Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,67
would do.
Julia, the much more seasoned camper between the two of them,
dug a little hole and assembled the logs into a tepee, running back to
the car for some paper to help the starter log catch fire quickly. Dave
set their purchases around the towel to keep it from flapping around
and collecting sand in the breeze.
Within a few minutes Julia had the fire going and they’d impaled
sausages and pineapple squares on the skewers, digging them into the
sand around the fire so that they would roast hands-free. They sat with
their legs crossed, the ocean’s constant roar like a song of approval,
their faces lit up in tiny orange flickers of flames reflecting in their eyes.
“Well, this was a fantastic idea,” Dave said, twisting the cap off the
jug of iced tea and raising it to his lips.
“Wait!” Julia lowered the bottle before he could take a drink. “We
need a toast first.”
Dave gestured out to the scene in front of them. “This on a Tuesday
night? Do we really need a toast?”
Julia grabbed the jug out of his hands. “That’s too long. Toasts have
to be short and wise. Like Hemingway.” She thought for a second, then
raised it up. “To the fire in our hearts,” she said, a line she remembered from one of her mom’s postcards. Then she took a long pull, wincing
as if it were whiskey. She handed Dave the bottle, conscious of how
their fingers brushed against each other. Her ears were ringing from
224 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
the concert, and the slight chill in the air was completely canceled out by the warmth of the blaze. Dave set the bottle in the sand in front of
them, smacking his lips from the sweetness. A car drove past them on
the highway behind, just a whirr of tires on pavement. Not even the
headlights reached them. They let the sound of the ocean rule for a
while, and exchanged swigs from the bottle while giving the skewered
sausages quarter turns so that they’d cook the whole way through.
Every time one of them raised the bottle, the other would come up
with a new toast that would fit Julia’s criteria of being Hemingway-
esque.
Dave: “To another numbered night.”
Julia: “To small differences.”
Dave: “To being really thankful this isn’t alcohol because I’d be
plastered by now.”
Julia: “To my friend’s low alcohol tolerance. May his life be blessed
with cheap bar tabs and designated drivers.”
Within the hour, they were giggly from the sugar high. Skewers lay
strewn about the beach, sand sticking to the pineapple juice that had
run down their sides, little bits of sausage indistinguishable from the
shadows cast by the fire. They were recovering from a laughing bout,
though she couldn’t quite recall what had set it off. She reached for
another log from their dwindling stack and placed it diagonally into
the fire. Julia leaned back, feeling herself start to sweat.
“I think this is officially a night of good ideas,” Dave said, suddenly
standing up. He was taking his shoes off, holding his arms out for
JULIA 225
balance. “We’re already crossing off one Never tonight, right? Why not
take it further?” He grabbed the bottom of his shirt with one hand and
pulled it swiftly over his head.
“What are you doing?”
“Number six: Never go skinny-dipping.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “No one can see us. No chance of it going viral, unless
one of us is the culprit.” He looked over at the ocean and unbuttoned
his jeans. “I don’t know about you, but nothing sounds better to me
right now than getting in that ocean.” A big grin spread across his face and he turned away from Julia, stepping out of his jeans and boxers as
he ran out into the incoming tide, his ass pale, sticking out in the night.
Julia could barely breathe from the laughter, and with very little
hesitation she slipped out of her shorts, leaving a trail of T-shirt, bra, and panties as she joined Dave in the Pacific. “This is so fucking cold!”
“The fire in our hearts will keep us warm,” Dave said, though his
teeth were already chattering.
“The shivering brought on by hypothermia might do a better job.”
They kept close to the shore, crouching on their knees so that the
water would wash over them completely. Julia dunked her head under
the water, feeling her lungs shout for air and warmth.
“Julia! Look.”
She wiped the salt water from her eyes and oriented herself until
she spotted Dave pointing out toward the horizon. She followed his
gaze and saw the moon, a duller replica of the orange ball the sun
226 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
had been when it dipped below the surface a few hours ago. It wasn’t
completely full, but it was bigger than she’d ever seen it,