Chapter 24 The Hippie Night #2
“Let’s all chill out a little,” I try to mediate.
“Whoa!” She acts shocked, putting her hand over her chest. “I’m just trying to figure out the beds so nobody has to sleep in the car!”
What a mess…
“If he wants to sleep in the car, he can sleep in the car,” Loren pipes up.
“But wait…what’s the problem if I want to sleep with Gus?”
“Come on. I’ll sleep in the car,” the latter declares.
“Why? Did I suddenly turn into a leper without noticing?”
“Aroita, I never knew you were such a pain in the ass.”
“Gus…” Blanca cuts in. “Let’s not fight about this shit. Here’s what we’ll do, Aroa. Why don’t you choose whatever bed you want, and when we go to bed, the rest of us can decide. This whole conversation is stupid.”
“Done.” Aroa pulls her hair back with a hair tie she had on her wrist. “The stupid one will go to bed. You can all figure it out.”
“Wait, Aroa…” I try to say.
“Leave her.” Marín sits down again looking pissed. “When she gets like this…”
She turns around when she was just about to climb in the camper. “When I get like this, what? Finish the sentence.”
Marín takes a deep breath, refusing to look at her, and then gives an exhausted sigh that makes it clear he’s more than used to this stuff. “Weren’t you going to sleep?” he retorts, picking up his half-drunk can. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
If smoke could come out of a human’s nose, Aroa would be an industrial chimney.
The door slams so hard it echoes across the whole beach, and we’re all left in silence and with no clue what to do.
But Marín jumps up. We all tense up, like he’s going to follow her and we’re ready to stop him, but he just brings his chair closer to the table calmly, with his Coke can in his hand, and looks at us with surprise.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Gus manages to say, putting his hands up.
“Let’s go the beach, right?”
And Marín’s proposal is music to my ears.
* * *
Have you ever sat on the cold sand of a beach in the middle of the night?
A beach where there’s not a soul, where only the ocean reigns, no lights, no shelter from a boardwalk or the noises of everyone walking along it?
There’s no need for words; silence is enough because it whispers that you’re right where you want to be.
Nothing else is needed. But Marín still whispers to ask if he can put on music.
“Why not, you music junkie.”
Marín flips through his Spotify playlists until he comes across the one he seems to be looking for. A kind of electric melody plays, and a woman’s voice drifts over us, rough but sweet, like a wave filled with sand.
Loren is sitting a little farther forward with his hands buried in the sand, playing with it. I smile at his back; you know Loren loves you when he shares his silences with you.
To my left, Marín’s arms are propped on his knees, and his gaze is fixed on the sea, which we’re starting to see now that our eyes have adjusted to the dark. I scooch a little closer and rest my head on his shoulder. Unbothered, he puts his arm around my shoulders and kisses my hair.
To my right, Blanca hugs her knees to her chest, bundled in the skirt of her black floaty dress with bright colors embroidered on the bodice.
She’s barefoot, and her toes are buried in the sand.
Gus suddenly materializes out of the dark and sits next to her, on her towel.
They look at each other, they don’t say anything, and he opens his fist, where he seems to have a collection of shells and tiny pebbles.
“Peace offerings.” I lift my head up to look at Marín and see if he heard my whisper.
“Human beings relate to each other in very strange ways.” He smiles down at me.
“I like this song.”
I reach out and trail my fingertips over the hair on his left arm, which is still resting on his knees. Marín watches their journey without saying a word.
“It’s Carla Morrison,” he whispers.
“Is this okay?”
He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t it be okay?”
“Sometimes I’m like Velcro,” I say, making fun of myself.
Marín turns his head toward me again, and his smile is so sincere. “I like it when you stick to me.”
“Even when it’s hot?”
“Don’t go overboard.”
I crack up, and Marín’s eyes stay glued to my mouth, my smile. His stretches into a smile and freezes there. I love him.
I don’t even feel him move before he’s pressed against me, so I give a little jump that makes his grin widen.
His nose nuzzles into my forehead, sliding from one side to the other.
My mouth is right there, in no-man’s-land.
If I just lifted my chin a little, our mouths would meet.
I’m scared by the certainty that if no one else were here, I would.
I’d do it. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t carry the weight of what I feel for him anymore.
The heat of his lips lingers on my nose, and when he turns away, facing forward again, I curl up against his chest.
“Have you ever slept on the beach?” he asks.
“No. Never. Have you?”
“No. Should we do it?”
A little sand trickles onto my arm, and I turn around to see Gus and Blanca standing up.
“I’m fading.” Gus excuses himself. “You get me drunk and you don’t put on reggaeton or anything. I can’t do it.”
“Reggaeton, he says, the cool guy,” Loren murmurs, lying back on his towel.
“I’m going to check on,” Blanca adds, tilting her head toward the RV.
“Don’t bother,” Marín warns her. “It’s not worth it. She won’t listen to reason.”
“Are you staying?” Gus asks.
“Yes,” we say in unison.
