DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME
Chapter 17
by Donny Mumford
By eight o'clock Saturday morning Chubby and I have finished our breakfast and we're on our way to Stop and Shop. Everything is more expensive in Wildwood so we buy what we can here and bring it with us. Things like snacks, soft drinks, eggs, butter, cereal and whatever else catches our eye as we wheel the shopping cart up and down the aisles. The last thing we put in the cart is a ten pound bag of ice. On vacation we normally have a couple of dinners at the rented condo, and then go out to eat the other nights.
Perishable food we bought at Stop & Shop goes into a cooler covered with ice. The cooler goes in my mom's Volvo station wagon along with the nonperishable items. When we've done that, Chubby mumbles, "Okay, let's get the two cases of beer now. They're sitting in the foyer at my place."
We get the beer and put it in the back of the station wagon along with everything else we can fit in there. I'm reading from the computer list of things we want to bring with us, and one by one we load the items in either the station wagon or our Jeep. The back seat of the station wagon is left empty for the moms' personal things. Stuff for our Jeep includes our clothes and the electronics, like my Xbox 360 and two wireless controllers, lap tops, headphones, CD player, CDs, and a portable TV for our room. When we think we're done loading everything Chubby spots the beach chairs and umbrella left in the garage. I mutter, "Balls," and we rearrange everything in the back of the station wagon so we can fit the chairs and umbrella in there too.
Chubby asks, "That's gotta be everything, right?" I shrug, "We're probably forgetting something. We always do, but we've packed the most important stuff."
This is not the fun part of a vacation, but it's gotta be done and we've worked up a sweat doing it. We shower, put on shorts and a t-shirt then meet at the Jeep with me carrying my toiletry kit that now includes a razor and shaving creme. Tossing the satchel in the back of the Jeep we light a cigarette to share while trying to think of anything important that we've forgetting, then remember the rental agreement. Jesus! That's kind of important. Chubby goes up to his condo to get it and I get a football from the storage area and toss it in the back of the Jeep. We might want to throw it around on the beach. Chubby puts the rental papers in the glove compartment, and mumbles, "The hell with whatever we've forgotten, let's go."
I drive west onto route 9 and stay on it through Framingham until connecting with I-90W, which is the Mass Pike. We've got the radio on loud 'cause we're not in the mood for a lot of talking. We get off the Mass Pike at exit 9 and take I-84W, staying on it until it connects with CT-15 S, which I take until we connect with I-95 south. So far it's much the same route we took on our Florida trip to Fort Lauderdale. Before going up the ramp for I-95 though, we stop for lunch at a Wendy's. The restaurant is conveniently located right next to a Mobile station. After eating we fill the tank with gas and Chubby takes over the driving. We get on I-95 and stay on it until it connects with the New Jersey Turnpike, which eventually connects with the Garden State Parkway. Chubby finally gets off the parkway at the exit for NJ-147, and that takes us into Wildwood. The trip took a little over six hours. The moms will make the same trip in closer to seven hours, and they won't stop for lunch like we did. They'll have lunch at home and should arrive here in time for a late cocktail hour. I don't know when the twin fiancés will arrive, but we're guessing they'll get here about the same time the moms do. Those two guys are staying at a motel a block away from our place. A three or four bedroom condos, like we're staying in, is much too big and expensive for just two people.
Okay, so far vacation sucks, but when the moms arrive and we unload the Volvo, then the negative stuff is totally done with until next Saturday when we do everything all over again. Vacation rentals in Wildwood have a check-in time of two o'clock, and it's almost four o'clock now, so I ask Chubby, "Do you remember how to get to the rental office?" He shakes his head, "Not really," so I program the address into the GPS. In fifteen minutes we're there. Lots of traffic on Saturdays because hundreds, maybe thousands of families are doing the same thing we're doing at about the same time. Chubby parks outside the rental office and we sit here looking at each other, neither of us wanting to deal with the rental people. I finally mumble, "Okay, I'll get the keys." Inside the office there's a deeply tanned woman at the desk dealing with a couple who have two teenage boys sitting in the waiting room seats. Neither boy is worth a second look, so I lean against the wall waiting my turn.
It's not moving along very quickly, but the people ahead of me finally leave and I walk up to the desk. The deeply tanned lady asks, "Do you have your paper work?" I hand her the rental agreement that's paid in full as of last February. Unnecessarily, I mumble, "I'm picking up the keys for this condo." She says, "Some ID, please." As I hold out my license the woman's distracted by a tow-headed girl, about sixteen or seventeen years old, who comes in from the back, snottily saying, "Are you satisfied now, Mother? I lathered myself with that damned sun screen lotion and now I'm sticky and yucky! I'm going out with Malinda now so I need the car keys." The girl's face and shoulders are sunburned a shiny bright red. The mother, says, "No, you're not going out, April. You should have put the sun screen on this morning like I told you to."
