The Boy Who Wore Boat Shoes

24⎜The Boat

24⎜The Boat

After leaving the condo, Ari led me outside to the parking lot where Houston’s truck was absorbing the Californian morning sun. She went into the backseat and extracted one of my suitcases and her own backpack. I had only taken one of my bags into the condo the previous day—the one that contained all my bare essentials (ie: phone, phone charger, computer, computer charger, toothbrush, toothpaste, glasses, an extra pair of clothes, three pairs of shoes, and some moisturizer), so the rest of my belongings were still in Houston’s truck. Ari hadn’t bothered to take her backpack inside yesterday, so I just assumed that since it was her dad’s condo, everything she needed was already there.

           She handed me my luggage and instructed me to pull out whatever I’d need for a day at the beach. We were both still wearing our pajamas (meaning that I was shirtless and Ari was Ari). I picked out my swim trunks, a short sleeved white button-down, some sunglasses, and my boat shoes. Ari just swung a strap of her bag over a single shoulder, and then returned my gear to the truck. She then instructed me to go change in a random public restroom that was conveniently located by the condominium building. I complied, risking putting my tetanus shot to good use, and changed into real clothes for the day.

           When I emerged from the small place filled with rotting metal and more than twelve health code violations, I met Ari outside. She was dressed in a worn, off-white T-shirt that said “STANFORD” across the chest, and came down to her upper thighs, completely swallowing her up. I was pretty sure that she had shorts on, but the shirt was so long that I wasn’t entirely positive. On her feet were black flip-flops, and her hair was falling in loose curls over her shoulders, the wind ruffling it slightly. Unlike most girls when they dressed for the beach, Ari Remon didn’t look…overly revealing. I could see her long legs, but that was basically all the detectable skin besides her arms and face that was visible to me. Her top gave her absolutely no shape, but somehow she was still able to look amazing.

           Not even bothering to say a word to me, she just began to walk, and I followed. Considering the fact that her dad’s condo was about as close to the beach as could come without actually being on the beach, it was a pretty short trip. We came to the place of sand and swimsuits that was most commonly associated with the glorious state of California (after Hollywood and Apple, of course). There weren’t that many people on the beach. Just a few scattered everywhere—reading and tanning, texting and tanning, sleeping and tanning, and just plain tanning. But we didn’t stop at the beach with the other pedestrians—no, we kept walking, and continued to do so until we met a series of large rectangles with boats attached to them.

           “Those are docks,” Ari told me, pointing to the long runways made up of planks of wood. I nodded, not saying a word, but rather taking time to process and become aware of my new surroundings. Ari kept strolling along, a strong objective that was concealed from me serving as her main impetus to move forward. Then, we stopped.

           We were at a dock. It had bits of crud dispersed here and there, but Ari didn’t mind. She practically jogged across the extension of artificial land that was bordering the water. When she got to the end, her face illuminated in a way that I had never seen before. She was grinning, but unlike other times when she wore the same expression, this time it reached her eyes. The perpetual desolation often found in those dark brown eyes of hers was no more. She was happy. More than that, she was essentially the quintessence of the positive emotion itself. What made Ari Remon so happy that even her eyes seemed to smile? Well, that would have to be the boat.

           The boat was a good-sized one (though, who was I to really judge what a “good-sized” boat was and what wasn’t?), and it was white. It was larger than Houston’s truck, but not by much, and unlike the gigantic automobile, it was floating on the water. Across the front (well, what I thought was the front) were the words “TEAM TOMMEL” painted in large black letters on the bottom. Inside, the back had some cushions to sit on, and as did the front. Separating the two sections of the boat was a barrier of sorts with a narrow walkway. Chairs that swiveled and the controller consol sat behind the barricade. The boat was nice (but again, what did I know?).