16. 15 Years Ago
Chapter sixteen
Several of the most important moments of my life happened at the camp beach.
I always thought it was interesting how it didn’t look the way you’d expect a beach to look: pristine sand, big, blue waves.
Not our beach; instead of sand, we had rocks.
When splashed by water, they would shine in brilliant natural tones, ranging from tiny pink quartz to larger, sparkly black and gray sedimentary rocks.
When the tide went out and they dried off, the muted colors still danced in the light of the sun.
The pebbles lived in long bands, each one stretching anywhere from a foot to a mile in striations across the shoreline.
To the kids who took classes in the Science Center, they were a research laboratory.
To the kids who loved to swim, the stones were a hindrance, the only obstacle keeping them from running into the water with barefoot abandon.
But throughout my childhood, the gravel of the coast served a sole purpose, to hide the richest treasure of the Long Island Sound: beach glass.
I found my first piece of beach glass during my first summer at Sound Hollow.
Despite being a damp morning, swim class had not been canceled, so I donned my one-piece rainbow bathing suit and wrapped myself in a polka dot beach towel when the bugle blew for first period.
On the beach, I spread out my towel and waited for the lifeguards to decide if the water was too cold for us to swim in.
I absent-mindedly picked up fistfuls of pebbles, enjoying the way they felt as they ran through my fingers, until I noticed a flash of emerald green.
I dug through the small pile of rocks I’d just released and found its source, a triangle-shaped piece of frosted glass with soft, rounded edges.
I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger, appreciating its smooth texture.
One night, we agreed to meet at the cliff after the campers went to bed.
Junior counselors had a curfew of midnight, but they had to stay in their cabins with their kids until Taps.
After the bugle, the staff exodus began, everyone congregating at the Lodge.
A small handful of senior counselors were assigned to do cabin patrol on a rotating basis to keep watch over the kids.
Senior counselors didn’t have to report back to their cabins until one in the morning, when the camp director began the final round of night patrol.
I got to the cliff before Matt that night, since it was on girls’ side and the walk was much shorter for me than it was for him.
I waited for him in the gazebo. The cliff was a large expanse of lush green grass with a short picket fence keeping campers and staff from the edge, a steep drop of easily 200 feet blanketed by the thick greenery of the woods and further down, by a giant hill of ever-eroding sand.
To one side, there was a small cabin called Soundview that was used for the silk-screening class, and on the other side of the great lawn was a walkway that led to the beach stairs.
Matt arrived sweaty and out of breath from having jogged the whole way, certainly over a mile, probably closer to two. “Am I late?” he gasped.
I offered him a sip from my bottle of water. Grateful, he took a swig and handed it back to me. “You’re good. Take a breath.”
“Sorry. The kids were all hyped up. They wanted to sleep on the rec field.”
“For the meteor shower?”
“Yeah. Me and Scott told them they wouldn’t even be able to see the shooting stars from there because there’s too many lights. But they wouldn’t shut up about it.”
“My girls were pretty excited too, but not like that.”
“I think they thought it was like those movies, Don’t Look Up and Armageddon, where, like, the comets are going to come crashing into Earth or whatever.”
“Idiots.” I laughed.
“Anyway,” Matt continued, “I brought the stuff. I think I remembered everything.” He took off his backpack and set it on the bench along the gazebo wall. He pulled out a flashlight to inspect the contents of the bag. “Towels, snacks, iPod, travel speaker, and an extra sweatshirt for you.”
“You’re the best.” I draped my arms around his neck. He looked up and I kissed him. He closed his eyes. When I pulled away, he licked his lips.
“Mm,” he whispered. “Strawberry.”
We lingered there for a moment, foreheads touching, gazing into each other’s eyes. “You didn’t even ask me what I brought,” I said, breaking the silence.
“It better be something good if it’s important enough to interrupt this,” Matt joked.
“Forget it, you brat. Now I’m not telling you.” I smirked, pulling out of his embrace and swatting his chest.
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“Yup,” I retorted, grinning. I began walking towards the beach stairs.