The front door of the rental office opens with a husband and wife coming in. The woman stand too closely behind me so I glance back seeing an overweight woman who looks back at me defiantly. What the fuck? Her husband's a thin tall man with a seriously receding hairline and he's holding a red-bordered rental agreement like the one I just gave the lady. Holding hands with the lady is a whining four or five year old boy. Mother is telling him in a too-loud voice, "We'll get our key, hopefully quickly, so we can finally get to our summer home and you can have your nappy-poo." Why is this bitch talking so loudly? Is her kid hard of hearing? Then she adds, "If this nice young man will hurry up and get his key we can begin having fun." The kid yells, "With Teddy!" The woman's probably speaking loudly for our benefit, not her kid's. She's informing all concerned that it's more important for her to quickly get her keys than it is for unimportant me to get mine. After all I don't have a kid who needs his nappy-poo.
The tow-haired sunburned girl openly sneers at the woman, then mocks her mother, mimicking the last thing she said, "Like I told you to." The real estate woman turns around and says to her daughter, "You're too sunburned to be outside!" The girl yells, "Oh for god sake, don't patronize me mother! I know to stay out of the damned sun! Where are the car keys?" Now the woman's slowly looking through a drawer in her desk for my keys, clearly frustrated, so I put my license away. She finds the keys and hands them to me along with a paper, telling me, "This is a list of 'dos and don'ts" regarding your rental unit. Please read it and then sign here," as she points unnecessarily to where it says, 'Signature'.
While I'm purposely taking my time looking at the list, not really reading it, the sunburned girl says, "I'm leaving,; give me the damn keys, Mother!" Behind me the husband and wife are shuffling there feet doing impatient sighs, then the woman behind me, in a stage whisper, says, "We're never dealing with this real estate office again. These people..." and she lets out an exasperated noisy exhale. Glancing back, I see the four year old boy at the coffee table in front of the chairs these people should be sitting in.
He's sucking his thumb while silently and deliberately pushing the magazines off the table. One by one he slides them over to the edge and then off the coffee table onto the floor. To further annoy the lady who's standing too closely behind me, I point to a random line on the list, asking the lady behind the desk, "What's this mean?" The rental lady looks at the random line I'm pointing at, then shrugs, saying, "It means just what it says: don't leave the gas burners on when you're not using the cook top." I go, "Yeah, that's what I thought it meant." More exasperated deep breathing behind me.
The tow-haired bratty teenager is now going through her mother's purse.
The mother hops up off her chair and they have a tug of war with the purse.
The woman behind me says, "Would you hurry up, please! We have a young child with us." A young child she's not paying any attention to. I almost blurt out a laugh at her frustration, then notice where I'm supposed to sign the rental agreement: it reads, Signature of adult twenty-five and older. The mother's got the purse, but her daughter has the car keys. I sign the form and the lady behind me nudges me out of the way, telling her husband, "Roy, give me the damn rental form. I'll take care of this." The rental lady is royally pissed-off at her daughter, but forces a smile, saying to me through clenched teeth, "I hope you enjoy your week. The weather forecast is good for the entire week." I pretend to stumble, as if it's the fault of the officious and impatient women who's next to me now, as I mumble, "Thank you,"
then, "Um, excuse me!" to the pushy lady who's holding the rental form towards the real estate lady. As I'm leaving, the snotty girl comes out with me. On the steps of the rental office, she says to me, "You're smoking-hot and sexy! Wanna party?" Smiling, I ask, "Do you know what the word 'melanoma' means?" She wiggles her body, saying, "No, why don't you tell me?" The rental woman comes out the door as I'm getting in the Jeep. I hear her yell at her daughter, "Don't you ever fucking..." and that's all I hear as I slam the passenger door. Looking through the glass door of the real estate office I see the couple inside fuming-mad and yelling at each other. They're ignoring the boy who's now standing on the coffee table, his head back wailing away. Seems like a nice family.
