July, 1985

The drive to Rhode Island was a long one that year. The family left home at noon but stalled out on the highway and had to flag down help from a talkative old man with blue coveralls and jumper cables. It was well past dinnertime when their beige minivan rolled into the small beachside town.

Waking from an uncomfortable sleep, the boy peered out the window at the rows of boxy two-story hotels lining the shore. The buildings were old, wooden structures covered in layer upon layer of white paint. Each hotel room had a small veranda that peered out over the dunes, the volleyball nets, the barbecue grills and the gently rolling waves. A boardwalk stretched out parallel to the water, dotted with carnival games and carts selling French fries with vinegar. The crowning jewel of the boardwalk was a tall, curving water slide made of red plastic. Children ran up its winding stairway to careen down the slide on spongy foam rafts, sometimes sneaking two at a time when the lifeguards were too busy to notice. To the young boy the slide seemed unbelievably massive, taller than any structure had a right to be.

Almost as soon as they arrived a massive storm crept in from the east and settled over the town. Tossing his bags down on the hotel cot, the boy rushed onto the terrace to look at the churning sea and the enormous canvass of swirling gray clouds hovering above it. Lightning slashed through the sky. The beach was deserted except for one man in a yellow raincoat walking his dog, coat flapping violently in the wind. The dog bounded around gleefully barking into the gusting air. The boy begged his parents to take him walking on the sand but they refused. There were rumors of a tornado touching down a few miles away.

The clouds hovered, the water churned and the atmosphere swelled with a delicious sense of menace but it didn’t start raining until around 8 o’clock, when thick warm droplets poured from the sky. The power cut out soon after. A girl came knocking, offering complimentary candles from a tray. She was the daughter of the hotel’s manager. The boy caught a glimpse of her when his mother opened the door. In the flicker of the candlelight her round cheeks looked like golden glowing apples. Her hair was short, red and curly with a white flower perched just above her left ear. She must have been about sixteen. The boy peeked through the front window blinds to watch her leave. She shuffled down to the next room in tiny blue shorts and a thin white cotton sweater dotted with raindrops, the gentle smack of her flip-flops echoing through the hall.

Another knock brought the boy’s aunt, uncle and cousin, carrying a bright orange cooler. The adults moved outside to the balcony and sat around a small white table, sheltered from the rain by a large umbrella with red and white stripes. They spread out a banquet on the table and as they ate and drank their talking and laughter became louder and more jovial. The boy asked to try the red drink with the green stalk that his mother was drinking but he recoiled at the strange spicy flavor. His mother laughed and gently urged him to go inside and play with his sister and cousin.

The kids dashed around the room playing freeze tag with flashlights. The yells of the children and the rumble of their feet rose up above the steady plink and patter of the rain outside. The entire floor became an electrified ocean teeming with eels and sharks and alligators and the children leapt from bed to bed to avoid falling in to a certain death. The boy gave his cousin a little shove and he plunged into the murky water, writhing and screaming.

The commotion brought the boy’s father inside. He asked if anyone was hurt and told them all to be careful and not to rough house. As soon as he left a war erupted. The boy’s cousin exacted revenge for his watery death. He snuck up behind the boy, pillow in hand and unleashed a furious barrage. The boy’s sister screeched with delight. In a few seconds everyone had taken up arms and the room exploded in a hail of feathers and cloth.

In the chaos a lamp fell over and shattered. The cousin stopped a moment to look with awe at the flying shards. The boy took advantage of the lull to land a powerful blow straight across his cousin’s face. There was an instant of complete quiet and then he burst into tears, blood streaming from his nose.

All of the adults rushed in, his father letting out an exasperated yell. His sister started crying too and pointing her finger at him. The furious rush of attention overwhelmed the boy. His eyes darted back and forth from his cousin with his bleeding nose to his sister and her tears and the angrily inquisitive looks of the adults. In a panic he rushed out the door made a haphazard left and dashed up a winding staircase.

On the roof he heard laughter, though it was muffled by the rain and reverberating strangely, as if from a great distance. A beam of light caught his eye and lured him across the patio past the rows of picnic tables and reclining chairs intended for sunbathing. The laughter grew closer and more distinct, trilling above the low steady rumble of the rain.

She lay on her back on a long recliner, shielded from the downpour by a picnic table umbrella. A flashlight aloft in her hands sent jittery light dancing through the darkness as she squirmed under the weight of a blond-haired teenage boy. She wrapped her legs wrapped around his back, giggling and tousling his hair. He slowly slid up her cotton sweater to unveil her smooth stomach and taut skin and then gingerly pulled it up over her head, exposing her breasts. As the shirt fell away the young boy saw the white flower tumble from her curly red hair. The teenage boy buried his face in her chest, his mouth careening wildly over her breasts and nipples, and she arched her back and let her head roll to one side. Her eyes closed in dreamy detachment, lips pursed wanly, and it looked to the boy as if something, whatever soul or essence her body possessed, had been emptied from her, leaving only a limp and writhing form.

There was shouting and the glare of flashlights, coming from behind him. The teenage boy seemed to leap backwards off the girl as she clutched for her sweater and pulled it back over her frame, concealing once again the firm, round breasts and swelling nipples. She shot a glance in the young boy’s direction and for a moment they locked eyes. He stood rigid and petrified and thought for a second he saw a smirk pass over her face. He swerved around to see his parents coming up the stairs, flashlights in hand. A beam caught him directly in the eyes and tears welled up to blind him. Suddenly a hand gripped his arm firmly but reassuringly and led him away. As he tramped down the stairs he peeked back towards the reclining chair but the girl and her companion were gone.

* * *

The storm moved on by morning. The family awoke to the cackling of seagulls and the steady swish of the waves. Brilliant sunlight flooded the hotel room through the sliding glass doors that lead to the deck. The boy lay on the cot watching the light creep further and further up his bare legs.

The power was on again and the boy and his sister sat cross-legged on the rug watching TV as they ate their breakfast of cereal with banana slices. Their parents sat at the small table by the window drinking coffee and reading yesterday’s paper, shielding their eyes from the glare of the sun. No one said more than two words all morning.

After breakfast they all went walking on the beach. Dashing out across the boardwalk and onto the sand the boy felt his sandal land on something hard and brittle and heard a crunch from under his feet. Looking down he saw shards of crab shell scattered in the sand. He glanced to his right and saw his sister kneeling down to examine a similar sight. To his left his father poked a carcass with a stick, a quizzical look on his face.

All across the beach were the shattered remnants of hundreds of crabs. Gulls pecked at the broken legs and crushed bodies, littering the sand with serrated chips of shell. The boy and his sister wandered in awe among the wreckage as the birds circled overhead whistling and cawing. The wind occasionally gusted up in a mild reminder of the fury of the previous night’s storm, but the air was warm and pure and the sun glistened brightly on the pliant sand, still wet from the newly receded tide. The boy walked off alone, head down, gazing at the vast array of fractured shells. How jagged and angular they were, so different from the smooth and soft figure of the girl on the roof. He heard his parents call his name. He turned around and squinted and saw them waving to him, two tiny silhouettes under an endless blue sky.