“Hey, wait up!” Matt called out, gathering up his things. Matt turned on an oversized flashlight and jogged up beside me.
“You go first,” I said.
He moved in front of me as we began our descent down the beach stairs. He held the flashlight up so we could both see the steps in front of us. After 10 summers, I insisted that I had the pattern of stairs and landings memorized, but Matt wanted to keep me safe, and the steps could be tricky.
Once on the sand, Matt took out the two towels and laid them side by side far from the shore, avoiding the rocks, sticking to the area where there was still more sand than anything else.
He scrolled through his iPod, looking for a mix of songs we’d grown attached to over the past few summers.
Bands like Dashboard Confessional, Boys Like Girls, Cartel, Counting Crows, Paramore, and Taking Back Sunday filled the night air.
It was a playlist we’d been adding to over time, and he knew I listened to it nightly on a hand-me-down MP3 player he gave me when he got the iPod for his birthday.
The playlist always helped me fall asleep.
Matt plugged in his travel speaker and set it in the open backpack, trying not to get it covered in sand. He handed me a package of M&Ms.
“Thanks,” I said, ripping open the edge and pouring a few into my hand. I fed one to Matt.
He settled down onto the towel next to me and leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the night sky. “I hope we get lucky tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I laughed.
“Not like that! I mean with the meteor shower. I think we’ll be able to see it.”
“Sure, that’s what you meant,” I snickered, popping a handful of M&Ms into my mouth.
“Did you bring the almanac? What did it say?”
“I thought you said my almanac was nerdy. Now you want to see it?”
“I never said the almanac was nerdy. I said you were nerdy.”
“Wise guy.”
“I know you have it. Come on. I want to see what it says.”
I pulled open my drawstring backpack and pulled out the Farmer’s Almanac. The section titled “Viewing Tips” was dog-eared. I opened the book to the folded page and handed it to Matt.
“See?” I pointed. “Right here. It says, ‘Earthgrazers—meteors that begin low when the radiant is at the horizon and travel horizontally overhead instead of falling—will be visible beginning around 9:00 p.m. on August 12, but the prime viewing time for these fast and bright Perseids will be after 2:00 a.m. on August 13 when the moon sets. In dark areas, it may be possible to see over 100 Perseids each hour in the Northeast sky until dawn. The East Coast of North America and Western Europe are expected to see an exceptionally good show this year.’”
“Okay, well,” he began, closing the book and checking his watch. “It’s 9:45.” He gazed at the sky. “Nothing,” he snorted.
“Be patient. Look. We’ve got a great shot at seeing some. What’s that, over there?” I pointed.
“What? Where?”
“Right there!” I poked my finger into the night air, pointing at the spot in the sky where I meant for him to look.
“You mean the plane?”
“It’s not a plane!”
“The lights are blinking, Roberts. It’s a plane.”
I laughed and hung my head. “Shit.”
“My God. We’re in for quite an evening if this is any indication,” he joked. “I should’ve brought a deck of cards. We’re better off playing Gin Rummy.”
“You mean to tell me you can’t think of anything you’d rather do than play cards with me? What are you, a 90-year-old woman?”
“Far from it,” he assured me.
“Then, get over here.” I reached for him.
Matt crawled onto my towel and I leaned back, looking up at the sky, until the view was blocked by his face.
I closed my eyes as he brought his lips down to meet mine.
He laid his chest on top of me, and I could feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of our T-shirts.
Despite the light breeze, having him so close kept me warm.
I melted into his kiss, enjoying the security of his arms around me, the softness of his lower lip, the bits of scruff on his jawline.
My hands ran along his neck and down his shoulder blades, pausing to appreciate the muscles in his upper back.
Matt was propped up on an elbow with his free arm moving from my hair to the side of my ribcage and down to my hip.
It wasn’t long before his kisses became more intense, his tongue and hands searching.
I wavered between enjoyment and anxiety, my body wanting more of him but my brain working overtime, running scenarios that I’d considered over and over again but that never quite felt real until just this moment.