Chubby's surprised, "They gave you the keys just like that?" I go, "Yeah, why?" and he laughs, "Bro, last year I had to go through all kinds of shit because I wasn't twenty-one signing for the keys." I shrug, "It's even worse with this real estate office. You need to be twenty-five." He's like, "She thought you were twenty-five? Ya gotta be shitting me!" I go, "Oh well, no, the rental lady was a bit distracted and never checked my driver's license," and I tell him about it. He goes, "Melanoma and a mother who thinks she's special because she has a child. Sweet!" We drives away from the rental office with me reading out-loud the directions to our condo from the receipt, but we soon realize we've been driving in circles. I say, "These directions blow," and then we both go, "Duh!" and I load the address into the GPS, muttering, "Why didn't we do this in the first place?"
We're idling outside our rental property in less then ten minutes. It's a newly renovated two story house with a condo on each floor. It's in a block of similar houses. We're the first house on the end, and we have a driveway this year. It's a gravel driveway next to the house. We look at each other, Chubby shrugs, and drives up the driveway to the back door. I go, "We're on the second floor like last year." This isn't the same place as last year's condo, but it's almost identical. There are two door in front; one for each floor's condo. In addition there's back doors that should be used when coming in from the beach. Outside steps lead to our second floor condo's deck. Next to the steps at the back of the condo is a partially enclosed outdoor shower, and next to that there's a hose attached to a spigot with a sign urging renters to: 'Please wash sand off before going inside'.
We take a deep breath, relieved we're finally here, then get out of the Jeep and start lugging everything from the Jeep up the stairs to the deck, and then into the condo through French doors off they deck. Inside the place looks brand new although we know the renovation was done the summer before last. We crank up the AC and while muttering to ourselves, make four trips from the Jeep up and down the stairs. Sweating, we plop our asses on captain's deck chairs. It's almost ninety degrees today, but up here on the deck there's a nice ocean breeze. Chubby says, "Why didn't we think to bring one of the beer cases with us?" I shrug, mumbling, "We're dumb, I guess." From our deck we can partially see the end of the boardwalk two blocks to our left, with stores on both sides of the street leading to it. Lighting a cigarette, Chubby mutters, "Are we having fun yet?" I snort a laugh, "It's like this every year, Chub. Actually it's better than it used to be. Remember before we bought the Jeep we were all crowded into the Volvo with the mom's taking turns driving at below the speed limit?" He goes, "Oh yeah, and the AC never worked so the windows were down with gas fumes and hot humid air noisily blowing in on us for seven hours." I nod, "And all the stuff we brought with us was packed all around us. This was fun compared to that." He passes me the cigarette, saying, "Yeah, when you put it that way, wheeee yippee, this was fun!" I chuckle, "Not that much fun, but by comparison this morning was a pleasant experience."
Chubby says, "Fuck it anyway, I'm feeling good now. Most of the 'shit' part of our vacation is done." I mumble, "Yeah, it's weird but going on vacation is a lot more work than staying home. It's been a relocation more than a vacation so far, but worth all the trouble now that we're here." Looking around I mostly see condos like ours packed close together with eight foot alleys in back and between each building. We have a partial ocean view past the boardwalk, and the ocean is the whole point of vacationing here. That and the beach and boardwalk. We're too old to pull the high-jinxes and goofing around on the boardwalk we did as teenagers, although the boardwalk's still a lot of fun. People of all ages enjoy walking on it next to the ocean.
Then there's the amusement arcades with thrill rides that are still thrilling, and the water parks are still fun for all ages. I'm not sure you ever become so old you can't enjoy some aspects of the being at the shore.
That's especially true if you're a fan of 'people-watching' like I am...
specialized people watching in my case consisting of watching for cute young guys mostly.
Our deck is made from composite deck boards and railings. The floor is gray with artificial wood grain and the railings are bright white with a fat fancy molded railing every six feet. There's no danger of getting a splinter walking bare foot out here. Looking to my right all I see are decks pretty much identical to ours. The deck's are a good size at about twenty feet by twenty feet. There's a fairly new gas grill at the front of our deck, as well as outdoor furniture including a round table with a large umbrella in the middle and six chairs around it. The table is on the street side of the deck and there are four captain chairs, two of which Chubby and I are sitting, on this side of the deck. Looking straight ahead, no more than thirty feet from the end of our deck, is the front of a deck for the house across the way that looks like our deck. Cookie-cutter decks. The moms paid extra for this end unit, bless their little hearts. A sidewalk is separated from us by six foot hedges, then the street which is busy with traffic. That's not ideal, but few things are perfect.
