“I’m not saying they have more fun,” I replied. She gave me a doubtful look. “I’m saying that, you know, we never get to go to the beach and just, you know, let loose. Fall in love and be different, with no permanent record. We live in our permanent record.”
“There are other beaches besides here,” she said.
“I know. But we’ve never gone to any of them, have we?”
“Emaline, I look at the ocean all year long,” she told me. “If I travel, I want to do something different.”
“Which is exactly what I’m saying. You go on vacation, you can be different. We see people do it all the time. But we’re always just supporting players in someone else’s summer, so we stay the same.”
“I like my same, though,” she said. “And don’t forget, things are about to change, in just a month or two, with college. Right?”
I nodded, but really, that was different. College was for four years, not one week. It was permanent, whereas a vacation—like the ones I saw beginning, in progress, and ending all around me, every day—had a set duration, only a finite amount of time before it was gone for good. Just once, I would have liked to find out how it felt to come to a place like Colby, have the time of my life, and then leave, taking nothing but memories with me. Maybe someday.
“Next!” the heavyset guy behind the counter called out. We stepped forward. “Crazy Daisy, my favorite customer.”
“Eddie Spaghetti,” she replied. “How’s it going?”
“Wednesday,” he said with a shrug, like this was an answer.
She put down a twenty-dollar bill. “She wants her usual. No mayo.”
“You got it,” he said, scribbling something on his order pad. “You guys eating?”
“Slice of cheese,” I told him, and Daisy held up two fingers. I reached for my money, but she shook her head, sliding the bill towards him. “Hey. I can pay.”
“I know.”
Eddie comped us two fountain drinks, which we got before claiming a booth to wait for our food. “So,” Daisy said, unwrapping her straw, “why’d you really just take a shower?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“For you, yes.” She flicked her eyes to the TV over my head, then back at me. “I know for a fact you’ve been up since six thirty, at work at eight sharp. Last I checked you didn’t take bathing breaks.”
I poked at my ice. “Luke and I, um, met up for lunch at my house.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “I thought you said never again.”
“I did. Apparently this is never.”
“Apparently you want to get caught.”
“I really don’t,” I told her. She made a face, clearly doubting this. “But it’s not like we have a lot of options.”
“Other people manage.”
I held up my hand. “Stop right there. Remember what I told you. I don’t want to hear about you and Morris.”
“I’m not talking about me,” she replied, offended. “I don’t sneak around like that.”
“You do it in the car or dunes instead?”
“I don’t do it, period. You know that.” This was true. Daisy was a virgin, and planned to remain one until marriage. While the reasons for this tended to vary from person to person, among the people we know it was usually religion based. Daisy, however, was not a churchgoer. But her family was her faith. Mr. and Mrs. Ye, first-generation immigrants, were upstanding, hardworking, morally centered people who expected their children, especially their oldest daughter, to follow suit. In their family, there was no rebellion, no back talk, no sneaking a boy home at lunch. These things just Did Not Exist. My mom, battling with my sisters and me throughout middle and high school, once asked Mrs. Ye how she managed to keep her kids so in line. She just looked at her. “They are children,” she said. “You are adult.” It was just that simple. At least at their house.
“Order up!” Eddie yelled, hitting the little bell by the register. Daisy started to move but I shook my head, going over to pick up our slices and her mom’s sandwich. I was just sliding into my seat when the front door beeped again. Looking over, I saw my dad, Morris, and a couple of other guys from Dad’s crew coming in. Morris headed right over, but my dad just waved en route to the counter. I waved back, wondering if my hair looked damp from a distance.
“Hey, girl,” Morris said as he plopped down beside Daisy, sliding an arm around her waist. She presented her cheek for a kiss. Two months together and they were like an old married couple.
“Morris!” my dad called out. He and the other guys were up at the counter ordering. “You eating or what?”
“Yeah,” Morris replied. “Get me—”
I kicked him squarely in the shin, as hard as I could. He squeaked, then looked at me. “What?”
“Are you seriously asking him to order for you?”
He glanced at my dad, who I could tell, even from this distance, was annoyed bordering on irritated. Next step was pissed, and nobody wanted that.
“Go over there,” I said, my eyes level on him. “Now.”
Morris slid away from Daisy, shooting me a look, then loped back to the rest of the crew. My dad watched him approach and order, his expression flat. When Eddie was done ringing everyone up, my dad slid some bills across the counter. He’d told me a million times there was no such thing as a free lunch, but somehow Morris managed to get one. If it wasn’t too much trouble to order it himself.