Chapter 12
Ispend the next couple of days organizing and cleaning the house—an activity I never have time to do at home but that I really enjoy.
Yes, very pick-me-girly of me. But it’s a perfect activity for two reasons: one, it is satisfying and two, it helps keep me from thinking of a certain kiss. Well, sort of.
When I least expect it, memories from the lighthouse explode in my mind and make me squeeze my eyes shut. I try to think of anything else. Anything. Bagels, new haircuts, tampons. Literally anything.
But whatever I think about, I can’t stop the embarrassment. And not because it happened—well, not only—but because it was a good kiss. Maybe the best I’ve had. Don’t ask me how it’s possible to have a good kiss with a rude and arrogant idiot. Sure, I’ve kissed idiots before, but none as big as him.
I try not to think about it when I do my morning run with Cactus. To my actual great joy, she runs with me further and further each morning. Today, she runs both back and forth along the beach until she decides to stop, and that’s when I take my opportunity to swim before we walk back home.
Yesterday when I was cleaning out the basement, I not only found a group of patio furniture but also a box of old photos. So, after a shower I take the box with me out to the porch along with my breakfast.
Liz was a real stunner with long fire-red hair and a face sprinkled with freckles.
I never knew her but somehow, by looking at these photos, I know I would’ve liked her.
She had a warm and playful smile, and a charming gap between her front teeth.
And by looking at these photos, I can tell her laugh was loud.
I’m not prepared at all when photos of my mom appear. She’s young. And gorgeous. Both Clara and I inherited her honey-blonde hair, but only Clara got her beautiful gray-blue eyes. I got Dad’s dark brown.
Mom and Liz look like members of ABBA. Like they’ve just performed “Dancing Queen” and now are resting with a . . . joint? I try to zoom in before I remember this is an analog photo and bring it closer to my eyes instead. Yeah, definitely a joint.
I snap a picture of it and immediately send it to the family group chat.
Me: Mom, what the actual fuck?
Mom: Language, June.
Me: Yeah, like that’s the issue here . . .
Clara: Mom, are you smoking a spliff?
Clara: I like it. Even though it feels kind of hypocritical now in hindsight remembering how you used to nag and yell on June and me about NEVER USING DRUGS because DRUGS CAN KILL YOU.
Mom: Drugs CAN kill you. You should NEVER do any.
Clara: It doesn’t look like you’re dying in this photo. You look kind of pleased actually.
Mom: Clara . . .
Even though she’s not here, I hear Mom’s warning tone, and I can’t stop the grin crossing my face. Oh, I miss them both so much.
Clara: Juju, what else do you have?
Me: Let me see . . .
Me: Oh! Here’s a pretty explicit one of Mom, Liz, and oh . . . a very hairy man . . . Jeez, Mom, why are you naked?
Mom: June!
I giggle, and Cactus gives me a sideways glance.
Clara: Wow, Mom, was this the threesome before Dad you told us about?
Me: Yeah, the one that “changed your life forever”?
Clara: The one that made you tattoo “Three is a magic number” on your upper right thigh?
Mom: GIRLS!!!
Mom: I miss you both so much.
Clara: I miss you.
Me: Me too.
Clara: Let's share a spliff the next time we see each other.
Mom: Clara!
I bring the spliff-photo to the kitchen, where I pin it on the fridge.
I watch them for another minute before I go to find something to wear when I clean up the patio furniture.
My own clothes are way too New Yorky. After some digging in Liz’s closet, I find denim overalls in my size that I throw on over my T-shirt.
They fit perfectly and are unexpectedly comfy.
Not only did I find furniture and photo boxes yesterday, but I also found an old rusty bike, so after I leave Cactus at Margot’s, I bike into town to buy some teak wood oil.
I’m not sure when the last time I rode a bike was, but as I whizz forward to the squeaking sound from the pedals, the sun kissing my arms and face, I think that I may have to do it more often.
The air is filled with the smell of newly cut grass, the ocean, and something sweet. Soft serve maybe.
I find the oil in the hardware store and get some great—unsolicited—tips from the owner, Dave. Apparently, I should clean the furniture with a pressure washer first. I want to ask him if I look like a person who owns a pressure washer, but I don’t.