Street parking is always a problem, but we've got the driveway this year so parking won't be the problem it was last year. Of course, if the people renting the downstairs condo park their car behind ours we'll need to ask them nicely to move it should we want to drive somewhere, like to a restaurant. We'll deal with that when the time comes. For now two girls just walked out on a deck facing ours, two condos over. They both have a drink of some kind in their hands. Chubby glances over at them, then gets up and walks to the front of our deck calling over to the girls, "Hey, you wouldn't have a spare beverage or two, would ya?" Oh balls! Why does he do that? One of the girls walks to the front of her deck, calling back, "Why don't you and your brother c'mon over and find out." Chubby goes, "How'd ya know we're brothers?" The girl is nice looking with a blond ponytail on the side of her head. Maybe, since it's on the side, you don't call it a ponytail. I don't know. Chubby tells me, "Let's check it out, bro." I don't want to, but for Chubby, I say, "Sure," and we go down the outside stairs to the alley.
As we walk towards their condo my outlook brightens-up seeing a boy joining the two girls on the deck. He has blond hair too, so maybe he's Ponytail's brother. We go up the outdoor steps to their deck with Chubby leading the way. At the top he again asks ponytail-girl, "How'd you know we're brothers? Are you a haruspex, by any chance?" He's grinning while saying that, making it sound naughty. Both girls laugh, then the other girl asks, "What's a haruspex?" Ignoring that, Chubby says, "I'm Jeff and this is my awesome looking brother, Dylan." Ponytail says, "Well he is awesomely cute, Jeff, but then so are you. I guessed you were brothers because you kinda look alike." The other girl points to Ponytail, saying, "She's Jessica and that's her brother, Charlie. I'm Jessica's friend, Ellie. Now what the fuck's a haruspex? It sounds sexy." Girls like to say 'fuck'.
When introduced Charlie gave us a little wave of his hand without looking up, acting bored, or maybe he's the shy type. He's at least eighteen and probably older. Like his sister, Charlie has long blond pretty hair. His is straight for maybe four inches, then it gets real curly the bottom four inches and it looks really cool on him. He's cute with a sexy scraggily, relatively recent beard here and there on his face. Ellie is sexy looking with big jugs, assuming you're into that sort of thing. She's swarthy complected with dark hair cut almost as short as a guy's, and combed like a guy's too, but somehow she doesn't look 'butch' at all. Pretty face with subtle make-up touches and thinly plucked eyebrows. Jessica, the ponytail girl, is fair complected and cute like her brother.
Chubby hops up on the railing, holding onto it with a hand on either side of him, and with that mischievous smile of his, he goes, "So you don't know what a haruspex is, huh?" Ellie, says, "Of course we don't. What the fuck is it?" He goes, "It's not sexy unfortunately. It's a person who's, um, clairvoyant, a mental telepathist, psychic, that sort of thing." Charlie says in a monotone, "Bullshit alert," and Jessica says, "My brother doesn't believe you, Jeff." Ellie has her smart phone out, asking, "How do you spell that word?" Chubby tells her and she taps her cellphone, then holds it out for Charlie to see. He reads it, shrugs, and mumbles to Chubby, "Way to be, dude."
Smirking, Chubby asks, "What do you guys have in those plastic cups?"
Ellie walks over to Chubby, who's still sitting on the railing looking cool.
With one hand rubbing his knee, Ellie offers him her cup and Chubby takes a sip, then says, "Strawberry daiquiri." She says, "Yeah, ya want one?" Chubby goes, "Sure." Jessica, who's next to me, runs her fingers through my short hair, asking, "How 'bout you, cutie?" I shrug, "I'll try one." Charlie quietly mumbles, "Guess I'll make another pitcher," and he goes inside while the rest of us do the thing you do with people you've just met; we start asking where do you go to college? Where ya from? blah, blah, blah. Chubby does the talking for us while Jessica and her friend, Ellie, take turns answering and asking questions. Jessica occasionally bumps the side of her hip against mine, then grins at me. I assume she saw Ellie come-on to Chubby and she figures she'll take the leftover, moi. Ya know, most everyone wants a 'vacation' boyfriend or girlfriend. In that regard Jessica has a surprise coming to her.
The girls are both twenty-one and have been best friend since grade school. They live in Delaware and go to a college in New York State I never heard of. Charlie had his twentieth birthday yesterday and he going into his sophomore year at Penn State University. That's pretty much all the information I remember, although I'll bet Chubby recalls a lot more of what the girls had to say than I do. After a while we hear the blender running and a minute later Charlie comes out with a pitcher of daiquiris in one hand and three empty plastic cups in the other. He sets the pitcher on the table, a table identical to ours, and mumbles, "Help yourself," as he pours himself a cup of icy, frothy red strawberry daiquiri. The outside of his cup immediately forms a frosty glaze. Chubby hops off the railing and takes the pitcher, saying, "Thanks, Charlie." He pours a cup and passes it to me, then pours one for himself, asking, "Do you girls need a refill?" They both hold out their cups and Chubby finishes off the pitcher pouring equal amounts in each cup.
