What I Should Have Done ✓

Chapter 45

"You up already?" asked Dad when we descended the stairs and entered the kitchen the next morning. When he saw there was two of us, he called a good morning in John's direction as well. He then proceeded to crack eggs and stir them in with the others he was preparing for scrambling.

Now we were seated around the small kitchen/dining table, eating our eggs and toast while Dad chatted about the progress he and John had made on the wardrobe the previous day. After being done sulking about the fact that I had gone shopping with Gabe, John told me about the woodworking rather enthusiastically.

They had milled the decorative parts of the doors and Dad had let John do one entire door after having him practice on a spare piece of wood. John had learned the names of a bunch of tools and Dad had explained to him how he did his drafts for the furniture. I had helped out a little here and there over the years, but I had never been ecstatic about the creative part. Dad seemed happy to be able to fascinate a young person with his work.

"What are your plans for today, Peanut?"

"Um... I haven't given it much thought. We were going to do Portland tomorrow. Portsmouth maybe?"

"The waves are supposed to be good today. You could drive out to the beach and watch the surfers."

John perked. "They surf out here? At this time of the year?"

"Oh, they surf out here any time of the year," Dad explained with a smile.

"Even during the thick of winter, they get out their heavy wetsuits and get out there on their boards. It's crazy, but impressive to watch."

"Hasn't Gabe done the New Year Surf before?" asked Dad and I wanted to roll my eyes at him for bringing him up again.

"I don't know," I replied even though I knew he had, then explained to John: "They have this tradition here on the coast where they all meet up on the morning of New Year's Day and greet the new year with a surf. Though most don't stay out on the water for long in this cold."

John frowned, presumably still at Dad's fixation on his quasi-son Gabriel. After the quality time they had spent yesterday while we had been out shopping, John had probably thought he wouldn't need to compete with Gabriel anymore. Which, of course, he didn't and wasn't, but it seemed like it to him.

"Anyway, would you be interested in the beach?" I asked John. "We could pack some lunch and blankets and stay however long we want and return in the afternoon."

"Or let's go out for lunch somewhere in the area." When he noticed my badly masked hesitation, he added: "My treat."

***

I sent a thank-you text to my dad for the idea of hitting the beach. The weather gods were smiling upon us, gracing our day with a temperature in the low 60s and enough wind to create a good swell for the surfers, but not so much that their spectators would freeze to death.

We placed a picnic blanket on the sand beside a large rock, then sat down and wrapped ourselves in a thick wool blanket. John leaned against the smooth surface of the rock and I sat between his knees, leaning against his chest. Where his hands connected in front of me, I placed my hands over his and stroked his thumb absentmindedly.

I loved the beach, especially during the off-season. It was mid-March and the region's natives ruled the coast at this time. There were few honeymooners, no families with little children, and, importantly, no spring breakers. The calming sound of the waves hitting the shore filled me, and I knew I was home. John's heart beat quickly but evenly against my back and mine matched its pace. I closed my eyes and let my surroundings take over. The whoosh of the sea, the cries of the seagulls, and the cars passing on the coastal county road behind us. Salty air tickled my nose and the wind was blowing tiny drops of water on my face, even if we were still more than 60 feet from the piling seafoam.