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Life’s a Beach

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Well, I was supposed to write about what I did over the summer…

I’ll be 47 this winter, but I was going through some old things, to get rid of, and I found something that I’d written when I was young.

10, to be exact, but it was 1984, and I was reading 1984. (I read 2001 in 2001 one, too.) Our dad had gotten this wild hair up his butt, and he wanted to go down to see the Gulf of Mexico. So, mom loaded us up in the car, and he drove the truck with my brother.

My older brother, he was 13 at the time, and when I say that my parents weren’t hippies. I mean that they would be insulted if you called them that. They preferred “Street Freaks,” but then they got married, started having kids, and settled down, a little.

Except my dad still got ideas in his head, and drove us out to see this or that. One year we went out to San Francisco, and Berkeley. He played tour guide, and told us about the sit-in that happened here, or Haight Ashbury. It just looked like a corner, with buildings, just like the college across the bay just looked like a school to me.

So, then we got down to Corpus Christi, and mom wanted to get a hotel, for the night. Dad said that “We can sleep under the stars,” but mom insisted “It’s just one night, and we’ve been camping out for days, I need a shower,” and finally talked some sense into him.

Me, and Arlo shared a room, and a bathroom, but had 2 separate beds. Mom stayed up, and watched Donahue on the TV before they went to bed. Now, Arlo and me had shared tents, and sometimes even rooms before on road trips, but this time, after we closed the doors, and turned off the lights, he sounded restless.

I didn’t know what he was doing, but I could hear him breathing, and his covers moving in the dark. The rhythm of the rustling was steady, and kept up with sounds I heard through the headboard. I didn’t know what those were either, but mom, and dad’s bed was right up against the same wall, and I figured he knew what they’re doing later.

Finally, he stopped rustling the covers, and settled down. His breathing slowed down too, and then the noises from behind the wall stopped too, so I fell asleep.

The next day we got up, and got dressed, packed up our dirty clothes, and even went to the laundry room, but when Arlo got up, he went to the bathroom. I cracked my eyes just in time to see his underwear sticking out, but I had to pee, so I got up too.

He wouldn’t let me in, and said “In a minute,” but he was in there a lot longer, and when I listened to the door, I heard him breathing funny again. Then, he grunted, and stopped. A minute later I heard him peeing, and started dancing with my knees together, because that just made it worse. Finally, he let me in, and I peed so I could get dressed, and go out to the laundry room with mom.

Dad took Arlo over to the Dennys to pick up breakfast while we listened to the washing machines, and I got bored. “Mom? Arlo’s been acting weird lately.”

“How lately?”

“Well,” I thought back, and put my book down, with my finger to hold my place. “I didn’t notice anything until we left for this trip, but that first night, at the campground in Missouri?”

She nodded, “What did he do?”

“Well, he just went off, alone for a long time before bed, and he told me to go back to the tent, but when he came back.” I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I smelled smoke on his hand, and his breath when he kissed me goodnight. So, I guess he was just sneaking off to go smoking, and didn’t want me following him, but I wouldn’t tattle on him.

“Then, he woke me up early, and went out again, but I went back to sleep. So, I don’t know how long he was gone, or what for.” But I bet he was smoking again. “Then, he did it again in that campsite at Wichita.”

“Wichita Falls, we didn’t go through Kansas this year.”

“Yeah, there he did it again, then in the morning before I got up.” I lowered my voice, for no reason, being the only 2 in the laundromat this early in the morning. ‘i think, he might be smoking.’

That didn’t explain his weird breathing, and the funny noises he made with the covers last night, but what did I know about smoking?

So, then they came back with a big platter full of pancakes, another one full of scramble eggs, bacon, 2 types of sausage, and 3 slices of toast. Arlo ran around with a bag full of butters, and syrup, no margarine in our house. That’s all full of hydroginated oils, and not real butter, so mom wouldn’t buy it, even if it was cheaper by the tub.

So, I just put it out of my mind, and we folded up the laundry in the basket. Finally, it was time to drive out to the beach, but that was on Padre Island, and we parked the car with most of our stuff in the back, so we could climb in the back of the truck.

With the camp gear, and some clothes, but not all of them. Just enough to stay the night, and drive back to the car the next day. Because the pickup truck had 4×4, so he could drive way way down the island, farther than anybody else would go, and we had the beach to ourselves.

“Well,” dad left it in gear, and got out. “Here we are.” He already had his shirt off, and a good tan, but his left arm was even tanner from driving down here the last couple of days. So, he just untied his shorts, and shucked them off, in the shadow of the truck, so he didn’t burn his feet on the hot sand, and put his flip-flops back on.