The daiquiri is shockingly cold, but it taste good. It's very sweet. For something to say to Charlie, I ask him, "What's the liquor in daiquiris?"
He's smelling the back of his hand, but pulls his hand away when he realizes I'm looking at him, and mutters, "Rum, of course," without looking at me.
Jessica says, "My brother makes the best strawberry daiquiris ever! Tell them everything you put in it, Charlie." He frowns and shrugs, looking at the floor muttering, "It's just a fucking recipe I got online. Three cups crushed ice, a quarter cup of sugar, a big glob of frozen strawberries, some lime and lemon juice, half a cup of rum and a couple ounces of Sprite. Blend the shit out of it with the crushed ice and that's it." Chubby says, "Jesus! I thought a daiquiri was just strawberry juice, ice, and rum." We talk about that until Chubby asks, "Anybody mind if I smoke?" Charlie, staring at his cup, quietly asks, "Ya got a joint?" and Chubby holds up a pack of Marlboro Lights. Ellie says, "Oh goodie, let me have one, Jeff." Ellie, Chubby, and I light cigarettes while Charlie goes inside, then comes out smoking a joint that he and his sister share.
After the joint Charlie makes another batch of daiquiris while Jessica and Ellie talk me and Chubby into meeting them on the boardwalk tonight.
Jessica puts her arm around my waist, jokingly saying, "I'll be safe with you, won't I, Dylan?" I say, "Of course, but full disclosure, just so ya know, I'm gay." She chuckles for a second, then goes, "Seriously? You're serious?"
and Chubby says, "Yeah, my bro's gay." Jessica yells, "Charlie! This is your lucky day... maybe." He comes out looking annoyed, "What the fuck ya yelling about now, sister?" She goes, "Dylan's gay," and Charlie's eyebrows go up as he asks, "Seriously?" I snort out a laugh, "Why does everyone say 'seriously' like it's shocking that I'm gay?" Jessica says, "Because you're not putting out any gay vibes, hottie." Well, that's the opposite of what I've been told by a number of guys, but I keep that to myself. Ellie says, "Jesse, I'll share Jeff with you." Huh. I think Jesse is a much cuter name than Jessica. That name sounds like it belongs to someone from Wyoming, or someplace like that.
We hang-out on Jesse's deck through a third batch of daiquiris, smoking and talking about college, our home towns, and what's hot in Wildwood. The fact I'm gay isn't mentioned again. I assume Charlie's gay too although no one actually says as much. Then a handsome man, who I'm guessing is their father, pokes his head out the door, saying, "We'll be going out to dinner in half an hour or so. If you need to change or something, you'll need to do it pretty quickly." He gives Chubby and me a quick glance, and he's gone.
Moody Charlie mumbles, "I'm not changing, fuck that," and Ellie asks Jesse, "Should we change?" As they debate that, I see Tris come out the French doors to our deck with a glass in her hand, so I check my wristwatch; it's ten minutes to seven. Time flies when you're drinking strawberry daiquiris. I go, "The moms are here, Chubby," he nods, and Ellie asks, "What's 'Chubby' a reference to?" Chubby goes, "Oh, as a toddler Dylan couldn't say Jeff, so he has always called me by my middle name," and everyone chuckles except Charlie, who's mumbling, "Bullshit alert."
Chubby drains the last of his drink, saying, "We gotta unload our moms' car now. We'll look for you guys at the Mariner's Pier around nine-thirty."
He's saying that to Jesse and Ellie mostly. I glance over at Charlie, who's looking down and smelling the back of his hand again. When we're saying goodbye Charlie's inside so it's unclear if he'll join us at the pier. I hope he does. So far he's not been outgoing at all, and he's had very little to say. It's not that he's been unfriendly necessarily, it might be he's just not interested, or he's bored, shy, or both. He did make us three batches of drinks though, and his eyebrows went up when his sister told him I'm gay.
So, there's that.
As Chubby and I approach our driveway I see there's now a car parked behind ours, and the Volvo's parked behind the second car. We go upstairs to say hi to the moms. Hugs and kisses, then Tris talks fast telling us about the tractor trailer driver that was tailgating them and blowing its horn on the Garden State Parkway. I try not to grin, but the moms drive very defensively and much too slowly. Chubby asks, "Mom, why didn't you get out of the lane and let the ass-wipe pass?" She goes, "We were in the middle lane where we're suppose to be, and we were driving the speed limit." We discuss that for a minute or so, commiserating with Tris and berating the tractor trailer driver, the asshole. I don't think trucks are allowed in the passing lane so the truck driver had to be super frustrated being stuck behind Tris.