When I’m back on the street, I hear someone yelling my name and see Iris smiling and waving at me with a surfboard under her arm. Next to her is Austin, who also has a surfboard tucked under his arm.
“June, how happy I am to run into you,” Iris says as I make my way up to them. Something squeezes my heart. I hug them both. “What are you up to?”
I lift the bucket of oil. “Renovating patio furniture.”
“Wow, aren’t you a handy woman.”
I laugh. “Hardly. But it’s nice to have a project.” So I can forget about a certain kiss. And the fact that Lydia still hasn’t called me.
“You don’t wanna join us for a ride?” Austin asks and nods at their boards.
“I need to get home to Cactus. Besides, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
Iris throws her hand. “Bullshit. You’d get the hang of it quickly. You have it in you, I can tell.”
I narrow my eyes skeptically at her. “Iris, have you seen me on a skateboard? I’m a disaster.”
“On a skateboard? No. But I’ve seen the shoes you’re wearing. If you can wiggle on them, then you can definitely wiggle on a surfboard.”
I huff a laugh.
“I’ll teach you,” Austin says with an easy smile. I study him for the first time ever. He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Kind of New York-ish. There’s nothing arrogant or complacent about him.
I smile politely back at him and then make myself ready to bike home.
“I hope . . . the waves are enormous today,” I say and have never felt less cool.
Iris beams at me. “Thank you. But they won’t, the wind is too weak.”
“That’s too bad.”
“We’ll make it work,” she says and shrugs. “But, jeez, I forgot to ask you something very important.”
I raise my eyebrows. That sounds alarming.
“It’s movie night on the beach on Saturday. Please, please, please come?”
“Movie night on the beach?” I echo.
“Yeah. They put sofas, armchairs, blankets—basically everything you need for a movie night—on the beach, and everyone is welcome. This Saturday, they’ll be showing Jaws.
Plus, you can buy popcorn and candy. It’s super cozy.
One of the best things about summer in Pearlband Beach.
You should definitely come to get the whole experience. ”
“Yeah, you should come,” Austin says and squints at me in the sun. A big part of me wants to say no, but another part of me doesn’t want to sit home alone with my thoughts, so . . .
“Yeah, sure, I’ll come.”
“Yay! I’ll text you the details.”
“Sounds perfect, I have to get going now, but it was lovely seeing you guys.”
“You too, June,” Iris says and waves at me.
“Looking forward to Saturday,” Austin shouts as I start pedaling my way down the street.
“You bought cookies?” Margot looks delighted as she clasps her hands together with sparkling eyes.
“Yes, I really want to thank you for all your help with Cactus.”
I was so glad when I found cronuts at the bakery because they’re one of the things I miss the most from New York. And I had a feeling Margot would love them, too. I mean, who wouldn’t?
“Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” she says and takes the bag from my hand. “I love watching her. Come in, dear, I just made some coffee.”
I was about to tell her I have fresh coffee waiting for us back at Liz’s place, but Margot is already in the kitchen, singing as she sets the table, so I close my mouth again and follow her inside. Cactus is lying in an armchair and gives me a look like You’re here? Are you stalking me?
This town is impossible with all its egos, believing everyone follows them. I roll my eyes in response.
I enjoy drinking coffee with Margot, though. She’s so incredibly sweet. And she absolutely loves cronuts—possibly even more than I do.
“What were these called again? And where did you find them?”
“Cronuts,” I say with a smile. “And I found them at the bakery.”
“Our local bakery?”
“Yes.”
She nods in what looks like disbelief. “And I who had condemned him a long time ago. You have no idea how dry his chocolate chip cookies are. I bet he uses bad chocolate, too. But these . . . wow.” She holds the last bite of her cronut in front of her and sighs happily.
I try to fight a laugh but fail. “I’m glad you liked them, Margot. I’ll buy you more the next time I pass him.”
“Aren’t you the sweetest! So, I’m figuring you’re going to the movie night on Saturday?”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, but how did you know? I was just invited.”
She gives me a knowing look. “Of course, I know you’re going. I’ll watch Cactus for you.”
I hesitate. “Um, are you sure? I was thinking I could bring her with me?”
Margot tilts her head in Cactus’s direction. “Darling, does she look like a dog who enjoys Jaws?”
“Um . . . no?”
“Exactly. That’s settled then.”
Apparently, it is.