Summer Skies and Ocean Eyes

It was strange to be sharing the beach with Tommy again. Only three nights of being alone had passed, but I kept expecting him to get up and sprint off, or somehow dissolve into the sand right beside me like a mirage.

Time passed slow as we sat there, falling into some sort of trance buzzed into us by the waves. There was nothing I could say or do that would give Tommy that extra little bump toward talking, so I bit my bottom lip and tried to convince myself that I could be patient.

He shifted in the sand beside me, the only movement he had made since I arrived. Sitting up straighter, a muscle in my neck strained as I whipped my head to face him.

And still nothing. He sat there like one of Gandhi’s followers in prayer.

I’m patient, I’m patient, I’m patientI’mpatientI’mpatientpatientpatientpatient, I vehemently reminded myself, feeling like I was about to explode from waiting. Slouching down once more, I moodily poked my finger into the sand in front of me.

“This definitely isn’t easy.”

Every part of me sat at full attention at the burst of his voice in the dewy night air. It sounded cracked and stuffy, like he was on the verge of getting a cold. Tommy was staring straight ahead: contours of his face lit in an eerie moonlight gray. He gulped, it sounded louder than the current in front of us.

“I know.” I silently urged him to go on. Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around them. I bit my tongue and took a deep breath of salty air through my nose to keep myself from chattering, asking questions—anything to get him going.

My hard work paid off.

“You know, I’ve never felt so guilty before, than when you walked out of that shed.” His voice was low, like he was torn halfway between wanting me to hear it and wanting it to be carried away by the waves.

Mouth twisting in discomfort at the thought, I tried to turn it into an encouraging expression to help him continue. Not like he was paying attention to what I was doing, anyway.

“I watched you run away through that window by the sink, and I knew I fucked up. Big time.” The struggle he had admitting it rose through his voice like oil on water. “I...panicked. It seemed like everything was rushing in at once and I, I shouldn’t have done—that.”

He looked at me for a fraction of a second before pointedly returning his gaze to the ocean. “You just- you freak me out.”

“I freak you out?” It shot out of my mouth before I could stop it, coming out four pitches higher than my usual voice. Tommy shrugged: his shoulders, feet, and jaw were all starting to nervously twitch.

“Other than Poot, I haven’t, you know.” He motioned with his hands in front of him like that would help explain. “And you move here and you’re all, Calico-like, and suddenly I’m telling you about Drew and I haven’t done that with anyone else and-”

My eyes opened more and more as he continued to ramble.

“It was so ridiculous how easy it was to talk and be with you and you have those big brown eyes and-” Tommy finally cut himself off at the mention of my eyes. His mouth was still slightly open, like he was hoping his last words would somehow crawl back inside. Sighing once he realized it wasn’t possible, Tommy’s shoulders hunched as he hung his head between them. “And in the shed, you freaked me out.”

Now he was waiting for me to talk, and of course I was absolutely speechless. I tried to think of what I had been biting back before, but everything came up blank. Stumbling through it, I managed to recover something that resembled a sentence.

“Tommy. For you, I’m here and I, sorry I freaked you out, but, I’m here.” Truly cringe-worthy. His head bobbed in a nod as he stared at the sand in front of him.

“I know that. And really...I kind of, I you know, appreciate it. It’s just that I haven’t had someone ever do something like this-” He gestured toward the ocean “-before. It’s like I don’t know what to make of it, or how to handle this. It’s new and—intimidating.”

I found my voice again. “I think talking to me is one way to handle it.”

With every wave that came in, the sand in front of it would fill with water and sparkle in the moonlight. Turning smooth and glimmering for that one moment, it would return to normal once the wave retreated.

“Y-you have to understand. It’s not like—I can suddenly just-” Tommy’s words came out stuttering, not quite able to catch his voice. He stopped mid-attempt, hands falling to the ground in a defeated way.

“That’s okay.” I leaned toward him, reaching out to put my hand on his shoulder. Halfway there, it was like a jolt went through my arm as I remembered what had happened last time. Hand retreating, I clenched it tightly with my other one in my lap. “It’s okay.”