She obviously should have gotten into the merging lane and let the truck pass her, but the moms have this thing about obeying the law, including speed limits, and they're stubborn about it. I go, "Anyway, you made it here safely," and Chubby goes, "Yes, that's the important part, now can we have the Volvo key? Dylan and I will unpack the car." My mom says, "Tris and I already unpacked it, Jeffrey. That is except for the stuff we'll take to the beach tomorrow." Chubby and I hug the moms again, mumbling, "You guys didn't need to do that, but it was awesomely nice of you."
To be sociable, Chubby gets him and me a barely chilled beer so we can keep the moms company while they drink their gin and tonics. They tell us their fiancés will be arriving tomorrow and that they'll be taking us out for a Sunday night dinner. We decide to eat here tonight because the moms are a little rattled after the nightmarish drive. After holding out as long as she can, Tris says, "The same smoking rules as last year, right boys? Dee and I like to have an occasional cigarette when we're on vacation." Chubby says, "So do my brother and I." We all light up,; chuckling a little because, of course, we all know we all smoke year round, but this mutual deception pleases the moms for some reason. See, I'm not the only one who rationalizes in this family. Chubby and I enjoy talking with the moms, and doing a little teasing with them too, mostly because they have awesome senses of humor, and they obviously enjoy that we're spending time with them. It's heartwarming for me seeing them happy.
We all agree the dinner tonight will be Stop & Shop's baby-back ribs cooked on the grill first and then they'll finish cooking in the oven until tender. We'll serve them with a sticky sweet barbecue sauce. There will be a touch of heat in the barbecue sauce compliments of Frank's Hot Sauce. French fries and a salad will complete the simple meal. Chubby and I start on that while the moms open a bottle of Mondavi Pinot Noir, explaining that while it's high in acidity, it's lower in alcohol content than most red wines.
Tris says, "It's a good wine to drink if you're planning on having a few glasses. Dee and I will probably have some after dinner too." There's no 'probably' about it, if I know the moms, but I hope they have Zantac tablets available.
To drink with our dinner, Chubby and I make iced tea for ourselves because we're feeling the effects of the daiquiris and beers we've imbibed. We hang out with our moms after dinner nursing beers until nine-fifteen. Then, feeling slightly 'high', we walk the two blocks to the boardwalk laughing at some of the things our moms said. Going up the ramp to the boardwalk, I mumble, "Um, assuming we hook up with Jesse and Ellie at Mariner Pier, are we supposed to pay for their rides?" He goes, "Nah, this isn't a date, Dylan.
Hey, are you interested in Charlie at all?" I shrug, "Don't know yet, although he's sure good looking. Did you get the impression he's gay?" He squeezes the back of my neck, grinning, "Yeah, I got that impression, didn't you?" I shrug, grinning back at him, muttering, "I don't know."
This section of the boardwalk is like twenty feet up off the beach while at others spots it's almost level with the beach. The width of the beach varies, but most places its maybe a hundred yards wide from the boardwalk to the ocean. We're walking close to the railing on the beach side of the boardwalk with me gazing out at the endless sea that's lit tonight by the light of a full moon hanging in the sky way out there. The waves splash endlessly on the shore line before pulling back and coming in again, over and over forever, like motion is the law of life.
We got on the boardwalk at the end where it's at its narrowest and where there aren't many stores, but shortly there begins thirty-eight blocks of stores, shops, water parks, eateries of all kinds, and three amusement piers with over one hundred and fifty different rides. Its two miles of unique sights and sounds with the salty sea smell of the ocean mingling with smells from hundreds of shops cooking all kinds of treats to eat. The boardwalk is noise and bright lights with too many people of all ages, cultures, religions, color and race... it's almost sensory overload at first. It's at its most crowded at night from six o'clock until it shuts down some time after midnight, but from early morning on there are always people walking the boards. At this time of night it's a common sight to see and hear bickering between husband and wives with over-tired children who are too young to be up this late. Cranky toddlers in strollers, their parents' nerves on edge after a day and night pandering to their ungrateful kids every wish. Generally speaking people walk up the boardwalk on the beach side and down on the side near all the stores, but there's also a great deal of movement from one side to the other. It's borderline chaos at times, especially at the center where some people are walking in one direction and some in the other direction. Somehow it all works out okay though. There's some bumping but mostly people avoid colliding with one another.
