Simon
"Simon?"
My consciousness slowly returns to me; I squint against the sunlight.
"Simon? Hey, handsome. Wake up."
I smile, recognizing Val's voice, recognizing her gentle touch as she pats my cheek. I open my eyes, and here, she looks like an angel, silhouetted by the warm sun seeping through the windows, eyes warm, welcoming.
I wipe the crud from my eyes, sitting up. "Is it morning already?" I ask. "It feels like I just fell asleep."
"It's almost eleven AM, Simon," Val tells me, and chuckles when she sees the stunned look on my face. "But you were so tired, so I thought I'd let you sleep."
I blink, listening once more to the calm rush of the ocean waves as they kiss the shoreline. The air smells like salt and sea and sand, and I am a little in love with all of it.
"I don't wanna sleep anymore," I say, and she has a second to look at me, brows furrowed, before I reach for her, swinging her onto the bed with me. A laugh escapes her as she lands among the sheets, her hair splaying out underneath her head. I roll over, facing her, my forehead touching hers. "So what do you think? Breakfast, or the beach first?"
"Mm," Val says, thinking for a moment. Then, she grins. "Both."
I change into a T-shirt and the only pair of swim shorts I own, which had taken a fair amount of searching to uncover from my closet considering all the winter clothes they were buried under. Val finds the nearest brunch place to the hotel—as those are the only kinds of places still selling breakfast items when it's nearly afternoon—and we take a brief walk there. Shorts, flip-flops, the sun beating down on the pavement. It feels like a dream, like someone else's life. Surely not mine.
We get breakfast sandwiches and orange juice and fruit and waffles, take it all to-go. I have to hold Val back from the waffles as we're heading back to the hotel. And there, nestled in the white sand, a few feet from the water, we make ourselves a picnic.
It isn't perfect, as our picnic blanket is an old beach towel Val dug out from her basement and we're eating everything out of styrofoam boxes, but it's our own, at least. We somehow managed to find a quiet nook of the beach, where we're the only people for at least twenty feet. I lay back against the towel, knocking my shades down my nose and shutting my eyes.
It would be perfect. All of it—it would be perfect, if only I didn't know the true reason we were here.
It's a constant thought in the back of my head, ceaseless and loud. Have I made a mistake?
Seagulls squawk overhead, the faint melody of children yelling gleefully carrying on the wind. I open one eye, squinting up at Val. She has one hand lifted to her brow, keeping the sun out of her eyes as she gazes out at the sea. The wind plays at her swim cover-up, tossing it this way and that, revealing a tantalizing line of skin up her thighs. I close my eyes again, resting my hands underneath my head.
"Stop staring," Val says then, and I jump a little.
"Who's staring? I wasn't staring."
I glance up in time to see her turn to face me, rolling her eyes grandly. "Hate to break it to you, but you're not subtle at all," she says, shoving me playfully. A look crosses her face then: thoughtful, calculating, hesitant. She asks: "Do you want to swim?"
I remember all the summers we wasted by the pool, all dripping sunscreen and chlorine and popsicles melting over fingers. I remember the other girls, tearing off tank tops and shorts and jumping into the pool in their newest bikinis. And I remembered Val, sitting idly by herself at the water's edge.
I should've asked her that. A long time ago, I should've asked her that.
Val frowns at me, and I realize I still haven't said anything. "Simon?"
"Yeah," I say, getting to my feet and holding a hand down to help her up. "Yeah; I'd like that."
We stand, but neither of us move. The water's in front of us, undulating, soft.
I grasp the end of her cover-up, hesitantly. "Can I...?"
For a horrible moment I'm worried I've made the wrong move, but then she smiles. "You're not hiding anything from me anymore," she says. "So I'm not hiding anything from you."
"Only if it's okay."
To my surprise, she only laughs, turning away from me and lifting the cover-up off herself. I don't think I've ever seen so much of her skin, as long as we've known each other. It's deep brown and pinkish-white, a collage of art underneath the sun. I can't imagine anyone calling it ugly. The word doesn't even make sense in my mind. She's beautiful. Every inch of her.
Val steps off the towel, making straight for the water. "Hurry up!" she calls. "This sand's hot as hell."
I don't hesitate anymore. I shuck my own shirt off, chasing after her.
An hour later, our hair smells like saltwater and our toes have gone all pruny. Joy is something tangible, cloaked around me like a blanket, and for the first time in months I have so much I need to say. So much I need to write. Val has filled my chest with so many poems that I'm surely going to burst if I don't write some of them down.
We reach our towel again, my fingers itching for a pen. I don't find a pen, however. What I find instead is my phone, lit up with five repeated calls from Noah.
My stomach drops. I shake the water from my hair, wiping the phone screen free of gritty sand. The sun's suddenly an agonizing heat against my back.
"Everything okay?" asks Val, coming up behind me.
I jolt, holding the phone against my chest. "Oh! You scared me. Yeah, everything's fine. It's just—it's Noah. Can I take this?"
Val frowns at me, her hair slightly frizzed from the water. "You're sure everything's fine?"
"Val," I assure her, pausing a moment to smooth her hair down on either side of her head and press a kiss to her forehead. "I promise, it's all good. He's just very overprotective. I'll just talk to him for a second until I convince him we're not dead."
Val rolls her eyes. "Okay. Don't make me miss you."
I spare her a quiet smile, then turn and march back towards the hotel's grounds, not stopping until I parked myself underneath a palm tree. The sunlight suddenly extinguished by the shade, I still my hands for long enough to call Noah back.
"Simon, you asshole. I was worried sick."
"You were worried sick?" I start, then exhale. "I—I'm glad to hear your voice, you know. I thought, maybe—"
"Yeah, don't think that," Noah snaps. "Don't think anything. Just have fun with Val. That's your mission."
"If that's my only responsibility, why the hell are you keeping me away from it?" I say, leaning against the tree's bark, then reconsidering when I come across an ant colony.
"I needed to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine."
"Okay, good," Noah says. His voice is stony, firm, almost like a drill sergeant's. He only sounds that way when he's anxious. "Look, Ginger Snap. Larry has a plan to get rid of these guys, and he's carrying it out tonight. If all goes well, you and Val can stroll back into town tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I say, admittedly a bit reluctant. "That's so soon."
"This is the kind of thing that has to be handled ASAP," Noah explains. "So no one else gets hurt, you know? Anyway, I'll call you again when it's clear, okay?"
"Okay."
Noah pauses for a moment. I can see the look on his face. The downturn to his mouth, the risen eyebrows. The way he's probably biting his nails or pacing across the apartment floor or both. I wish I didn't have to leave him there. I wish he didn't make me leave him there. "Everything's gonna be fine," he tells me. The words would mean nothing if they weren't coming from Noah. Because it's him, they're true. "Everything's gonna be fine, Simon. Trust me."
"I trust you."
"You promise you're okay?"
I consider telling him about the incident at the airport, but decide now probably wouldn't be a good time. "I promise, Noah."
He makes a short grunt of approval. "Okay. I'll talk to you later."
He hangs up before I can utter a goodbye.
I glance back over at Val again. She's standing at the edge of the water, letting the waves bubble up at her toes.
The question pops up in my mind again, pressing against the backs of my eyes.
Have I made a mistake?