(2018) Heights Vol. 65, No. 2

* We walk past the lobby. The dead-eyed lady is gone. We can hear the ocean, smell it, and soon see it stretching before us. Rich props his Ray Bans on his head. We squint, and watch the waves lap the shore.

There are people up and down the coast, but not as many as there should be, even for late summer. There’s a cluster of them by a big rock outcropping squatting down, drawing in the sand.

Josie crosses her arms. “Dang, this place is even sadder than I thought it would be.”

“No negativity allowed,” Nina chirps.

“Beach, ladies?” Rich asks. Josie shrugs.

The sand doesn’t burn our feet when we walk across it. The sand looks almost blue. We pass two children building a sandcastle, their heads bent in concentration. We are distracted by the severe pink of the little girl’s bikini bottom. The boy looks up and Nina thinks his eyes look wet, hungry. She’s kind of hungry herself. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t smile back—he just stares awkwardly, so she looks away. We reach the water. Josie sticks one foot in, then the other.

“Is it cold?” Nina asks.

“Not super,” Josie says. The best way to describe it is that tepid warmth after some kid pees in the swimming pool.

Rich stoops as a wave rolls in and flicks water at Nina. She shrieks.

The sharp, lilting sound slices the air. Rich yanks his sando over his head and drops it on the ground, and Josie and Nina make faces at each other. Even with abs, Rich isn’t as hot as he thinks.

“I hope I don’t step on a crab,” Nina says as she wades in. * What is it about beaches that make everyone sleepy? We don’t last more than an hour, walking up and down the coast, kicking in the low tide while clouds hang above us. We’re used to that from Manila: sudden downpours. A few clouds don’t scare us. They’re not going to ruin our trip.

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