I pulled away from him. “I never showed you what I brought tonight,” I whispered into the darkness.
“What’s that?”
I reached my arm out, feeling the sand for my drawstring bag, still lying on my back. I felt the rope strap and pulled the bag close. Inside, my fingers fished around until I found the small square with the foil wrapper. I held it up, pushed it against Matt’s chest, and took a nervous breath.
He put his hand to mine, taking the condom. “Whoa,” he muttered. We froze. “Are you sure?”
“Are you?”
“I mean, yeah. I just—um—aren’t we supposed to, like, have a conversation about this first?”
“Do you want to? Have a conversation?”
“No.” He coughed. “I just feel like—I mean—it’s a big deal for you, right?”
“Yeah, obviously,” I stammered. “I would hope it’s a big deal for you, too. Isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“See? That’s just a double standard then,” I whispered, kissing his neck. “I don’t need to have a talk about it. Especially if you don’t.”
“No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard, I guess,” he murmured, closing his eyes, relishing my lips on his skin. “I wasn’t expecting—well, this.” He held up the small, shiny, purple packet.
“Do you love me?” I asked, nuzzling my face by his ear.
He pulled me in closer. “Do you have to ask?”
“So? Why shouldn’t we?”
He shook his head, closing his eyes and kissing me with all the passion of a 16-year-old boy whose biggest dream was about to come true.
It was slow and careful, awkward and sandier than I expected it would be.
We used the free towel as a makeshift blanket, covering ourselves on the off chance that someone showed up.
I kept my eyes closed for most of it, trying to feel something other than the emotion of holding on to this boy, my person, the one friend who I knew I could count on and who loved me so completely that only with him did I feel entirely at ease with myself.
The feeling was so overwhelming that I felt tears form at the corners of my eyes.
Matt noticed, pausing. “Oh my God, am I hurting you?”
“No.” I pulled him down to me. “I just love you. Don’t stop.”
He proceeded cautiously, my hands curling in fists on his back as I rhythmically pulled him as close to me as he could possibly be. When it was over, I opened my eyes slowly.
“Holy shit,” I said, my face twisting into a confused expression.
“I know, right?”
“No. Matt, look.” I nodded toward the sky. A streak of dark, neon green along the horizon blended into a deep plum above it, a cosmic arc merging into a sea of blackness. Everywhere, shooting stars rained across the sky. I couldn’t believe it.
Matt sat up and pulled his shorts on. “What is that? The Northern Lights?”
“I don’t think you can see them in this part of the country. I think that’s the Perseids.”
Nature’s fireworks show continued as I moved in front of Matt and sat between his legs, my back resting on his chest. In awe, no words passed between us for a long time.
Only the sound of small waves lapping the shore mixed with our playlist filled the damp air.
As each star flew by, I grew and more and more certain that I would never forget this night.
Finally, the sky’s majestic display began to fade. Matt checked his watch. 11:15. “We should go,” he whispered to me. “Don’t want to be late.”
Begrudgingly, I began to collect my things, pulling on the extra sweatshirt Matt brought for me, noticing the bag of M&Ms that had spilled out next to the towel. Matt buried the evidence of our night together deep in the sand.
“I’m just going to go rinse my hands,” he told me as I stood up to shake the sand off the towel and roll it up for him. Matt walked to the water and bent down. I kept my eyes on the fading brilliance above us.
“Taylor!” he called from the water’s edge.
“What?”
“Come here! You’ve got to see this!”
I jogged over to him, careful to tiptoe once I reached the rocks.
“What?” I said again.
He held out his hand, his palm facing up. The piece of beach glass was one of the most perfect ones I had ever seen, about the size of a quarter, soft and smooth, shaped like a tear drop.
Even in the dim light, it was unmistakably blue.
“Holy shit! Leave it to you to find a piece of blue at night. It’s beautiful.”
“Right?” He handed it to me. “For you.”
I stuffed it in my pocket gratefully and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Best night ever,” he whispered into my hair.
“Absolutely,” I agreed, as the last of the colors in the sky dissolved.