Operation Beautiful

Haley’s dad went back to China the following Tuesday. According to Haley, her parents get along much better than before, and it looks like it might stay that way. Mrs. Waters has arranged for a few interviews in China during the next few months so she can go visit him and Mr. Waters is using up his vacation time to spend a week here as soon as he can. Meanwhile, Emmaleigh and I are having fun together.

“Hey, let’s move, okay? It’s a walk, not a photo shoot!” I call through her shut door.

“You can come in, I’m just finding my bathing suit!” she calls back.

I am broke. And, being broke, I’m taking Emmaleigh on a walk down this place called the “Venice Ocean Front” instead of the movies or dinner or whatever. Apparently the walk is a hub of street vendors and artists as well as being right on the beach. What more could you ask for?

“I hope you don’t want help,” I say, opening her door and sitting on the bed.

“No, no, just stay there.” She riffles through her neatly arranged closet, pulling one suit off the hanger.

“Not that one,” I say before I can stop myself.

“What?” she asks, turning around in disbelief.

“The polka-dotted one,” I say, pointing to the one right next to it.

“Uh...okay?” she pulls the suit out. “You just stay here, I’ll put it on under what I’m wearing and we can go.” She gives me a creeped-out look before she exits the room. “What, have you been going through my clothes?” she asks.

“No. I just...liked that one better when I saw it.”

“But you haven’t seen me wear either,” she says, her voice getting more and more faint as she travels down the hall.

“Well, I’m sorry for having an opinion,” I call after her jokingly. It’s not my fault I liked the polka-dots better. She just laughs and shuts the bathroom door.

“Hey, Corey!” Mark says, coming inside. “I thought I heard your voice. How are you?”

“Good.” I get up to shake his hand. “Emmaleigh and I are going out today. She told you, right?”

“Yeah, she told me. What do you guys have planned?”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a chance to visit the beach yet, so I thought we’d go down to that Venice...Ocean Front...thing. You heard of it?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s a great place for a walk. Watch out for the man who walks on glass, okay?”

“What? He walks on glass?”

Mark shrugs. “Well, he “walks” on glass,” he says, air-quoting the word ‘walks’. “But it’s still fun to watch. Are you guys having dinner out there?”

“Yeah. Packed a picnic basket.”

“Very nice,” he says with a smile. “Well, I’m going to get going. You guys have fun.”

“Corey!” Emmaleigh calls, walking into the room. “Oh, hey dad. Corey’s picking me up for the--”

“Yeah, I know. Just saying hello.” He gives his daughter a hug and walks out of the room.

“What was I going to say?" Emma mutters. “Oh! Can you grab my insulin from the fridge?”

I go over to the fridge and grab her little insulin pen. It comes with it’s own detachable needles. When I get back to the room, she’s hastily shoving a beach towel and sunscreen into her beach-bag.

“Got it.” I go behind her to give her a hug and wave the little pen in front of her nose.

“Yeah. Um, you can put that in my purse.” She opens the little messenger bag designated for diabetes equipment and I put the goods inside. “You put it next to the little icepack, right?” She barely waits for my nod before breaking away. “Where are my sunglasses?” she mutters, distracted.

“For someone who’s room is so neat, you sure are disorganized.”

“Oh, there they are!” she grabs them off her bedside table and turns to mock-glare at me. “Whatever.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go.” I grab Emmaleigh’s hand and pull her out the door, swinging her beach bag over my shoulder.

“Bye, Mark!” I call as we leave the house.

“Have fun!” he calls back. “Make sure to get home by eight!”

***
“So, you’ve never been here, either?” We’re walking along the asphalt path, holding hands and watching all the crazy people around us.

“Nope.” She swings our hands a little. “Hey, look at that guy!”

“Oh, that must be the glass-walking guy your dad said we should watch out for,” I note, leading her over.

We watch him for a few minutes, applauding like everyone else when he succeeds and tipping him before we keep walking.

“Do you want your fortune read?” An old woman asks as we pass. I’m about to say no, but Emmaleigh tugs at my hand.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

I laugh. “Another one of those things you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance?”

She looks down. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Okay, let’s do it. But you’re paying.”

