When we got to the beach, Buddy parked on the sand and rolled up his pants like guys in commercials about expensive perfume and sweaters do. He kept a tight hold on my hand, and the sun grew hotter by the water. Salt stuck to our lips and the sand got between our fingers. (Sand is magic. It finds its way into everything. Like ghosts.)
And I kept silent because the waves wanted me to sleep. I could tell by the way they rolled up onto my toes. And the sun wanted me to sleep and petted at my head, though I was sure I was getting a sunburn on my nose.
I just wanted to walk with this good-looking boy. I didn’t need to know anything more about him and Tommie.
But that’s not how life works.
Because as a couple of surfers were catching an okay wave, and three little kids ran into the water, their momma following them, and as I was getting ready to forget everything about everything, Buddy said,
“I loved Tommie.”