The Mariner's Pier is located in the middle of the two mile long boardwalk. Chubby says, "All these people, Dylan, and we don't know any of them." I mumble, "How many people do you suppose you know personally? I mean counting acquaintances." The factoid king, says, "Well that's debatable. I've read surveys that claim the average middle aged person knows as many as six hundred people, while other surveys claim the number's half that." As Chubby's talking I finally spot a cute guy who's unfortunately holding hands with a cute girl. The first cute guy tonight and he's on the other team. I mumble, "I definitely don't know six hundred people, do you?" He goes, "Nah, but then we're not middle aged yet. Anyway, even if we did know six hundred people there's still quite a few we wouldn't know considering there's over seven billion people living somewhere on earth right now." I go, "Damn! We're not real popular, are we?" Chubby goes, "Since the beginning of humanity over one hundred billion humans have been alive and died." I go, "Huh!" How does he know all this random information I wonder? >From my boy-watching while walking the mile to Mariner's Pier I came up with only four cute guys. That's an embarrassingly low number considering the number of people I've past in the last twenty minutes. Anyway, at the entrance to the pier we find Jesse and Ellie talking with two other girls about our age. Where the fuck is Charlie though, or any cute guy for that matter. We walk up to the girls with Chubby's all smiles, saying, "Girls, I find your lack of nudity disturbing." Ellie laughs, then says, "Hi Jeff, ya know what Jessica said behind your back?" Chubby goes, "Um, I've got a nice ass?" She laughs again, "No, but you do have a nice ass." As they exchange banter I'm sort of standing a little bit behind Chubby looking for Charlie, and not seeing him. I'd like to, but don't ask his sister if her brother is coming out tonight.
Jesse's introducing the two new girls to Chubby and then she says, "Dylan, stop hiding behind your brother. Get over here." I blush a little taking a few steps to be next to Chubby, mumbling irritably, "I'm not hiding."
Jesse asks the two new girls, "Isn't he adorable?" A tall, big shouldered girl, whose name I've already forgotten, says, "Yeah, but aren't you robbing the cradle again, Jesse?" Chubby says, "What the fuck ya talking about? Dylan will be twenty-one in like three days." There's some general discussion about looking youthful. After a few minutes, the new girls, whatever their names are, leave and the four of us discuss going on the pier. We decide not to spend $45 each for a wrist band that entitles us to go on all the rides the rest of the night, and instead buy tokens for individual rides. Its $5 a ride so the all-night pass is what I'd go for if it was just Chubby and me.
There's a line we need to wait in for each ride. Our plan is to only go on the four best rides: Sea Serpent, Fly The Great Nor'Easter, The Great White, and Maelstrom. Each is a variation of a roller coaster, some upside down, some more around and around than up and down. They're all fast enough to take your breath away. Thrill rides are awesome! During the longish wait for each one Jesse mostly talks with me. She's very cool for a girl. Chubby and Ellie are whispering and giggling; probably deciding if they want to pursue a deeper relationship for the week, meaning one that includes sex I'd imagine. Jesse and I don't have that concern, although she never actually mentions me being gay. She's very nice and funny too. When I feel comfortable enough with her I let some of my funnier observations of life be known, and she has a really nice laugh. It's easy to like someone who laughs at your jokes. When we've had enough thrills we leave the pier and buy soft serve ice cream cones eating them while leaning on the railing looking out at the ocean and talking about eternity.