It’s the typical schpeal. Emmaleigh and I are, as every couple that passes this woman must be, soul mates. But Emmaleigh seems happy at the news.

“You know, I could’ve told you that,” I can’t help but say as Emmaleigh pays the woman.

She frowns at me. “Are you saying that to be nice or are you saying that was a waste of two bucks?”

I lean forward to kiss her. “Both.”

“You’re so mean,” she says with a smile. “But nice at the same time. I’m not sure whether to be mad at you or not.”

“I am holding your beach bag and the picnic basket,” I remind her. “I think you should go with not.”

“Oh! Let me take that!” she tries to grab the beach bag, but I don’t let her. “What? You were complaining about it two seconds ago!”

“Yes,” I explain patiently. “Which is precisely why you can’t take it now. It’s a pride thing. Now, if you had offered to take it five minutes ago, that would have been okay.”

“Boys,” she says with a laugh. Her beautiful eyes flicker over to the beach. “Okay, enough crazy people. Let’s go walk on the beach!”

We walk along until we find a nice spot. I lay down the blanket while Emmaleigh takes the picnic basket.

“Water first,” I remind her. “Otherwise we’ll have to wait before we can swim.”

“We’re not going to be swimming!” she laughs. “It’s the ocean!” Her eyes narrow playfully as she smirks. “Someone just wants to see my bathing suit.”

“Not as much as someone wants to see mine,” I tease back. We pretend to glare at each other for a few seconds, both unwilling to admit the truth of the other’s statements.

“Fine,” Emmaleigh says, giving in. “Water first.”

She turns around and removes her shirt and jeans. Well, I would say I was right for going with the polka-dotted one.

“Looking good,” I note, pulling my shirt over my head.

She blushes. “Stop staring at me, you’re making me feel all self conscious.”

I laugh and give her a hug. “Why? You look gorgeous, as usual.” We just stand there for a few moments, enjoying the sun and each other. She lets out a little contented sigh. Well, we don’t want her getting too comfortable. I grab her by the armpits and throw her up in the air, wrapping her legs around my waist and holding them in place.

“What are you doing?” she screeches, grabbing my shoulders to prevent herself from toppling over.

“Going for a swim.”

She lets out a shriek as I run all the way down to the water, going right in.

“It’s so coooold!” she yells, wrapping her arms around me tighter. I just laugh. This was a good idea, Corey. A very good idea.

“No it’s not,” I lie.

“It’s not? It’s not?” She lets go with one hand to splash water in my face. “What do you mean, it’s not?”

“Ah! You got salt in my eye!” I yell, dropping her and putting a hand to my eye-lid.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to--” I cut her off with a deep kiss.

“Just kidding!”

She glares at me. “You jerk!” And the splash fight continues.

We get out of the water, sopping wet and exhausted. But it was definitely worth it.

“Aah! Now I’m hungry!” Emma yells, flopping down onto the beach towel and pulling a smaller one out of her bag. She pats herself dry and looks at me. “You didn’t bring another towel?”

“No,” I say. “But I kind of want a hug.”

“But you’re wet!” She stands up quickly, almost as if she knows what I’m about to do.

“You don’t hug your boyfriend when he’s wet?”

“Not when I’m dry!”

“Hey, don’t be racist!”

“I’m not being racist! How is that racist?”

“You’re discriminating against the...” my words fade as I realize how little water my argument holds. “...the wetter race.”

She laughs. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I’ll show you what doesn’t make sense!” And that’s when I start chasing her around the beach.

“Okay! Okay!” she gasps, holding me at arms length. “You’re dry now. I’ll give you a hug. Just stop--” she takes another big breath. “--chasing me.” Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glowing. I move around her arm and grab her by the waist.

“No, no. I think you owe me a kiss now.”

We sit back down on the beach towel. Emmaleigh checks her blood sugar and proclaims herself “ready to eat.”

“What did you make?” she asks as I reach into the picnic basket.

“Make? What made you think I can cook?”

“I don’t know. The fact that you said you were in charge of food?” she notes, trying to take the basket from me.

“No, no!” I insist. “Let me.” She leans back with an exasperated sigh, eager to see what I brought.

“Pasta,” she says, impressed. “With...is that shrimp?”

