This is the 62nd installment of a 100-day challenge to write a new vignette every morning.
Pantyhose and heels are an interesting choice of attire for the beach. Admittedly, I love her outfit—classy, really—but she keeps stumbling. Twice, she almost topples forward all the way. The third time, she slaps a beer out of a man’s hand as she reels and tries to stay upright.
Sipping my own beer, I watch her approach. I meet her eyes a couple times but focus more on the swinging of her handbag—Prada, no doubt—and the billowing of her clothes in the springtime breeze. It’d really be a shame for her to get sand in the creases of that blouse or all over that pencil skirt—but she’s an adult. She makes her choices.
And I make mine. I wish I could get her to understand that, but she skids to a halt in front of me looking anything but understanding.
“You’re supposed to be at school.”
I try to take another swig of beer, but she seizes the bottle and flings it down the beach. It lands near a couple’s floral beach towel.
“And you’re supposed to be at work, so I guess neither of us are where we’re supposed to be, huh? Let’s just lean into that and have a nice day.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re not making this any easier, Cameron. Do you think I want to be chasing you down on my lunch break?”
“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have told my parents you’d take care of me.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until she plops down on the blanket next to me and hands me a tissue.
Miles Away 