Tommy had seen my hand withdraw, and turned his face to me. His long eyelashes blocked part of the moon’s glow, sending little slivers of shadows down to cheeks. I realized I may never get over the way his eyes were. They were so hard to read, and had a tendency of making me feel like I was falling right into them.

“Why did he do that?” I asked, urging my voice to take on something louder than a whisper. We both knew what I was talking about. Tommy tore his eyes away, sullenly looking down as the tendons in his jaw flexed. I held my breath and waited.

He took his time with replying. Fifteen separate waves came into the shore in the time between. “We just got in a fight. About something stupid. Stuff like this is usually my fault.”

“It’s not your fault he hits you.” An ache in my heart had begun to swell. “No one deserves that.”

Tommy gave a soft laugh, though I doubted he found it funny at all. “If I just shut up and do whatever he wants, then it’s usually not as bad. I used to be really good at avoiding my dad, when I was little. Like hide and seek. If I could stay out of his way until he calmed down or got back to normal, I’d win.

“But ever since Drew died, I get so angry myself, and I can’t play the stupid game anymore. It’s dumb. It used to be Drew who talked back and got the extra shove. As bad as it could get, he liked to see just how far he could push Dad. Maybe I’m just trying to make up for that.”

It was the most Tommy had ever told me about his dad. A dose of anger bubbled in my stomach: anger with Mr. Rose and also with Tommy for talking about it like matter-of-fact.

“He has no right,” I darkly said, brushing my eyes across his face to look for some kind of reaction. All he did was give a dead sigh. “Why are you still living there? Why haven’t you got any sort of help?”

“It’s hard to explain. In fact, I can’t explain it, that’s why I keep it to myself. Other’s can’t understand the situation.” His words formed a brick wall.

“Try to explain,” I ordered, not able to keep the frustration out of my words. Tommy tucked his legs tighter to his chest.

“Calico. It’s not black or white. Or simple. He’s still my dad. He taught me how to ride a bike, and bought me my first soccer ball. It’s not like my dad is some kind of monster all the time.” Tommy took a moment to think of how to continue. “He’s still family. It’s all I’ve known.”

“You’re defending him,” I grumbled, though I really was trying hard to see it from his perspective. No matter how I looked at it, I still couldn’t feel anything but contempt for Mr. Rose.

“Okay, you want a more practical answer?” Tommy asked, sounding a little annoyed. “I have one more year of high school until I can go to college, get a job, then live on my own and never have to put up with my parents unless it’s on my own terms. But without them, I have no college fund. Which means that in the end, I’d have no real escape. In perspective, a year isn’t so bad.”

Tommy was quiet, and I barely caught what he said next. “That was our plan.”

“Who’s plan?” I couldn’t wait for an answer. His logic was off—twisted. It stung to know how much he believed in all of this. Poot had been right, he had a way of making excuses. “What are you going to do when your dad seriously hurts you?”

“Cuts and bruises always fade. It’s something to suck up and get past.” Tommy gave me a tired, cold smile. I morosely sighed, dropping my chin to my chest in defeat. He wasn’t budging an inch tonight, but that didn’t mean I was going to give up.

“Speaking of cuts...” He trailed off, facing me as he changed the conversation. His calloused fingers carefully held my chin, turning my cut cheek toward himself. With his other hand, he lightly brushed his fingers across it as I tried to look unaffected. “How’s it feeling?”

“It’s okay, still a little sore. It had been pretty deep.” My gaze was fixed on him: his eyes were focused on my cut before they slid over to mine.

“It was definitely bad timing a couple days ago,” he said as if speaking to himself. I frowned, having the impulse to wrap my arms around him, touch him: pull him closer. The feeling of his hands on me sends my stomach into twists.

“What?” I asked, pressing my hands against my legs to keep them from doing anything rash. His gorgeous lips were parted, I found myself subconsciously watching them, feeling my pulse bump below my ears.

“Nothing,” he murmured, then turned my chin a bit more. Tommy leaned forward, and as my eyes were watching the boardwalk, I felt his mouth press against my cut in the lightest way. A feeling, whatever it was, reverberated all the way to my fingertips and toes. “I’m sorry.”

