14 Days

6

Change was fickle. Change did not take feelings or timing into account. Change came when it wished, how it wished, as a slow process or all at once.

Change hit us like a hundred pounds of bricks dropped from a sixteenth floor.

Beau was the first to wake the following morning. He sat at the desk with breakfast; toast with jam. The plate that remained had toast with the edges cut off and a glass of apple juice instead of orange.

"Mom must be feeling extra nice today. She never cuts the edges off for me anymore," I said. Maybe I shouldn't have though because Beau's response had that piece of toast hanging from my mouth in shock.

"I got us breakfast today." He rummaged around in his pockets. A moment later, a few band-aids and ointment were placed on the table. "For your blisters," he explained like he was speaking about the damn weather. "Mom gave them to me."

The temptation to ask if he specifically went to see her in hopes to get that for me was strong. In the end, I couldn't bring myself to question the truth. I wasn't sure if I was grateful or confused and a response may only make that worse. They seemed really simple, but the most simple of actions often left the greatest impact.

"Ah, um, thanks," I said when taking the offered medical supplies.

He hummed. The TV was all that cut through the silence. Noise that drifted in one ear and out the other, nothing more than static in my mind.

"So, are you going off to take more pictures today?" I inquired when we both were ready to leave. Beau slipped the room key into his camera bag.

"I planned to. Why?"

"Just curious."

Another hum then we went our separate ways. I was a little disappointed; in myself or Beau, I wasn't so sure.

Our second day at the beach and the skies were very not clear. There was a solemn overcast that left the shore drab, mirroring my own glum thoughts. The once blue sea matched the sky in color, a dirty gray with dark sands. That didn't stop anyone from enjoying the ocean though.

I frolicked the same as yesterday, but my eyes continuously studied the shoreline for a familiar face. When I caught a glimpse of Beau, he was never looking my way. I told myself I wasn't disappointed.

Then Aunt Zoey kept her promise. She was disheartened upon discovering the plastic tools brought had broken when in the trunk. Our misfortunes did not deter her from her goal; to build sand castles. In the end, we sat with our parents digging moats and attempting to make a fort.

The one time I accidentally fell on Beau's rather impressive wall resulted in a glare, nothing more. Our parents were shocked. Mom even asked, "What's up with you two today?"

"H-Huh?" I sputtered, swiftly sitting upright. Beau quietly put the wall back in order.

"You're not arguing."

"And Beau didn't try to murder you for destroying his magnificent wall," Uncle David added, smirking at Beau's dark expression.

"It was an accident." I nervously laughed.

Our parents gave each other looks, but, seeing as we weren't fighting, they deemed it alright not to pry. I was relieved because I wasn't sure what to say. That sentiment lingered throughout the day too, a shared feeling so it seemed. Beau and I never said a word to each other, not even when feeding the seagulls...who ended up stealing my flip flops. That at least got a laugh, one that Beau cut off when catching my attention.

He didn't help get my flip flops back either. Jerk.

The second day at the beach ended without incident, or perhaps no incident still constituted as an incident. The answer was unclear, as unclear as the growing tension between two that were often the very definition of tension.