“I’m not. I’m getting goose bumps from the breeze.” Loren struggles to get up, rolling up like a croquette and making the rest of us laugh. “Assholes.”
“Blanqui…” Marín and I are still snuggled up, and when he calls her, he barely moves. “Can you grab Coco’s sleeping bag? So we don’t have to go in and disturb everyone.”
“Of course. What about you?”
“We’ll share it.”
My eyes must be shining bright enough to be a lighthouse for the whole Andalucian coast. I’m snuggling harder into his side, thrilled, when I hear myself ask:
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
* * *
Gus is the one who comes over with the sleeping bag and a smile. I could swear I’ve seen that smile…a wolfish mixture of complicity and mockery.
“Don’t freeze out here, lovebirds,” he murmurs.
“It’s not like it’s winter,” I retort, ignoring the “lovebirds” part. “The breeze feels so good.”
“Remember when we knew what to expect from the seasons?” He laughs. “You’re gonna freeze. Either that or you’ll get crushed by the beach-cleaning machine.”
“Write us a nice eulogy if we do get run over by that machine.”
“Good night, couple.”
That “couple”’—did it have intention behind it?
We unzip the sleeping bag, spread the three towels out over the sand, and lie down on them, still fully dressed, and then throw the sleeping bag over us like a blanket. The breeze doesn’t bother us, but it’s nice to be under the covers for now.
“We’ll have to shake it out well or you’ll look like a breaded cutlet when you go to bed tomorrow.”
“If my mother could see me. She claims I’m like the princess and the pea. And look at me.”
“Without your feather pillow.”
“That pillow is the shit. Don’t make fun of it.”
“Try this one out.” He pats his chest.
Is that applause I hear? Ah, no, it’s my crazy desires, chanting my name to cheer me on.
I rest my head on his chest, and he puts his arm around me again.
I should restrain myself, but I take the chance to smell him when I take a deep breath.
He smells like a mixture of Hermès, Terre, the shower gel Blanca lent him a few hours ago on the beach, and the scent coming from my hair: ocean, shampoo, conditioner…
“Are you sniffing me?” he asks, laughing.
“I’m supposed to be the spoiled one… Did you put on cologne?”
“No. It’s just on my undershirt. If you’re wondering if it’s the second day I’ve worn it, it is.”
“You smell really good.”
“You too, Sardine.”
I gingerly slide my right leg between his and tuck my foot below one of his. Far from complaining, he settles in, but he takes part of our blanket and pushes it off. Cuddled up so close like this…it’s starting to get hot.
“The Perseids are on Saturday,” he murmurs. “Gema sent me a message to tell me that a boy invited her to watch them in some field. I told her that sounded good but I was actually having a heart attack. I’m still recovering.”
“That’s why you’re so grumpy, huh? The big brother…”
“Well, between Gema and Aroa.”
“Give her time.”
“Which one?”
“Aroa. Cut Gema some slack, Marín. She’s the most responsible and mature kid I know.”
“Yeah, being a teen mom is so cool,” he murmurs.
“Marín!” I scold him, laughing. “Don’t be like that. She’s at the right age for first kisses. You did all that back in your day.”
He turns and looks at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Back in my day? I don’t have any more first kisses to give?”
“Don’t twist my words. I didn’t say that. You still have plenty…” I hope just one, for me. I sigh. “You still have plenty.”
“Tell that to Aroa. See what she thinks.”
“Well, you’ll have to excuse me, but what Aroa thinks doesn’t really matter.”
“God…she’s such a tyrant.”
“That’s not true,” I say, trying to justify her behavior. “She’s adjusting to a new situation.”
“Ha.”
“What does that ‘ha’ mean?”
“It means the obvious, Sardine. I spent three years with her. And I don’t want to demonize her now. It’s not like that. It’s just that we…you and me, everyone else…we know each other as friends. As a couple… As a couple it’s a whole other level.”
“Well…” I rub my nose against his shirt. “Don’t let it get you down. That’s not what we’re here for.”
“So what are we here for?”
He turns his head toward me and smiles. I want to tell him that we’re here to start, to get the truth out of all the lies we’re telling, but I don’t, of course. I just snuggle closer and whisper, “To have fun.”
His phone is still playing music from under the blanket. I grab it and put it on his chest.
“What song is playing?”
“‘Heavenly Day’ by Patty Griffin.”
“I like it.”
“It’s fitting.”
The hand I let linger on top of the phone, on top of him, feels like it’s tingling.
I don’t have to look to know his fingers are stroking mine.
I’m scared he’ll feel the echo of my heart pounding against his side, but he doesn’t pull away.
We interlace our fingers and play with them. He looks at our hands.
“We said we weren’t going to sleep together,” I murmur.
“You know something? We’re definitely not here to keep promises for other people. We’ll keep them for ourselves… We already have plenty.”
I don’t know what to add besides the silent promise that, whatever happens, tonight will lodge in my chest as the highlight of this trip.