With my lungs tightening without breath, Tommy let go of me and stood up, putting his hands into his pockets. Stricken, I wondered how one stupid, frustrating boy could make my whole body react like that.

“Bye Calico.”

Then, for the first time since we starting coming here, Tommy departed before I did, leaving me with heavy thoughts and a thudding heart.

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

The next couple days, everything gradually started getting back to normal between Poot, Tommy, and I—whatever normal had been. Sometimes there was a slight rift that passed between the boys, but it always faded before becoming worth acknowledging. We were all trying our best to move on.

School was going to start in a month. Or, at least, that’s what people kept saying to me. No matter how many times Emily explained how their class periods worked, or how many days in a row I had to flitter back and forth between Naples High School to fill out paperwork, I still felt like I was going back to Michigan in the fall. It was surreal in a way that I probably wouldn’t begin to grasp until I was actually done with my first week.

At least I could find some sort of solace that I had friends going into the new school year.

Of which all three of them were now urging me further and further into the ocean.

“Hm,” I loudly muttered. My fingers gripped onto the sides of the surfboard, I could feel the whole thing rise and fall with every wave that pumped beneath me. The wetsuit top Emily had loaned me felt like tight leather against my chest. It had been a mistake to trust the tiny girl when she said it would stretch.

“Is that a good ‘hm,” or a bad ‘hm?’” Poot asked from where he laid on his surfboard beside me. He had to paddle against the strength of the water to keep himself near: arms flexing with each pull.

I looked down at the board my stomach was pressed against. Emily and Poot had been trying to teach me back on the beach how to stand up on one of these things. Tommy had sat off a comfortable distance in the sand, making me feel no less peculiar and awkward as he laughed and shook his head at my shaky learning.

As dumb as I had felt practicing on the sand, it was nothing compared to the cluelessness I felt now bobbing in the water. It seemed like standing on one of these things while riding a gush of water was physically impossible.

“I haven’t quite decided yet.” I wiggled my body, trying to completely forget I was floating—pretending that my board was back on the beach.

“Calico, how about you grow a pair and take on a wave already?” Tommy called, paddling up to the two of us. Emily, who was probably the best surfer out of the three of them, was already further out at sea, catching the mediocre waves as they broke.

Poot sat up on his board, a leg hanging off each side as he laughed at my expression.

“Tommy, how about you shut up and...just- take-” I stuttered, horrible at comebacks. This only made the two of them laugh harder, and Tommy paddled off to join Emily. Scowling, I huffed, sitting up to straddle my own board.

“So,” Poot said, staring off at Tommy. The murky soup of a sky reflected gray against the water, giving a sickly tone to his skin. “Tommy actually seems really okay today.”

I nodded, the two of us watching him stretch as he waited for a better wave to roll in. For my benefit, my friends had chosen a section of beach with waves that would be easier for me to learn on. Emily and Tommy looked bored out there.

“If by okay, you mean an asshole, then yes,” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes at Poot to cover the guilt. It didn’t feel right to gauge his progress and mood, but at least I had someone to talk about it with.

“That’s Tommy. He still acts like he’s in elementary school when it comes to the girl he likes.” Poot fondly shook his head as if Tommy were his offspring. Drops of water from his curling blonde hair flung this way and that.

My heart charged at my ribcage. I let what he had said settle into the air before I tilted my head at him, squirming my toes in the warm water. “What?”

Was Poot saying what I thought he was saying? The girl he likes? As in friends, or more than friends, or even kinda less than a normal friend but still kinda likes? The garble continued to make a mess in my mind until Poot sighed, looking down at his board.

“I mean, it’s not like we talk about it that much. But he’s said some stuff.”

“What?” I only knew how to say one word. It was stupid, the way I felt this all-encompassing whoosh of excitement. My breath paused within my lungs, like I knew the small hope that Tommy liked me could be crushed in any moment.

“He really likes you.” Poot couldn’t look at me, turning a little uncomfortably stiff from where he sat on his board. I didn’t know what to say as my stomach plummeted in an oddly thrilling way. It wasn’t until the initial wave of elementary-like happiness had washed over me when I remembered Poot.

