Lover Land

The beach was not anything Amber-Maye had expected. It smelled like fish. It seemed dirty. The sky was gray and the wind was hitting her in cold gusts, and she thought to herself how the welcoming party had pulled a no-show on her first trip to the beach. Even Mr. Samson had his shoulders hunched in a constant shrug when she looked about, trying to find what everyone else had been talking about. Where was the complete feeling of freedom? The water hit her legs suddenly, soaking her jeans and she laughed at the freezing cold as she waded further up the beach, learning her first lesson quickly. Little kids were staring at them with curiousity, especially at Mr. Samson as he wandered around puffing his cigarette, trailing Amber-Maye as she walked the beach, dodging the tide and piles of green stuff that washed up that she could only assume was some sort of kelp or algae or whatever it was that grew in the ocean.
“This sucks. Let’s go to the hotel.” Mr. Samson barked as he threw his cigarette into the approaching waves and Amber-Maye followed reluctantly. Hopefully this wasn’t all they had traveled to San Diego for. It was starting to hit her that it was just Mr. Samson, the boy she loved, and her sharing a hotel room in San Diego together for five days. She bit her lip for the thoughts of heartbreak flashing through her brain.



The waves hit her this time with a vigorous force that she immediately knew had to be respected. It was pitch black and Amber-Maye clutched her baggy of wine with a strength only alcoholics could be proud at and continued to hit every way with gusto as she swam farther and farther out. She lost site of Mr. Samson and cheered herself on, as she could no longer touch ground with her toes. The water was starting to warm up to her and she enjoyed waiting for the waves to come, their slow but unforgiving avalanche of water gaining speed until the moment she could jump and fight against with amateur defiance. The sound of the waves rolling along until their final crash made Amber-Maye feel so small, and powerless, and yet so alive. Maybe it was all the alcohol she had before she had declared to Mr. Samson she was ready for the ocean. Maybe it was the fall down the hill she endured, after losing her footing and tumbling down twenty feet or so, with scratches and bruises that would be felt more accurately next morning. Maybe it was the whole feeling of being in a dream, with the boy she had always liked, suddenly back in her life, taking her to exotic locations and acting like her larger then life personality was new and interesting.
Whatever is was Amber-Maye knew if she thought too much she’d find the cracks in this scenario and ruin it. She took a swig of her cheap wine while she waited for another wave and the sudden irrational fear hit her like a telephone poll in her careening joy ride. SHARK! Oh my god oh my god, what if there are sharks out here? The panic over took Amber-Maye and suddenly she was convinced she was going to die. No logic could enter her brain and she started so swim in a frantic dog paddle, with every kick she imagined jaws clamping down on her leg. She couldn’t see anything and her heart beat faster then anytime she could remember, her heart in the back of her throat. Her foot hit the ground and she almost had a heart attack, and she must have looked like a sea monster as she launched herself into an awkward run. She tripped over the water even as her knees finally got above the water, and she fell numerous times, finally making it with a crash landing crawl. Mr. Samson was sitting up drinking a beer with a six-pack next to him a puzzled smile etched on his face even in the dark.
“ What the fuck are you doing?” He yelled with a laugh and Amber Maye rolled over to look at him with a sheepish smile, her lungs still heaving.
“Dude I thought there were sharks.” She whined and took the laughter that erupted from Mr. Samson with another swig of her wine.