9 #2
That idea is promptly killed by someone shifting in the corner of my eye.
Owen’s gaze follows the woman as she walks towards her friends. He’s staring shamelessly at the sway of her body in the water, and it’s as much as I can stand. I shove him sideways with the force of my full body.
“Ew! Stop staring at her, creep.”
“The fuck are you talking about? I only noticed her because you were staring at her!”
“I am a woman and an artist. I appreciate the female form.”
“Oh, spare me, Amelia. You want a piece of that just like I do.”
I look around at my friends. “Am I the only one who hears him referring to women as that?”
“Jesus, would you two give it a rest?” Andy says. “If you want to fuck each other then just do it and cut the public foreplay.”
“Woah!” Nolan yells, and I know it’s not to defend me, but because the idea of his sister as a sexual being is abhorrent.
“He wishes,” I say, splashing Owen before moving to the other side of Sophie, creating distance between us.
“Oh, and I saw you checking me out, Amelia. You want a piece of this, too.”
“In your dreams, dickhead.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?” Sophie says, always trying to make peace.
“Lia and I were actually just talking about sea turtles and I have lots of turtle facts I could share with you guys if you want! There are even some types of sea turtles that are native to Massachusetts, though I’m not sure if any of them come to this beach specifically, but—”
Owen reaches up to shield his eyes from the sun, and the movement catches my distractible brother’s attention. He interrupts Sophie’s turtle rant to exclaim, “Woah man, where did you get that scar? It’s gnarly.”
Nolan’s eyes are locked on Owen’s upper arm, the ugly mass of scar tissue slashing across it.
“Oh, uh…”
“Nolan!” Sophie yells. “You can’t say stuff like that.”
“No, that’s okay,” Owen says. “I guess it was… like seven years ago now.”
“What happened?” Nolan asks.
“Oh, just, uh, bar fight. Caught a stray bottle.”
“Jesus,” Andy says, and I don’t know if he’s more horrified about the fact of the fight or the severity of the scar. It is pretty fucked up looking, jagged and raised like it healed roughly. Jesus…
“What happened?” Sophie asks, all doe eyes and open concern.
“Oh, uh, we don’t have to get into it,” Owen says.
“No, man, you have to tell us,” Nolan insists. “I bet it’s a crazy story.”
Owen looks like he’s going to deflect again, but that’s when Andy chimes in, asking, “Really, what happened?”
The deep crease between Andy’s brows is so him, the weight of worry folding Andy in on himself, and Owen relents.
“I was just in a bar, and a guy started getting pushy with one of my friends. When she couldn’t get him to leave, I got in the middle of it. Got hit with a bottle.”
“Oh my God,” Sophie says, hand softly raised to her lips like she’s hearing about some noble, heroic feat instead of a bar fight between two assholes. She asks, “Were you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I was fine.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” Andy says, jaw hard.
“I mean, yeah, I obviously lost blood and had to get stitches but clearly I’m fine now.”
And this whole thing is a bit much, no? I mean sure, on paper it’s good that he was looking out for a woman he’s friends with, but knowing Owen as a person I’m sure it was more of a macho pissing contest than anything else.
I’m thinking about saying something to that effect when Andy jumps in again.
“Look, can you not do stuff like that?” he asks, much more emotive than before. “Mom would lose it if she ever heard that story.”
“Well, yeah. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys even though—” Owen pauses, like he caught himself saying what he shouldn’t.
“What?” Andy asks.
Owen looks around the circle like one of us might be able to save him. We can’t and won’t.
“Even though… that’s why I missed your graduation. It happened right before and I was still recovering from the blood loss. I wasn’t supposed to travel.”
And that is surprising. A ripple of shock passes over the group—tense with subsonic vibration, the string of the brothers’ relationship pulled too tight.
“Why didn’t you just say that?” Andy asks.
“You said it yourself. Mom would’ve lost it. And it would’ve made that whole day about me.”
Sophie moves to Andy’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” Andy’s posture is tense, a swallow moving thickly down his throat. “It would kill mom if something worse had happened to you. It would literally kill her.”
“What would you have me do? Stand back and watch this guy harass a girl right in front of me?”
And that’s as much as I can take. I’m rolling my eyes as I say, “Christ, what a savior complex.”
Nolan shoves me. “That was your takeaway from that story, Lia?”
Owen scoffs a dry laugh. “Believe me, I’ve never been good at the savior thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andy asks.
Owen doesn’t answer.
Eyes dart around our circle, landing nowhere. It’s fucking awkward.
Eventually, Owen tries to change course. “Anyway—Nolan, you said you’re cold? Want to head in?”
“Yeah, dude. My nuts are like all the way recessed into my body.”
I scream “Ew!” and Sophie screams “Nolan!” and then we’re heading for shore, clambering away from that conversational riptide.