“Poot,” I carefully said, remembering the confused sensation that had overcome me that day playing flag football at the beach. “I don’t-”

“Which is totally okay.” He wouldn’t let me finish, obviously wanting to beat me to the punch. “Because I think it’s really good for him. You’re really good for him. I haven’t seen him act like this in a long time.”

Poot’s eyes were dazzling against his tanned skin as he turned them to me, mustering up a sincere smile. Slowly, he started regaining that confident assuredness I knew him for. “I mean, I had a little crush on you, sure. But I don’t think it’s anything compared to what he feels.”

The tone was teasing, as if everything was really okay. I didn’t press him any further as I felt the heat in my stomach grow, spreading to my face.

“You don’t know that for sure,” I mumbled. Tommy was like that puzzle Griffin and I had finished a couple days ago, but worse. Every time I felt like I had found a piece that fit, it shifted shape with vengeance.

“I think I know Tommy better than you.” Poot paddled a little closer. I anxiously cleared my throat, looking up at the mottled sky. “And I don’t mean to make things weird, or more difficult, I just wanted to let you know, since...you know.”

Yeah. The hand-holding. The kisses. The gentle touches. I knew.

I shook my head, wishing that I could go back to worrying about how I was going to stand on the surfboard. This subject was a lot harder to chew, and at least a couple minutes ago, all I had been worried about was looking like even more of an idiot.

“Look.” Poot tried again, recognizing my absolute fail at using words. “I may be completely wrong about the whole thing with Tommy. Which I’m not. But if I was, then it would be...easier now, right?”

“Easier. Right.” I thankfully smiled at him, doing my best to shake off the blundering situation.

“Calico! C’mon! Get your lazy ass on a wave!” Tommy yelled, that chastising tone of annoyance working its way through his voice. In a moment like this, it was incredibly difficult to think he might like me more than a friend.

“Shut! Up!” I called back. Poot lowly chuckled, nodding his head toward his friend.

“You can do this, Cal. You can’t live in Florida without learning how to surf.” He settled back down on his stomach, beginning to paddle out to Tommy and Emily. I shook out my arms, trying to remind myself that to learn something new, you have to fail at it first. I was going to fall, and I was going to look stupid, but eventually: I was going to get this.

I was.

Pep-talking myself, more than just about surfing, I swam against the soft waves. Tommy, Poot, and Emily were waiting as I got closer, all amused with how slow I was going. When I finally reached them with aching arms, further away from the beach than I had ever been, I sat up on my board. “Let’s do this.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼

At first I thought that I was still dreaming. My dream had shifted seamlessly from being in a world of my favorite book, Ella Enchanted, to Tommy standing in the middle of my room.

I looked up at him, groggily blinking as I slowly started to realize I wasn’t dreaming anymore. I could feel the plush, warm weight of my blankets, and the brush of my hairs on my forehead—stirred from the ceilingfan.

Jerking to a sitting position, I scared Tommy, making him yelp and tumble back. Mouth completely agape, I stared at him, willing my sleepy brain to connect thoughts. “Whaa-”

Tommy agitatedly shook his head at me as he walked toward my bed. He had taken off his tennis shoes and left them by the sliding door, his socks completely muffled his footsteps.

“Whayodoin?” Apparently my tongue was still half-asleep as I tried to ask him what he was doing.

“You didn’t come to the beach tonight,” he whispered, crossing his arms as he stared down at me. I rubbed my eye with the palm of my hand, frowning as I tried to grip on to the fact that he was here, in my room, at 2:31 in the morning.

“No.” I sounded like I had tiny rocks in my throat. “I guess I fell asleep. I was exhausted from surfing with you guys all day.”

Even though I had only ended up catching two waves from the hours we had spent in the water, I felt that qualified to be concerned as surfing. It was a lot harder than it looked—every part of my body ached in a way reminiscent of my first day at conditioning.

Tommy shook his head, sitting down on the edge of my bed without waiting for an invitation. The two of us exchanged a long gaze, lost in our own thoughts. I was transfixed by ever part of him. Like the sharp angle of his jaw that smoothes into a slender neck, or the natural way his lips slightly curl up at the end, even when he’s not smiling.

