Caligula and Caesar's American Adventure

Long Beach Long Walk (Cae)

I haven’t been to the sea since … probably since I was ten and my parents took all of us to the beach in, oh God that’s weird, we went to Plymouth (the English one) and it was a fantastic day. The sun was out for the first time in for-fucking-ever and we had a picnic, and then Mum told us she had cancer and it wasn’t so good. She’s been smoking marijuana “medically” ever since then, though she’s been in remission for eight years. None of my siblings can remember when she was normal, they just know the fucking awesome version of her.

Anyway, what I’m saying is it’s really fucking weird that the second time I’ve been to the beach, it’s in Plymouth again, 3000 miles away and I feel so fucking homesick right now.

Cali and I just went to see the Plymouth Rock, and there’s not much to say. It’s a rock, in Plymouth. Then we drove to Long Beach and walked right to the fucking end. Three miles. It took us a fucking hour but I didn’t even mind.

Cali: “Are you alright?”

Me: “Yeah … why?”

Cali: “You seem kinda blue.”

And then I told her about my mum and the beach thing, and being so far away.

Me: “This is already the longest I’ve been away from my mum.”

Cali picked up this huge rock and heaved it in both hands. “We could throw a rock. Maybe it’ll reach your mom.”

Me: “And fucking knock her out?”

Cali: “It’s a gesture.” She gave me the rock and I threw it. It made a fucking huge splash in the shallow water and we both laughed.

Me: “I’m sure that got all the way to England. Douche.”

We skimmed stones for a while. Mine only ever bounced three times but Cali got it to do seven skips. Seven. Total fluke, of course. The next one sunk like the titanic, except not so fucking slow and whingey. I mean, God damn it, the fucking boat is sinking and you’re just standing there wailing about your fucking love. Get on a fucking lifeboat! That film is not sad or romantic, it just annoys the shit out of me. Literally, I once got diarrhoea right after watching it, I shit you not. Totally not a coincidence.

The walk back was easier, kind of. I just talked and talked and talked about home, and Cali actually listened without her usual comments about how I say things (the right way) and when we got back, someone had written on her poem, the one slapped on the side of the van. They had circled the bit that said “We’re going on a trip / To somewhere that I don’t understand” and by it, they wrote (in pink pen, of all things) “aren’t we fucking all?” and signed it as “lost soul.” Unless that was their name. In which case, I pity the fucker. Cali brought it inside and stuck it in the window. She says we’ve got a long journey ahead of us but she won’t say where we’re going. I bet it’s a fucking forest or some nature shit.