil’s hand on me, I’m surprised when I look down to pale and slender fingers. Eden nibbles at the edge of her lip nervously.
“It’s safe?” She asks, looking to my brother for confirmation. Cecil’s cheek dimples momentarily; I’m not sure if he’s fighting a smile or a frown.
“Safe enough,” is his vague response. She doesn’t look convinced, but her hand falls away.
And I bolt into the sunshine.