𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑! [𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐊]

chapter sixteen.

CRUEL SUMMER!
chapter sixteen.

( the truth is rarely pure and never simple. )

                       The month before my fifth birthday, on a hectic, annoyingly overcrowded Fourth of July, I met Sarah Cameron.

It hadn't been long since I'd moved in next door to her and her high profiled family, and my father had already made it his personal mission to insert himself into the exhausting charade of it all. Distantly, I can also remember my mother's quiet compliance, but it was more so translated as an unrelenting presence. Almost like a ghost— haunting without truly existing.

I was only a child at the time, but I remember already being thoroughly displeased with the over the top, blatantly insincere socializations, wondering to myself if every summer in this new place that I was being forced to call home was going to entail such unnecessary dramatics. Of course, I hadn't known then, as a sulky four year old sitting by himself watching the crowd of people in the Cameron's backyard somehow grow bigger and bigger, just how much I would grow to resent it all in the years to come. So much so that it would have me itching to run away from it.

Neither of my parents ever paid much attention to me, regardless of where we found ourselves. Especially back when I was that age, when I was too young to really have anything of importance to brag about to the counterparts they'd want to impress.

Truthfully, with how often it happened, I ended up learning to use the fact to my advantage. Considering both were busy, my father entertaining Ward and my mother downing her fourth glass of champagne - I decided to make a quick escape down to the beach. Some other kids were there, all coming from the Cameron's extravagant celebration as well, but they were further down along the beach, splashing each other in the shallow part of the water.

It was always a strange, detached sort of feeling I'd get when watching other children interact together. No part of me ever longed to be amongst them. I wasn't a talkative child, nor was I interested in the same things they were. I knew I wouldn't fit, and I didn't care enough to try to understand how to. So, much like always, I only watched them blankly from afar before eventually looking away. I shuffled my sandals off to leave them on the hot sand and made towards the shore to let my feet sink into the water.

Echos of laughter carried over along with the warm afternoon breeze. The sun would be setting soon, ripples of golden light reflecting on the crashing waves. The water, still warm and sandy and swaying softly, was an unexpected commodity amongst the overall discomfort I was so accustom to. For the first time since moving to North Carolina, there was a sense of peace. Like the brash exterior surrounding me was finally able to quiet down.

I knew then that I wanted to savor this unbridled moment for as long as possible, but even then, as nothing but a child, something in me was still able to identify that it was quite a heavy thought - equating what I believed to be solitude, but what I know now was truly just loneliness, to peace.

But that feeling, be it peace, solitude, loneliness or all of the above— didn't particularly last long. Not a minute later, an excited, high pitched voice startled me out of my thoughts.

"Wanna make sand pies with me!"

Grammatically, I could recognize that this was a question. However, it wasn't really phrased that way.

When I glanced up, admittedly still slightly taken aback by the unexpected interruption, I was met with the sight of Sarah - four years old, sporting a floral one piece swimsuit that clashed terribly with the red, white and blue bucket hat that sat on her dripping wet hair. Sand stuck to her damp knees and arms, where she held a pail and shovel, and she wore an eagerly inviting smile on her face.