Chubby and Ellie get into some touching and goofing around, while Jesse and I do not. She's easy to talk to though and I'm having a surprisingly good time. Later we're at one of those cheesy carnival games where you shoot water at a duck to see if your duck beats the other five in a race to the finish line. I lose and Chubby tries it, saying, "This is easy. I'm gonna win a stuffed animal for you, Ellie." As he's doing that Charlie comes up grinning and wraps his arms around his sister, Jessica, from behind. She goes, "Charlie! Where ya been all night?" He says, "Here and there. What have you guys been up to?" then he looks right at me, quietly saying, "Hi, Dylan." I didn't think he'd even remember my name. It's the first time he's used it since we were introduced this afternoon and it catches me off guard. I mumble, "Yo, um, hi." Charlie's got a friend with him. A guy about Chubby's height, but heavier. His hair is the color of Sonny's, which is to say, orange. It's not thick hair though, and it's cut in a longish flat top. His pink scalp shows in between each hair. The guy's got a fleshy face with chipmunk cheeks and bright blue eyes. Jessica playfully punches this guy's arm, saying, "Ronny, whassup?" Ronny grins and says, "You know what gets up whenever I see you, Jesse." She goes, "Oh, how clever," then introduces me to him, "Dylan, this is our neighbor, Ronny Tarleckie. He's our neighborhood's Polish horn-job." I thought she was going to say, 'Polish ham'. I don't know what to make of the 'Polish horn-job', but I bump fist with him, muttering, "How ya doing?" He nods his head, then asks Charlie, "Are we gonna ride the Sea Serpent or are you going to go all queer on me and punk out on me again, pussy?" What an ginormice asshole this guy is! Charlie frowns, then mumbles to us, "See you guys later," and the two of them head for Mariner's Pier. That was fast, but I noticed another cute thing about Charlie. His two front teeth are a little bit longer than the others and it gives him a very boyish appearance when he grins like he did hugging his sister. He also has cute dimples. So fuck, what's he doing with crude Ronny? No way they're boyfriends. With the back of my hand to my nose, I'm watching Charlie walk away. Jesse says, "Charlie does that too." My hand comes down, as I say, "Huh? Does what?" She grins and puts the back of her hand to her nose. She's as cute as Charlie. I say, "Oh, that. Yeah, it's a stupid habit," and she says, "Charlie claims he does it because he smells good." I go, "Oh, really? Um, I don't know why I do it." Feeling self -conscious, I do a fake cough, then ask, "Why'd you call Charlie's friend the Polish horn-job?" She's the touchy type, squeezing my arm, saying, "He thinks he's God's gift to women." I go, "Him?" and she laughs, mumbling, "Go figure, huh." Chubby yells, "This game is rigged!" as a ten years old girl beats him in the water race. Then Ellie says, "I need a slice of Mac's pizza,"
and the four of us drift down the boards looking for one of the ubiquitous Mac's pizza shops along the two mile stretch of boardwalk.
I ask Jesse, "I guess Ronny is Charlie's best bud from the neighborhood, huh?" She frowns, "Not hardly. It's a coincidence Ronny's family is here the same two weeks we're here. Charlie doesn't even like Ronny, but he's too polite to brush him off. They went to the same high school at the same time, but didn't hang-out together at all. Ronny calls Charlie his 'fag friend'." I go, "What an asshole!" and she takes my hand as we walk, saying, "Yeah, that is an insightful appraisal of Ronny Tarleckie. He's always been a bully too." I can't think of a way to bring up the subject of Charlie again, so I don't. After we all eat a slice of pizza and have a cup of birch beer, we walk the girls back to our condos with my hand feeling sweaty in Jesse's hand. Why the fuck is she holding my hand in the first place? We say goodnight to the girls with both of them kissing us on the cheek. Chubby says, "You can do better than that, Ellie," and he gives her a ten second kiss on the mouth and it looks like some tongue action too. I look away, then Jesse and I roll our eyes at one another. Awkward! Leaving the girls, Chubby and I have a beer and a cigarette on the deck talking about tonight and how hot he thinks Ellie is. He's probably thinking if only I were straight how much fun it would be for us to try getting in the girl's pants, or at least talking about it. Or maybe I'm wrong. I ask Chubby, "Do you ever wish I were straight so we could try picking up girls together?" He reaches over to squeeze my hand, saying, "No, Dylan I've never wished that. The thing I wish for the most is your happiness. I wouldn't change a thing about you because I couldn't love you more than I already do.
To me you're the perfect brother and perfect best friend." That makes my eyes tear up as I mutter, "We're the best friends and brothers the world has ever seen." He goes, "Exactly, bro!" We're quiet after that. Chubby and I have always been perfectly content just being together whether we're talking or not.
It's a little after midnight now, and we were up early this morning, so we decide to get some sleep. When we get up to go inside I see Charlie walking alone on the side walk next to our deck. He looks up at me and smiles, asking, "Will I see you on the beach tomorrow, Dylan?" I nod and smile back, saying, "I hope so, Charlie." He waves, "See you then." Chubby hugs my shoulders, saying, "Well alright, bro!" and I can't help but grin, feeling a little goofy because maybe I smiled too hard at Charlie. When we go inside we see both the mom's bedroom doors are closed so they had an early night, early for them. Before I get in bed I leave a text for Robby to read in the morning telling him I miss him, signing it, 'Love, Dylan'. Then it's lights out. Before sleep I think about Robby, and then about seeing Dodger on Wednesday. Then I wonder if maybe my brother and I have both gotten lucky in the romance department on our first day of vacation. That's a bit optimistic considering Charlie and I haven't said ten words to each other, but maybe we'll have more to say tomorrow. Then I feel bad about Jesse being the odd one out. Still, I can't wait for a day on the beach.
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumforf@outlook.com
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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
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