Notes from the Backseat. Jody Gehrman

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СКАЧАТЬ both tried to speak at once. I said, “Aren’t you getting in?” and he said, “Beautiful day,” and then we both looked at our laps, the awkwardness between us so obvious, it made it even more awkward.

      “Come on,” he said finally, opening the door, getting out and pushing the seat forward to let me out. “I want to show you something.”

      It was difficult navigating the steep, rocky path down to the beach in my kitten heels, but Coop’s arm was right there whenever I needed something to balance against. For the first time in my life, I could see the appeal of sneakers or even those hideous river sandals that were the plague of the ’90s—Tevas or Geckos or whatever you call them. When we got down to the beach I took my shoes off and the sand against my bare feet was silky-warm.

      “We used to come here a lot.” Coop’s dark hair was windblown already from the car ride, and now the ocean breeze played with it gently, swishing a few strands in and out of his face.

      “You and Dannika?” I tried not to pucker my lips in distaste when I said her name.

      He squinted against the sun. It was bright out and the sky was that rich, lucid September blue, marred only by a couple of patches of pinkish fog hovering near the horizon.

      “Yeah,” he said. “Phil and Joni, too—this was kind of our spot.”

      “The friends we’re going to see?”

      “Yeah. I think you’ll like them. They’re really cool.”

      I just nodded.

      Dannika was doing a series of yoga stretches just outside the reach of the surf. We both looked at her, our eyes drawn by the elegant lines her body made as she arched and folded, performing a slow dancelike sequence, her blue bikini striking against the dark velvet of wet sand. We were the only ones on the beach besides a couple of seals bobbing out in the water and a flock of pelicans swooping low, teasing the foamy edges of the waves with their long, graceful wings.

      “She’s a little high-strung today,” Coop said.

      “Dannika?”

      He nodded.

      “She seems pretty relaxed to me.” I tried to make it sound offhand, like I really hadn’t given it much thought.

      “She, um…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “She tries to give the impression that she’s confident—even cocky—but the truth is, she’s pretty insecure.”

      I kind of snorted at that. I couldn’t help it. If he wanted to make me feel sorry for her, it was going to be a hard sell.

      “No, I know, it sounds crazy. People figure she’s got everything—successful career, amazing La Jolla beach house—”

      “Perfect body,” I added bitterly.

      “Exactly,” he said, agreeing a little too readily for my taste. “The whole package.”

      We heard her whooping with excitement and turned to see her paddling for a pretty enormous wave. Her arms churned hard against the water and she rose up over the mountain of blue just before it broke, disappearing over the lip.

      “The thing is,” he said, “I knew her when she was just a damaged kid.”

      We stopped walking and stood still for a moment, facing the water. Dannika was paddling farther out, now, working hard to get beyond the breakers, where the ocean got smooth and glassy.

      “What do you mean, damaged?” I asked.

      “Hold on,” he said. “I’ll explain in a sec. First I want to show you something.” He took my hand and led me down the beach a little ways. Feeling his big, warm fingers closed over mine reminded me of being a child, walking with my father, feeling safe and enclosed.

      We paused when we came to a cliff that jutted clear down to the edge of the water. The waves were crashing against the slick, barnacle-encrusted point. Small pebbles popped and sizzled as the receding tide dragged them backward.

      When the wave had receded completely, Coop cried, “Go now!” and pushed me forward. Without thinking, I dashed across the rocky sand, past the sharp apex of the cliff, and then the next wave was sweeping up toward me, roaring like a wild animal. But Coop had timed it perfectly and I managed to curve around the point, then run away from the water so that it only licked at my toes, the spray misting the hem of my skirt. I laughed like a little kid.

      Coop appeared a few seconds later, his jeans rolled up, but his wave was bigger and he didn’t quite manage to escape it. He looked so cute running hard up the beach toward me, the foam surging around his ankles, getting his cuffs wet. If I could just look at him the rest of my life, I’d be happy, I told myself. Before I could let the impact of that thought sink in, he ran right for me and hugged me so hard that my toes dangled in the air. He kissed me; we were both giggling and I could feel the vibration of our laughter in his lips.

      “Here.” He put me down and led me farther away from the water. Scanning the beach with his eyes, he said, “There it is. God, I haven’t been here in years.”

      We were in a little cove, surrounded by a half circle of bluffs about thirty feet high. There, at the deepest part of the crescent-shaped beach, the sheer cliffs gave way to a small, dark cave. As we got closer I could smell the damp, slightly rotten odor of seaweed decomposing in the salty air. I hesitated at the edge where the sunlight turned abruptly into a cool envelope of shade, but Coop tugged at my hand again and soon we were sitting together in the shadows.

      “I used to come here all the time,” he said.

      “By yourself?”

      “Sometimes,” he said. “Or with friends.”

      “With Dannika?” It came out all whispery and sort of scared. I couldn’t look at him.

      He was studying my profile; I could feel his eyes on my face. “Yeah, or Phil and Joni.” He touched my hair. “It’s the pirates’ hideout. Top secret.”

      “I’m not much of a pirate,” I admitted. “I get seasick. You sure I’m allowed to be here?”

      “You underestimate yourself.”

      We sat there for a while, watching the waves crash against the sand. We couldn’t see Dannika from in there, and I was glad.

      “I just really love how it feels in here, you know? Like a secret fort.”

      “Yeah.” It seemed kind of dank and smelly to me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to say so.

      Coop took out his pipe and lit it. Did I ever mention how much I love his pipe? I mean I know smoking’s a despicable habit, and I should hate everything about it, but when he smokes that pipe it just pushes every anachronistic, sentimental button I’ve got—and you know I’ve got a lot of those. I mean, how many guys under the age of eighty smoke one of these babies? Every time he lights it, I feel like we’re in an Ingmar Bergman film.

      “Dannika’s not what she seems to be,” he said. I snuck a quick glance at him; he was squinting at the horizon, a serious look on his face. He puffed on the pipe a few more times to get it going. “When I met her freshman year she was skinny and СКАЧАТЬ