I wondered what he thought about when he looked at me like this, illuminated by the moonlight glowing into my room.

“Calico, you look so gimpy right now. Your hair is a complete mess.” I could catch a hint of chuckle in his low voice as he reached over and tugged on a piece of my hair. “Got a nice afro going on.”

Ah. So that was what he thought about. Fantastic.

I snatched my hairband from the nightstand and wrapped said afro into a ponytail. “So you came here to sneak into my room, tell me I obviously didn’t go to the beach, then insult my hair?”

His lips quirked up as I turned on my bedside lamp, tired of straining to look at him in the dark. He was wearing the usual: a pair of basketball shorts, a white t-shirt, and of course, the gray hoodie. I thought about Jon, most likely asleep in the next room, and my promise to him. But that was all-too-quickly erased as Tommy continued to talk.

“Pretty much.” He shrugged. “I was waiting down there for a while. You could have at least called and told me that-”

“Wait,” I interrupted with a whisper, holding up a hand. A devious smile filled my lips, something that made him instinctively start to lean away. “Were you worried about me?”

Tommy’s mouth dropped open as his eyes darted around, trying to think of an excuse. Not giving him a chance, I theatrically held my hands to my face, letting out a gasp.

“You were! Tommy Rose was worried about me!” I exclaimed as quietly as I could, leaning closer to him as I teased. Tommy shook his head, turning his face away even though I had already seen his smile.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” he grumbled, “You would have done it for me.”

Embarrassed at being caught in the act of doing something nice and selfless, he continued to look the other way. Biting my lip, I happily shook my head. Having him so close again was nice, he smelled like the ocean and laundry detergent.

I adjusted myself so that I was leaning against the wall that was behind my bed. Tommy looked back at me as I did this, carefully watching like I was constellation he was trying to connect the dots to.

“I should have called. Sorry,” I finally said. Truthfully, I had felt that he wouldn’t care that much. I was sure that if I had called, he would have played it off in his own indifferent way. He probably would have flatly told me it didn’t matter and that I must have thought pretty highly of myself for calling to inform him.

Tommy shrugged, easily scooching beside me so that our hips were touching. He pulled the covers up, sliding his warm legs beside mine as if we did this every night. My breath expanded in my chest. I tried my best to calm down, worried that he’d feel the thudding of my heart and know how nervous I became every time he was so damn close to me.

“You did a good job today,” Tommy whispered, low and gravelly, “Surfing.”

I looked at him, our shoulders pressed against each other in an incredibly wonderful way. “Are you being sarcastic?”

He rolled his eyes, tilting his face so that it was noticeably closer to mine. “No. It takes time to learn. My first couple times out when Drew was teaching me ended in disaster. I barely ever made it to my feet for weeks.”

I wondered if there would ever come a time when I wouldn’t feel that jolt go through me every time someone mentioned Drew.

“Of course, I was about five at the time. Aren’t you supposed to be an athlete or something?” Tommy added, unable to resist annoying me. I puffed out my cheeks and sputtered out the air, giving him a scowl before an accidental yawn escaped my mouth.

“Well, at least you’re saying I was better than a five year-old. Because that’s way better than the age I felt every time I bit that water.” Without a thought, I pleased my head on his shoulder. He was like the moon to me, I always felt so drawn into him. The mindless want to be closer always filled me when he was around.

I felt his muscles initially stiffen, it took a couple heartbeats before they loosened. Then, I felt his cheek press against the top of my head. I grinned, I was so pleased.

“You’ll get it eventually.” His voice vibrated through my head as his cheek moved.

My eyes started to droop as we sat there, feeling each other move with every breath that we took. The rise and fall of his shoulders were as steady and solid as the ocean waves coming in.

My hand reached up and smoothed over his torso, a daring move that was muted by my half-asleep state. But he didn’t slide away. He let me slide my fingers over his warm, strong body before gently holding on to the curve of his side.

“Cal?” Tommy’s quiet voice barely stirred the surface of my sleep.

“Hm?”

“I’m going to stay here for a little bit. Is that okay?”

I took in a deep breath of him, enjoying the amazing way he felt beneath me. “Yeah.”

☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼☼