Walk on the Ocean

Where the Sunbeams End: Chapter 15

Photo by Say Cheeze Studios on Unsplash

I wandered the lot, making sure all the shopping carts were neatly tucked away. The purple, blue, and orange of that sunset. The beautiful realization that I had made it. It’d been 9 months since I started working for Costco and now it was time for vacation. 

It was a good job, although I needed some help realizing it. Initially I thought that cart duty was the bottom of the totem pole. The place where they stuck the unlucky newbies. It was so monotonous. You would go around the lot to each corral of carts. Straighten and neatly line up the carts. Then come by with the electric cart pusher, remote in hand, and collect each line. There was a system and you had to be somewhat astute with the remote control, but it was not complicated. 

One day, as I was returning a row of carts to the front of the store, an older gentleman stopped me. 

“I wish they paid me to exercise,” he said with a slight smile and a twinkle of the eye. 

I hadn’t thought about how good I had it until that moment. He was right. The exercise and extra sun was great for me mentally. Plus I didn’t have to really think about what I was doing. Just follow the system and keep the lot clear. I started picking my head up, noticing the world around me a bit more. 

I admit Costco is almost like an amusement park, especially on Saturday and Sunday. Crowds of folks shuffling through the doors, excited to get those bulk savings. It can be a bit overwhelming and it took a bit of skill to avoid the cars and people with that electric cart pusher. But it became second nature for me, so I’d walk with certainty and swagger. 

By the time vacation rolled around, each day was just a stroll. I would check out chicks all day and sometimes they’d check me out. 

“I’d fuck you,” a young woman had yelled out to me as she drove away. 

“I’d fuck you too,” I whispered to myself with a grin. 

So the job was good, and life was good. Sure, Judith and I were still living in the basement, but we were both working, things looked to be moving forward. I didn’t really have time to contemplate the reality of my mental health and I thought that was okay. I think I was just happy to feel normal.

What probably wasn’t normal was my use of cannabis. I’d stopped drinking, except for the occasional beer, but I’d also started to dose myself with a daily bong rip or two. Medical Marijuana was all the rage and I knew a guy getting top quality stuff straight from California. 

A dose in the morning and then a dose before bed. This was a drug regimen that I could keep up with. 

It was a family vacation in the Outer Banks, the beaches off the coast of North Carolina. First stop is always at our favorite dive, Tortuga’s Lie. A quaint little bar and grill, with the perfect beach vibes, serving up burgers, sandwiches, and of course fresh seafood. Dad always gets a Guinness, but I chose a tall Red Stripe. The whole family bursting with excitement, our voices echoing through the dining area. The ceiling is littered with unique license plates from across the country. I’m in my happy place. 

The stilted house was pretty large. It had to be, there were a bunch of us. My dad’s two brothers and their families, Ray and Abby were there, Dad, and then Judith, her daughter Sierra, and me. I can’t recall everyone who made that trip, but all in all there could have been as many as 20 of us. 

There was a pool and a hot tub on the premises, which ensured that we were always only a few feet away from a body of water to sink into. 

This was Judith and Sierra’s first encounter with extended family and they introduced themselves by accidentally exposing their breasts. 

These were separate occasions. As everyone was lugging in their bags and suitcases, Sierra, probably adjusting her grip on her luggage, slipped and pulled down her bikini top. Kevin, my uncle John’s step son, was directly in view of the slip. 

“His eyes got real big,” Sierra explained. 

My brother Ray was sitting with a beer, toes in the sand, staring out into the waves. Judith had gotten brave. She is one who respects the ocean, as we all should. But I’ve always loved diving in and out of the foaming, curling, and crashing waves. Judith needed some nudging. As she made her way into the surf, a wave caught her bathing suit top and pulled. After a brief glance, my brother sipped his beer and turned his head the other way. She eventually felt the cool water against bare nipple and situated herself. 

Like all beach trips, this one went too fast. But it was a pleasant week, without too many squabbles. I would routinely sneak off to our room, pull out that large orange pill bottle, and decide which little bud’s turn it was to burn. Keeping a cool buzz was top priority for most of us that week. The one disagreement or squabble concerned Sierra and her efforts to join in on the party. 

She was 16 at the time. She’d snuck a few Mike’s Hard Lemonades and my aunt and uncle were concerned. I wasn’t. I left all of the parenting to Judith. It was her daughter after all. I was technically a step parent, but to be honest I was not fit for the job. I showed Sierra love and respect, but I hadn’t the slightest idea when it came to raising a teenager. 

In the end we just told Sierra not to drink too much, and for god sakes don’t flaunt it in front of the adults. 

I don’t blame her for joining in on the party. A Smetanick beach trip means there will be drinking, and for most folks it's too much. Us adults were not exactly setting a good example. 

But it was Sierra who would rescue one of the adults, my father Pat. 

It was late, the sun had set on another day. I was already in a pot induced coma upstairs. 

Sierra, probably on her way to the cooler to sneak another Mike’s, found my father passed out in the hot tub. His long dark locks floating in the bubbly water, while his arms hung outside the rim of the tub. One hand holding a glass, which only contained shrunken ice cubes. 

“Pat!” Sierra yelled.

“Hmmmfff,” my father mumbled as he stirred from his slumber. 

“You’re gonna drown!” 

“What! What?” He said as he sat up further, the water sloshing around in the tub. 

It’s true. That’s why they have those signs posted above the hot tub. You should only stay in for a limited amount of time. On a skiing trip once, my grandfather, Mom’s dad, had stayed in too long. His muscles all went slack and he needed help getting out. 

Dad looked up, finally totally aware of his surroundings, and smiled. 

“I’m fine. Wanna walk down to the beach?” 

My father followed Sierra barefooted towards the ocean. His feet unhappy with the bumpy asphalt. Finally, about the time his feet became accustomed to the rough road, they were on the cool sand. The breeze coming off the ocean waving the tall stalks which grew beside the pathway up the dunes. 

“Come on, let’s get in Sierra.” 

“I’m not gettin in there, this is when the sharks come out.” 

My father waded in before diving beneath a crashing wave. 

“Come on. It’s fine!” He shouted back towards shore. 

Dad couldn’t convince her to join him, but I love this moment. A bonding moment between blended family members. Dad would never be Sierra’s real grandpa, but for this brief moment I hope that both of them felt loved by the other. I hope they forgot that they weren’t really family.