My father was right. There is a dumbass born every minute.
Standing on the gigantic rocks at Peggy’s Cove, a gorgeous Nova Scotia tourist destination, I wave my hands and yell, desperate to get the attention of the elderly gentleman creeping toward the dangerous black rocks near the water’s edge. With his young granddaughter hoisted up in one arm, and his fist grasping the hoodie of his small grandson, who happens to be tripping over his untied laces, the man walks closer and closer to the surf.
Cripes, they’re all going to slip and slide right in.
“Hey!” I scream, but my words are carried off in the brisk summer breeze blowing in from the choppy Atlantic Ocean.
What the hell is he thinking? There are signs everywhere, warning tourists to stay back from the rocks. People have died here. Heck, I’m from New York, a visitor to the fishing village myself, and I know better than to venture too close.
“Stay back!” I yell, but once again, the wind carries my words away. I hop along a few more rocks and hold my arms out to keep my balance. My skirt almost rips as I hurry forward, and holy hell, I can barely catch my breath by the time I finally reach the guy. Yeah, it’s true: I seriously need to get back on the treadmill. My fingers shake, partly from lack of oxygen and partly from worry, as I tug on the back of the man’s T-shirt.
“Slippery,” I say, working hard not to sound too winded as he turns to me. “You can’t be on these rocks. People have died here.” His dark brow furrows, and for a minute, I think he’s going to spin back toward the ocean and ignore me.
Wait, maybe he doesn’t speak English. Maybe he’s one of those Quebecois who will only speak French.
“Rocks. Slippery. Dangerous.”
I point downward, then throw my hands up, mimicking the motions of one flailing during a fall. He stares at me like I’ve just escaped some institution. Yeah, I get it. I suck at charades.
“Okay, enough of this.” I extend my arm to the young boy. “Please take my hand,” I plead, but the child tucks himself behind his grandfather’s leg and tugs on his pants, dragging them closer to the water. Dear God, I’m making this worse. My racing heart crashes against my chest as adrenaline floods my veins.
“Please, you have to—”
“Maybe you should mind your business,” the man says, and my head rears back like he just slapped me in the face. So he does speak English. He’s just a real…
Don’t call him a dumbass. Don’t call him a dumbass.
“Do you need me to talk slower, use smaller words so you can understand what kind of danger you’re putting your grandkids in?’’
“I am not—”
I point to all the warnings. “Look around. Read the signs. There’s even little painted rocks scattered around to warn visitors.”
He glances over my shoulder as a gust of wind races over us. “I read them.”
I shake my head and spit a strand of hair from my mouth. Attractive, I know. But that’s hardly my concern at the moment. “Then why are you ignoring them?”
“We just wanted to put our feet in the Atlantic Ocean,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot for not understanding. Yeah, I’m the idiot. Sheesh.
“Then go to the beach,” I say softening my plea, hoping to drive the point home.
His eyes narrow in on me. “We were being careful.”
I point to a higher elevation. “How about being careful over there? Please,” I beg, my eyes darting to the squirming boy. My heart thumps, wanting to grab him but too afraid he’ll jump back and fall in. “The ocean is unpredictable.”
He snorts, an obvious attempt to mock me. “What are you, the ocean police?”
Keep it together, Alyson.
“Yeah, that’s what I am,” I say and shake my head. “I’m the ocean police, and I patrol these monstrous rocks in fashionable heels.” I stick my leg out to showcase my Louboutins. “Lovely, aren’t they? Now go. Please. The waves are getting higher.”
Sneering at me, he shifts his granddaughter on his hip and reaches for his grandson’s hand. “Let’s go check out the gift shop,” he says, and I exhale in relief, until he pushes past me, nearly knocking me into the surf.
Asshole.
I wobble a little in my heels but manage to balance myself. All those early morning sessions holding the tree pose for hours on end has finally paid off.