Naked, mom brought swimsuits for her and me, but she didn’t put her’s on, so I didn’t have to, either. Arlo ran down to the water, buck naked, and barefoot, but started hopping before he got to the water, where he could cool off his feet.

I got into his clothes and stuff, to see if I could find his cigarettes, and matches. Not because I wanted to get him in trouble, but mostly to see if I was right. Then again, dad went off in the corner to smoke by the ash tray, and mom asked him if he wanted to go smoke.

He denied it, and said “No, I’m not a smoker, mom.” So she got up, and went over to talk to dad. He gave her the butt, but she got lipstick on it, so he let her finish it, and that was that. Big deal, so he was smoking, he probably wouldn’t even get in trouble for it, so why would he have to lie?

“You’re a teenager now,” she told him, “So I understand if you want to try new things,” but he insisted.

“Mom, I’m not smoking, god!”

So then, I stopped pretending to look for my swimsuit, which turned up right away, right where I left it, and hopped out of the truck to go down, and cool off.

“Hey, Arlo.” He came back out, through the waves, while I waded out to meet him, and it wouldn’t be the first time we skinny dipped together. In fact, the only reason we had swimsuits, and trunks is so we could go out to the pool, if they had one. That just avoided answering too many questions.

No, we’re not Nudists, but clothes don’t grow on trees, you know? It’s perfectly natural, but usually it’s the Christians that think nudity is a sin, because of some talking snake magic trees baloney story. No, I’m pretty sure there was something wrong with that fruit, so Adam and Eve were tripping on something, are you sure it wasn’t a cactus, or something? I never tried mescaline, or even peyote buttons, but if you heard voices from the sky, and snakes talking, I bet something like that is what happened.

“What’s up?” He finally caught up with me, about waist deep in the water.

“I’m not trying to get you in trouble, but I asked mom why you’ve been acting so weird lately, and she thought maybe you’re smoking, or whatever. So, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, so that’s what it was all about this morning.”

“Yeah, she smelled smoke on your hands when you got back to the tent, in Wichita Falls. So, that’s why she thought you’re smoking, is all.”

“Huh, well. Okay, but only after sex.”

I snickered, “You’re not having sex.”

“No, not yet, but. It still feels just the same when I.” He pumped his fist. “You know.”

“Oh!” I got it, and looked down, “So that’s what you’re doing in bed last night, and this morning, and whenever you run off at the campsites.”

I saw it, or just the end of it sticking up, but I thought it was floating. Until a wave started coming up behind him. So, the water pulled back to leave it high, and dry, but it just stayed sticking up. He looked over my shoulder, and I looked back, but mom, and dad already had the parawing set up. So, they laid out in the shade, reading a book together, and didn’t pay any attention to us.

Now, I don’t want to make fun of them or anything, but they’re. Well, fat. They lay around the house all day naked too, and even at the pool with swimsuits on. Some of the other kids made jokes about them being beached, and this one time dad got up to do a cannonball off the diving board, and this bully boy called him “Shamu!” before he floated back up where he could hear him.

Because he was a coward, and he knew my dad could whup his ass to hear him talk about him that way.

“Hhuh!” Then, I heard Arlo breathing, loud enough to hear him over the waves, but he looked up, and let go of his pisser. “Uh, sorry.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. Uh.” I remembered what mom said this morning. “You’re a teenager now, and it’s perfectly natural that you want to try new things, but if it makes you want to go smoke.” I lowered my voice, and looked back at our parents. Still beached, and reading a book together. ‘i’ll try to cover for you.’ I whispered back.

“Cool, thanks.” So, I just stood there, with my legs in the water, and my butt hanging out over it, while he looked right between my legs, and started yanking his crank again, so I watched it.

“Ope!” He covered up his mouth, and squeezed his eyes real tight, but his fingers slowed down, and he didn’t even grip it as hard as he started. Pinched between 2 fingers, and his thumb, but he didn’t have to, it was already twitching, and then it started dripping.

“Snh!” He snorted, and let his hand back down. “Huh,” so he could breathe, and suck his tummy back in for another breath “Huh!” He sat down in the water, and caught his breath, while I saw the thick white drops, blend into the bubbles, which popped when the edge of the wave rolled over.

I didn’t see what the big deal was, about the Gulf of Mexico. I mean, by then, I’d seen the Atlantic ocean, the Pacific, San Francisco bay, the Chesapeake, and Potomac. This one year, we went out to Washington, and the Smithsonian. Then we got a rental boat to watch the fireworks over the river. Now that was a trip to write about, but this?

There wasn’t even barely any waves, the Kansas City fireworks were okay, but the Missouri river sure wasn’t anything like the Mississippi, nor even the Potomac, and my brother started whacking off, to ejaculation.