“And clams,” I say with a smug grin, measuring exactly one cup of pasta into her plate and then adding a bunch of shrimp and clams on top. Meat has no carbs. “Unlike most guys, I can actually cook.”

“Well,” she jokes, moving next to me and taking the plate. “We’ll see about that.”

“And the verdict?” I ask, surprisingly nervous as she takes the first bite.

“Hmmm...” her face scrunches up. “It could use a little...”

“A little what?”

She leans over and kisses me. “A little kiss. It’s delicious.”

“Very devious,” I say approvingly, serving myself.

“I learn from the best.” She leans her shoulder against my chest and begins eating more. “Mmm...I’m thinking fifty grams?”

“Fifty?” I say. “That’s a little bit more than the packet said, but they usually lie, don’t they?” I think about it for a second. “Sounds all right.”

“Plus I was a little lower than usual from all that running around,” she says with a smile, taking a little more pasta. “So I can eat more. Best date ever.”

I can’t help my own smile. Hey, I just planned the perfect date. Heavens knows it’s not often that I do something perfectly. “Better than the ice-skating date?” I joke.

“You mean the one where I hit you and started crying?” she asks incredulously. “I don’t think that counts as a date.”

“Fine. The movies then?”

“Better.”

“The park?”

“Better.”

“The-”

“Corey! What part of “best date ever” are you having difficulty with?” she asks in exasperation.

“It’s just nice to hear.”

She laughs.

“Hey, Emmaleigh?” I wait until we’ve finished our dinner and taken a bunch of pictures with Em's camera, lying next to one another and watching the sun shift a little lower in the sky.

“Hm?” she shivers a little and moves closer to me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her head on my chest.

“I was thinking...” I take a deep breath and continue. “About next year.”

“Ah. And?”

“I don’t know. I was just thinking about it.”

She chuckles a little, but its humorless. “Then why bring it up?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just been worrying me.”

“Why? Do you know where you’ll be going yet?”

“No. It could be here in LA, it could be in New York or something. Or I could be back in Belgium.” She doesn’t say anything. “Sorry. I always say the wrong thing at the wrong time. It just kinda pops into my head sometimes when we’re having fun like this.”

“It’s okay,” she says. “I think about it sometimes, too. When other people bring it up.”

“Other people bring it up?” I ask, astounded.

She smiles and raises her head to look at me. “Some people are just jealous.”

“Oh. Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, putting her head back down. “Jess and Haley have taught me how to deal with it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently Haley went through worse before.”

“Oh.” This is the first I’ve ever heard of it. “I didn’t know that.”

“Mmm.”

“What do you want to do about it?” I ask, finally.

“About next year?” she pauses, thinking. “Well, my first thought was to have you repeat senior year.” We both laugh a little at that, but then Emmaleigh’s voice grows more serious. “What do you want to do?”

“I can tell you what I don’t want to do,” I say with certainty. “I don’t want to lose this.” She leans forward to give me a kiss.

“Thank you. I was worried you might...want to.”

“Want to?”

“You know, a lot of people break up so that they can have more freedom in college.”

“No,” I tell her, rolling onto my side so I can look her in the eyes. “Absolutely not. The only thing I’m worried about is not getting to see you and us eventually falling apart. I don’t care about any of the random bimbos I meet in college.”

“Bimbos,” she says with a smile. “I see Matt has expanded your vocabulary.”

“Yup,” I agree, lying back down and pulling her closer. “I’ve learned a lot.”

“What if we...just let things be? And deal with all this later?” she asks tentatively. “Or would it make you feel better to deal with it right now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really see a way out of it.”

“Sometimes it’s better to just live in the moment.”

I pull her closer to me, if that’s even possible. “Then, let’s just enjoy this? And figure out all the other stuff later?”

“Good plan. I wish I’d thought of it.”

I smile and let her body heat mingle with mine. We lay there together, basking in the glow of the setting sun. We’ve got time. Mark’s not expecting us back for a while.

“My mom wants to meet you via webcam,” I say quietly, letting the combined heat of Emmaleigh and the sun lull me to sleep.

“I’d love to meet her,” Em replies, her own breathing suddenly calm.

“Hey, Corey?”

“Mm.”

“I think I might love you.”

I lean forward to kiss her.

“I think I might love you, too.”