Some Girls: 01 - Re-Hash (1-2)

8/9/2019 Some Girls: 01 - Re-Hash (1-2)

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The thunderous pound from the drums creates a trampoline for the bass to jump off of,

springing out of the speakers in my Acura RSX and out the open windows onto interstate

95 south. They dont wait for the stability of the lead guitar to control them they jump

out the open windows into the unusually warm weather for June. The guitar kicks in and

goes after them, with the vocals following. My left foot taps against a footrest next to the

brake pedal while my right pushes harder on the accelerator.

With the sun gleaming through the windshield I reach for a sweaty cup of ice

coffee thats already half melted even though I bought it about 10 minutes ago. The

milky-tan coloring has been diluted with the ice water, and all the sugar has piled up on

the bottom of the cup like a buried treasure. I take a long, quenching swig from the straw

as we all bid farewell to Providence and cross into the Warwick border, en route of my

final destination for the summer Narragansett, Rhode Island.

Youll be living on the beach house alone this summer, my parents told me a

week ago. Youve shown us you can be mature, now show us you can live on your own.

The words left their mouths gift wrapped and tucked under a Christmas tree with my

name scrawled on top. I couldnt even believe they were saying all this. Im going to be

living on our beach house? In Narragansett? Alone? And theres no catch? There has to

be a catch theres always a catch. Whatd you think, I was born yesterday? No catch,

they assured my dumbfounded expression. I continued to doubt them until last night,

when they helped me pack up clothes and some other things (books, toiletries you get

the idea) and handed me the keys to the beach house. This, they explained, would teach

me responsibility. It would be an important life lesson. And, if anything, it gave me a

beach house to myself and my friends for the summer.

I dont know if my parents overlooked that or not. Theyre trusting me not to

destroy anything or get arrested, but what pair of parents gives their teenage son their

beach house for the summer unsupervised? I wont be living alone I have friends down

there that will want to take full advantage of the house, whether it be hanging out,

barbecues, or partying. And then theres

Beneath the fully exploding music my cell phone vibrates in the cup holder,

pleading for attention. I grab the twitching phone and place it to my ear. Hello?


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Are you here yet? an over-caffeinated voice complains. Ive been waiting all

day.

Brendan, I sigh patiently, glancing at the digital clock on my dashboard and

turning the stereo down with my free hand. It reads 11:47. Its not even noon yet and

Im willing to bet you didnt wake up until about 45 minutes ago.

You said youd be here by eleven.

I said I was leaving Boston at eleven, theres a difference.

A muffled groan accompanied by crunching. So where are you now?

Passing through Warwick on 95, I think by the airport.

Jeez dude, youre not even on route 4 yet?

I pause to take another sip of ice coffee. No man, its gonna be another hour

before Im there.

A dramatic gasp that sounds like someone hit him in the stomach. An hour? A

fucking hour? he repeats mortified.

Give or take with the traffic, yeah.

What am I supposed to do until you get here?

Ive gone from absent friend to entertainment guide. I dont know, take a walk to

the beach? Smoke some pot?

I dont have any pot.

Traces of disappointment sprinkle my impending arrival. Can we get some

later?

Well see I dont think itll be an issue. More crunching, then a gulping noise.

Are you excited to finally get back?

Does the pope shit in the woods?

Arent you Jewish?

Irrelevant. I gotta drive, Ill catch up with you a little later when I get there.

I hang up the phone and toss it back into the cup holder, next to my ice coffee.

Am I excited? His question keeps churning over in my mind. Of course Im excited I

love going to this place for the summer. I have a great job at a small bookstore, some of

my best friends live down there, and its become a clichd home away from home. There

are nights over the winter where Ill shut my eyes in my bed and try to let my nostrils


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catch a whiff of the salty sea breeze blowing throw screened windows on muggy nights.

The only noise on those nights is the wind chimes playing soft solos over the rhythm of

crashing waves. Occasionally the overhead fans will twirl and squeak soft hums in union

with the rest of the ensemble too.

