THE BEACH LAY SUNNY SIDE UP
July 22nd 2008 12:06
It’s hard creating good art out of something hopeful or entirely optimistic. If you write a story without drama, all you’ll end up with is a self help book.
There’s something about beaches that drags us to them. Trillions of bits of sand and a giant mass of crumpling blue; waves that sometimes go all the way, waves that sometimes hold back. The sun sits above, glowing, not saying a word. After a while the beach gets lonely, after a while it gets tired of its own company. So it spits out invisible bits of glorious vomit and calls us in from wherever we are, and we find ourselves walking towards its breath.
Children run in, excited; parents soon follow. Hot girls and pervert boys are littered around the place, absorbing everything in. There are surfers and lifeguards and fat old couples. There are smiles and there are sunglasses and there is lotion being rubbed on a red, wobbly back.
Jude and I were lured by the beach, so we drove to Gold Coast. We found a spot. Bits of sand clung onto my feet; they wanted to follow me home, they didn’t know I was there to stay. Jude and I stopped, scanned the area, took our shirts off. We raced to the water, all the while the sand holding onto us desperately, urging us not to go; the water grumbled, telling us to join the fucking party. Jude did a cartwheel right before landing into the tip of the water’s frothy tongue. I followed him. It’s winter. The water was cold, but deep down we knew it tolerated us. We swam further into the water. We wanted to stop feeling our feet.
Dean, Jude sort of gurgled. I can’t swim back in.
What do you mean?
I don’t know.
Well, I said. We’re not supposed to swim back in yet.
We swam for a bit longer.
Dean?
Yeah.
I’m scared.
When I looked up, Jude was gone. He was metres away from me.
Dean! He screamed.
The more I swam towards him, the further he seemed to go. The water sent its rift in. I looked back at the sand and it was barely visible. The people, the help, was barely visible. The sand on my feet was no longer there. It was back at home, telling me, I told you so, fucker, I hope the cold water shrinks your dick! I told myself to stay calm. Jude was gone. I yelled for help. I swallowed water. I yelled for help. The sand was gone. I couldn’t hear Jude anymore.
I felt a hand pull me and I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, there were two lifeguards looking at me disappointedly. One of them ran off, back towards the sea, back towards a boat. I stared out at them, knowing what they were looking for.
Jude wasn’t the same after he got rescued. His eyes were red.
Someone saved my life, he said.
I know.
Dean, I’m a bad person. We’re bad people. We do a lot of horrible things.
I know.
Someone saved my life. He smiled.
I know. I looked at him. He was wrapped in a towel.
Someone actually saved my life. He laughed. Tears smudged his face.
I put my arm around his shoulders. I laughed and cried too.
I’m getting married!
What? I was genuinely surprised. Jude was a guy who once told me that he'd rather have sex with a five dollar bill for the rest of his life than put up with a girl for the rest of his life.
I forgot to tell you! I proposed to my girlfriend yesterday! He cried even more. He laughed even more. I’m in love, and I don't think I can get back out of it.
Want to swim?
Fuck off!
We headed back towards Jude’s car. For a moment, the ocean wasn’t lonely.
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Wonderful story (well a scary story wonderfully told)... (as Always). So glad you made it okay.
fabulous sound clip - guitar picking a great favourite.
Lilla ...