It Starts With Him

05

I still have the irrational fear of the ocean from when Lucas shoved me into it when we were seven. It started as fun and games, as most things usually did with us.

We were in South Carolina like we were every summer back then, and we were playing on one of the smaller beaches. Not any of the main ones. This one was little, and we called it our own. "L and D's Beach", we called it. As we got a bit older, Lucas started calling it "LSD beach", and I remember laughing but wanting to punch him at the same time.

No one was ever on this beach. It was secluded, hidden by a bunch of trees and shrubs. No one could see it from any of the main roads. It was our own little haven; our own little world.

I was playing with my barbie at the time when Lucas grabbed her out of my hands and threw her into the water as far as he could. I had shielded my eyes from the blaring sunlight as it sailed overhead and landed with a splash into the blue water.

"Lucas, you idiot!" I screamed. At that moment, mom came out of the house to see what was going on. I could tell she was about to reprimand me for using such a 'naughty word', and all I cared about was getting back my doll.

So I turned away from both her and Lucas and sprinted to the end of the pier. It was a long pier, and I heard mom's voice growing quieter the further I went. Eventually, I made it to the end. The water was so clear, and I remember just reaching out for the barbie.

I'm pretty sure you can guess what happened then. 

I fell in, of course. And since it was so far out into the water, the current grabbed me quicker than Lucas grabs my hair when I try to get the bathroom first in the morning. 

It dragged me out. I don't remember much after that, except mom jumping in and saving my life. She always was the one to save me in those moments. 

That fear of deep waters remains - so I'm sure you can understand my reaction as Lucas walks into the kitchen this morning.

I sit at the kitchen table, going through my list of novels I made on my phone that I was planning to read over the summer. Dad sets a coffee cup in front of me, and I grab it and stand it up, doctoring it the way I always like it. 

More milk than there is coffee, and much more sugar than I'd care to admit. Can you even count this as coffee? Not sure.

Lucas runs into the kitchen at nearly full speed, and my coffee cup nearly falls and shatters on the hardwood floor. I steady myself and turn towards him, my eyebrows raised.

"Beach party! On a yacht!" He shouts and I grimace at the volume but laugh. "What?" I say, not processing his words.  He grabs my shoulders and gets less than an inch from my face. Our noses are touching and my eyes are basically crossing trying to hold eye contact with him. 

 "Beach. Party. On. A. Yacht. And you're coming," he says, jabbing his finger into my rib cage.

I roll my eyes and groan. All he ever wants to do is get out of the house. I feel bad for dad, honestly. "Well, that sounds like a great time!" Dad says from his reserved seat at the head of the table. I stare at him and throw the last bit of my muffin at him in anger. Traitor.

He catches it in his mouth and Lucas laughs. I plop onto the couch and cover my face with my hands. "Dad..." I mutter.

"What? The two of you should go. I'll be gone tonight, anyway," dad says, starting to load the dishwasher. I get up and help him.

"What do you mean you'll be gone?" I question, and he laughs. "Your old dad has a life sometimes, too. It's the fitness club's 20th anniversary. I can get a membership half-off. Plus, there's ice cream," he explains, and I chuckle at his childishness.