I sure couldn’t write about that in school. So, I went back to the truck, and dried off. Arlo grabbed a cigarette from dad’s pack on the dashboard, and I hit the horn with my elbow. “Oops!”

Dad got up, and looked in the open window. “What was that for?”

“Sorry, I accidentally hit it with my notebook.” I held it up, on the steering wheel, while Arlo ran off behind the dunes to smoke his cigarette.

Dad grabbed the pack, and asked “Wheres the matches?” I shrugged, and hit the lighter in the ash tray, but dad had to go back, and get his keys to turn it on.

So then, I wrote it down anyway. I just wouldn’t turn it in when I got back to school.

That night, we shared a tent again, but Arlo tried to get up, and sneak out. Mom, and dad where still up, sitting on a log of driftwood. So, he had to crawl back in his sleeping bag, but before he did, he shucked off his pants again, and I saw him poking out the front of his underwear.

So, it was no surprise when his sleeping bag started rustling, and he started breathing funny again. “Huh!” So, I unzipped my sleeping bag, and then reached out to zip open his. He stopped, and leaned his head out, right next to my ear.

‘What are you doing?’ he whispered.

“Can I try it?” I felt under the covers, and touched his arm. Followed it down to his hand, and felt it, still pinched between his fingers.

Now, I met a lot of hippies. Not ex-street freaks that wanted to settle down, and raise some kids in the suburbs, but real hippies that they still knew, and visited when we’re in town. Maybe on our way out, or the way back from one of our road trips, but a lot of them had kids, and there was this one.

I forget her name, it wasn’t Amethyst, but one of those flowers that sounded like Amethyst to me. No, not Chrysanthemum, that was her little sister, Chrys. Amy something, Amaranth? Yeah, I think that was it, but the point is she had a boyfriend, she gave hand jobs to, and blowjobs, but she didn’t go all the way.

She just told her sister Chrys and me all about it. So, what else was I going to do, but unzip the sleeping bags the rest of the way, so I could fold his back, and get a good look at it. Hard, and ready for action!

“Huh!” A little hairy too. I mean, not real real hairy, but not completely hairless either. Not so much on his balls, but a lot more up around it, between it and his belly button, but he showed me how to do it earlier. Out at the water, in broad daylight, staring at my crotch still dripping with sea foam running down my legs.

At least the water was a lot warmer than Monterey, Virginia Beach, or even Myrtle, but not hotter than Fort Lauderdale, or Jacksonville, just right. So his balls didn’t shrivel up too much, but this time, he was nice, and warm from the sleeping bag. So they hung down, where I could juggle them up with my fingers, and feel around under it.

“That’s the sweet spot,” Amy told us.

“SNH!” He covered his mouth, and sniffed real loud, but his eyes squeezed shut, and his feet kicked out of the sleeping bag.

She also told us it was yummy. So, I leaned down quick, before it started running out, and stuck it in my mouth to suck it. “Mh, hn!”

“Snh!” He tasted salty, but not his stuff. It wasn’t tangy, or anything. Honestly, I expected it to taste, well. Yummier, I guess either Amy lied, or maybe her boyfriend drinks pineapple juice, and doesn’t smoke, I don’t know.

“Huh!” I sat up, and wiped my mouth. “Huh!”

“You swallowed it?” Arlo shook his head, amazed.

“Yeah? You don’t want it going all over the place for mom to find tomorrow, when we go back to wash the sleeping bags.

“Huh!” He just pulled his over, and cuddled up, so I pulled the zipper for him, and lay down.

“Amy?”

“Yeah?” It’s short for Amethyst, bye the way. That’s why it was so confusing, meeting a girl named Amaranth, or whatever, only also called Amy.

“Huh, where’d you hear about, the sweet spot?”

“Oh, this girl. You remember the trip out to the Smithsonian, and the house we stayed at?”

“The Victorian one?”

“No, the Mennonite one, with the Christian commune, in Pennsylvania.”

“Oh yeah. What about it?”

“Well, one of the girls on the girl’s side.” Mennonites built it, so there was 2 upstairs, and two stairs. One to the boy side, and one to the girl’s side, so the men, and women didn’t sleep together. They weren’t like, Puritan Christians, they were like Hippy Christians, but still. They believed that men, and women shouldn’t sleep together, until they’re married, even brother and sister. “She was a teenager, and she had a boyfriend, so she told me about it.” So, they had to run off to the woods or something, to play hanky panky with any of the farm boys near bye.

“Oh, goodnight.”

I leaned over to kiss him. “Goodnight.” Then, I zipped back up, and went to sleep.

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