This Could Get Ugly / Conrad Fisher

Beaches

"Let's go to the beach."

I coughed on the water I was drinking. Michael hurried over and pat my back lightly. We had just gone down from the entertainment room to the kitchen for a small movie break.

We were watching a classic, Return To Me. You couldn't beat the old movies.  My mother had raised me to love the movies of her golden era and dearly, I did.

"And why would we do that? I thought we were having a good time," I whined.

"Don't give me that voice. And lately, I feel like you never have a good time. At least, when you are with me."

Why does he have to notice nothing and everything at the same time?

"What do you mean?" I tried to sound unbothered. "I've been so busy, I've hardly had time to breathe and relax."

"I feel like the only time I see you now is in the press, with your boyfriend, or holed up in your house." His tone was light as if the topic wasn't anything but.

"I'm completely fine."

"What I'm about to say may upset you, but you need to hear it. You appear deeply exhausted to me."

I knew I did. What once was just a flutter of purple under my eyes had become permanently dark. I covered it up with makeup but when Michael and I would just hang out, I felt no need to. My cheeks had started to hallow out, a large difference from my once round face but I never liked the way my face was fat to begin with.

My mother had started working with a team to get me more physical prominence online. This left me busy scrambling from modeling gigs to interviews and events. I had let her know that this was okay, that I wanted this. My parents had been exceptionally good of keeping the press out of my siblings and my life, always respecting our boundaries.

When I told her of my career endeavors, she was floored to hear one of her children wanted to carry on the legacy. It made me feel satisfied to see her so proud of me because I felt that after years of disappointing her, I was doing the right thing.

When I had begun, the goal was to model professionally. This started out with a schedule that was manageable and enjoyable for me. I was able to continue to go to school on a normal schedule while working towards my goal. In recent weeks, school had taken a backseat to what I wanted. I still went, my commitment had started to slope downward slightly.

I was terrified of what Jere would think if my career picked up enough so that I would push back college for a few years. That fear was small in my mental headspace. I was sure that superstardom wasn't possible in just a few short months.

How could Jere even be mad at me when I've been planning the party of the century for him with his beloved brother.

"I do admit, I've been working hard but it's all on events that I love."

"Not just tired, tired. You look done with life."

"I feel like I'm just getting started."

He laughs to diffuse the tension. "You never know when to quit, huh."

"Trust me, I have got absolutely every variable of my life under control," I plead.

"Alright, well, regardless, let go to the beach."

"We're coming close to December now, I'm pretty sure the water is frigid."

"We could just walk on the beach," he offered. Then he puffed his lower lip out and gave me the saddest eyes ever. "I'll drive?"

"I guess, I could pencil you in," I relent. The whole party showdown was long blown over in the press, prompting the trip to actually be possible.

And that's how we found ourselves walking next to the ocean in what few hours were left of the day on a Friday night.