Underwater

Chapter 2

We live a mile and a half inland on some shaded street called Pebble Lane. Cheesy, I know. Aunt Del bought the little fixer upper with no intention of any fixing up. She told me the moment she saw it that it was the most unique home she'd ever seen. Back in Tucson, we lived in a condo close to Tucson High School where I could easily transition between school and my home, out of the way of any potential criminals lurking around to kill me. Of course, they probably had no idea I'd gone to Tucson with Aunt Del, but we were both overly cautious. Sometimes I stood outside the condo and took a couple hits off this kid named Rodney who was always way too high to remember my name. So sometimes I told all my shit to Rodney. He got it. Maybe because he didn't even know where he was or what day it was, but it was better that way. I still found solace in him.
Aunt Del moved us in a month ago, the middle of April. I had immaculate grades and when the situation was laid out for my teachers they let me take all my finals early and even made sure all my credits were transferred to Coastal High. They were saints. The neighbor to the right of us is some awful college creep named Demarcus, and my constant fear is that he'll bust my window and rape me, but I mostly overthink it. Just like everything else. To the left of us is a kindly old couple, The Jones', who always bring us citrus fruit and lemonade. I bring them cookies in return. Aunt Del loves them. The street is made up of similar looking beachy houses with thinning, peeling paint from all the salty air and mositure. It's comfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss our house on the beach that I grew up in. That will always be home.
"Aunt Del, I'm gonna head to the beach!" I call, praying she'll let me go. I hear something fall and I wince. No dice.
"Absolutely not, Ericka! How many times have I emphasized no going out alone for that long!" she says in a raised, clipped tone that puts me on edge. I just need to get to the beach.
"Yeah, fine, fine, I know. Come with me?" I give in. She relaxes and throws her arms up "Well, what the heck, right? I was planning on going anyways with Eleanore, Serrah, and Stacy. Sound okay?" she smiles sweetly, gathering up the beach bag and tossing in some rumpled, damp beach towels I'd used for practice last night.
"Of course" I smile tight-lipped. My social life is in shambles. No one on the swim team is up for hanging out with me, plus I'm not sure if I'm ready for social interaction. What if they are part of the crew after me? No, I can't risk it. Better off this way. But I'm lonely, I am. I'm really, really alone. Aunt Del's great, but I'm 17. A best friend to tell everything to or a boyfriend to tell me I look nice wouldn't hurt. But I understand, and have slowly accepted, what my life means. I don't get those simple luxuries. So a trip to the beach with Aunt Del sounds fantastic. I sigh as I change into one of my Jolyns, a bikini that is popular among water sport athletes, especially coastal girls. I toss on a light, cotton dress and slip on my Rainbow brand flip flops. Easy enough.
"You don't mind getting the chairs, do you sweetheart?" my aunt asks, but I've already tossed them in the back of my dad's old Suburban. Aunt Del drives it now. I climb into the passenger seat and she speeds off to pick up her many batty friends that she'd met through tennis, dominoes, and her various other ways to keep busy even though she has no steady income.
We finally get to the beach and park along a sloping street that leads up to the top of the hill, a couple hundred yards away from the beach. Eleanore compliments how athletic I look since I began swimming again, and I politely thank her even though it's been just shy of a week back in the water. I drag the folding chairs all the way down the rough road- desperately in need of resurfacing- and past the sand volleyball courts, finally making it to the crest just above where the sand gently slopes into the wet sand of the water's edge and melts into the ocean. I observe it for a second and take a deep breath. This is freedom, this is living. This is overcoming everything I've endured and coming out on the other side. This was Mom and Dad's favorite place in the entire world. Now it's mine too. I slip off the dress and toss it on my towel, slipping off the flip flops as well. I march down to the water's edge where the tide climbs with each wave. I dip my toes in the freezing water and sigh, cold but heavenly. I wade a little farther in and become acutely aware of the mass of surfers on the other side of the yellow flag. It's a hoard of them, practicing. I know some of them are bound to go Pro. I've always loved watching the surfers. I watch them all carefully, as I relax in the shallow end, the waves rhythmically moving me. There's one guy I spot easily, he's incredibly different than all the rest. He's a hulking, African American guy with buzzed hair and muscles that could snap me. I try to remember seeing him, but I don't. Maybe he's a tourist? Or a new local? It's not like I've exactly been present the last 3 years.  He's really good. They all are, actually. I watch all of them until the sun starts to set and the cloudless sky turns a hazy purple, orange.
Mom opened the door to the Suburban and instructed me to hop out. "Why? It's daddy's car" I murmer. I should be more behaved but I'm angry at my mother. How could she be giving Aunt Del Daddy's car. He loved that car. He said it made him feel super cool when he drove me to swim, school, etc. I always laughed at that. "Behave, Ericka Autumn" she hisses as Aunt Del approaches us in tears. "I can't believe you're doing this for me, Katey, you're an angel." "Oh, Delaney, you know he'd want you to have it in such a situation. In fact, I'm quite sure he would've wanted you to have it no matter what", Mom spoon-feeds her this prepared sentence, but sweet Aunt Del deteriorates into a wet, snotty mess as Mom embraces her. Mom had already explained to me that Aunt Del needed the car more than daddy, and that daddy would've agreed. "Daddy's not dead, you crazy bitch!" I'd screamed at her. She didn't understand that Aunt Del being broke,  and living in a trailer park without a vehicle didn't seem quite as important as the sentimental value t0 my small, 13 year old brain. She didn't understand that her giving that car away turned him being gone into him being dead. How could she not see it? My question was answered that night when I heard her screaming at the ceiling and throwing shit at the wall. She had to give the car away because it gave her the worst thing possible: Hope.