And then theres the nights filled with laughter around a campfire. The cooler

nights with crackles jumping out of the fire pit and marshmallows roasting on the end of

those sticks (maybe this summer Ill actually learn what theyre called too) with stories,

cheap booze and the occasional joint being passed around the circle. We boys trying to

tell the most attention grabbing, humor injected stories we can muster from our past. The

girls sit and laugh, encouraging us with oohs and ahhs or egging us on by challenging

our manhood with sarcasm. If you look carefully you can see the fire reflecting off their

eyes as they dance with excitement from the night. And sometimes the stories are just

good enough and the charm is just right for one of them, and that girl will nudge closer

and closer to where youre sitting. The closer she gets the faster your heart pounds with

anticipation, skin curdling with excitement. And then

Another vibration from the phone jerks me back into reality. Without hesitating I

fling the phone back to my ear. What? What what what?

Are you here yet?

I look down at the clock. Its now 11:53.

* * *

Somewhere in South Kingstown after Route 4 becomes Route 1 I pull off the

traffic congested roads and park at The Village, an outdoor mall with a galore of local

establishments. Im running behind schedule thanks to the beach traffic but its one in the

afternoon and I havent eaten lunch yet. One of the rules my mother taught me was that I

need to always stop from the rat race and take time to eat lunch, otherwise Ill die of

starvation. It really doesnt sound profound until youre stomach is churning with hunger

pains, then it sounds like the Gospel.

I park the car and walk over to Calvittos, a pizza place with a bakery in it that

tastes like something out of the North End. The inexpensive prices probably makes


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visitors think that the food is second rate, but any local will tell you that this is more than

pasta sauce and store-packaged cheese on top of bulk-ordered dough. No component of

the pizza is left to chance everything from the dough to the toppings is carefully spread,

sprinkled, and placed with a certain precision that would make a surgeon jealous.

With two slices of pepperoni placed in a box I make a seat out of a curb corner

and wolf down the meal mercilessly. The first slice goes down in a matter of seconds, but

halfway through the second my heart wrenches and twists like a sponge thats being rung.

I try to focus on the pizza and not my rapid loss of appetite, but with each passing

moment becomes it harder and harder to chew or bring the warm crust to my mouth. Like

a parent I try to keep my eyes from wandering off, but I cant protect them and before I

know it theyve ventured away from the ground and are now affixed to the brunette

standing in front of Lickety Splits.

I didnt ever think Id run into her here, of all places. The last time we talked she

told me that she wasnt coming back this summer so I might as well get over it. There she

stands though with her sunglasses draped over her eyes (probably to hide the vacancy in

them where a soul should be) and her hand (claw) gripping a medium size cone of peanut

butter soft serve, her favorite flavor. I try to keep from looking directly at her in hopes

that she doesnt spot me and try to come over and try talking I need a conversation with

her like I need a prostate exam. The bitterness swelters my flesh with goosebumps, but

my knotted heart keeps asking all the damn questions I dont want to ask whos she

with? Whyd she come back when she said she wouldnt? Is she going to be around all

summer? Is she still seeing that asshole? Is she finally sorry? Can I forgive her? Do I

want to forgive her?

Through my shaded eyes I feel myself trying to steal another glance in her

direction, but shes gone almost as if Ive dreamt the whole thing. I breath a sigh of relief

maybe thats all it was, something my subconscious drummed up in a mean sort of

nightmare. Real or not shes gone now and my body becomes reaquanted with the real

world my skin feels the heat I seem to have forgotten was beating on it, and my hair is

being tossed around by the wind that I hadnt noticed was blowing. I throw the half-eaten

slice in the box to be thrown away and wipe my grease-stained lips and fingertips with a

white napkin, turning it transparent and orange. I toss the leftovers in the garbage and


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head over to Commons Convenience to pick up a few bottles of Diet Coke for the

remainder of the ride and maybe some half-off fireworks for when Brendan and I are

stoned later.

Theres still a lump in my throat from that damn dream though.

Documents

Some Girls: 01 - Re-Hash (1-2)