Unthinkable

August *** Part 4

"You are getting red. Did you put sunblock on?" I wish this was the first time I've ever heard those words.

Ugh, kill my beach buzz why don't you.

"Yes, Mom."

I am getting red even though I've used almost an entire bottle. I can feel it. I can always feel it.

Everyone else in my family tans. I look out the window and I get a sunburn. It's not fair. I'm the whitest (or reddest, depending on the day) Italian on the planet.

"Maybe you should head back to the house for a bit?" Mom's right, no amount of sunblock can save me now. She continues, "See if Oliver will go with you?"

I don't want to leave the beach but this burn is going to suck. I grab another towel to cover my legs.

Mom's staring out at the ocean, checking on my brother.

I roll my eyes — somehow she knows. "Don't roll your eyes at me. Besides Oliver knows the way back."

Ever since they, my parents and Sue, lost me for two hours at Disney World, when I was eight, I haven't been allowed to walk anywhere alone. I still contend it's their fault. I called ahead, they just didn't hear me. As usual they weren't listening to me!

My hideous sense of direction aside, I'm the older one. I should be going with him, not the other way around.

Before I have time to lodge a complaint, Mrs. Tate has summoned Oliver out of the ocean and handed him $10 to get us ice cream on the way home.

Then again, a little alone time with Oli might be just what the doctor ordered.

***

We stop at Emack & Bolio's for a couple slices of ice cream pizza on the way home.

All the seats are taken, popular place. A small shirtless child runs by us. He's covered in ice cream drippings and shouting "There's a moose on the loose" over and over. Perfectly New England. This kinda shit can't happen in other parts of the country, can it?

"Let's just head back to the house, we can eat these on the way. I'm pretty keen to avoid placing my sunburnt ass on any hard, sticky surfaces." Oli nods in agreement. Even without a sunburn, I wouldn't want to sit on those chairs. "Thanks for leaving the beach with me. You know, you could have stayed, if you wanted to."

"Nah, it's cool. Aaron was driving me crazy."

"Little brothers." In unison. We both shake our heads. We know.

***

Back at his grandma's house, we change out of our wet clothes, hang them on the line to dry, and curl up in matching faded, blue corduroy loungers in the living room.

I am working my way through my third JFK biography this summer and Oli is curled up with some sci-fi series.

3:30 p.m. Sun streaking in through the window. On any other day, under any other circumstances, you'd be hard pressed to keep me from slipping into a deep, perfect nap.

***

Dear Jesse —

Yesterday, alone at the house with Oliver was everything. It was amazing. Except for this stupid sunburn. I'm dying. Everything hurts. I look like a lobster. Why does the sun hate me?

Sun, what did I do to you? Why have you forsaken me?

Oli and I spent the afternoon in almost total silence, just reading together. It was pretty close to perfect. A couple times, I felt him staring at me. (Are you hearing "Secret Smile" in your head? Cause you should be!) Thank God he couldn't see me blush under the sunburn.