Love on a Nice Day

Donald came back from his walk on the beach. The sand was hot and he walked quickly from the water’s edge to his chair set low in the thick sand.

A red rose sat squarely in the crisscrossed plastic stitching of his chair.

Donald picked up the rose and sat down. He held the flower in his hand and looked around. It was Sunday; the beach was full of beach-goers. His eyes narrowed in on Samantha.

“Hey, Samantha,” he said in a low voice.

Samantha was deeply involved in a book on her lap. She sat in a chair much like Donald sat in. She didn’t turn around when he called her name, and he called her name louder.

“Sa-man-tha!”

She turned a page and went on reading.

Donald smelled the rose and smiled. He knew of only two possible people that would leave this flower on his seat. One of which, he had met yesterday. Samantha, the other possibility, sat with her thin legs outstretched, ignoring him.

“Hey, Sam!” he called.

His niece was maybe ten yards away and the waves were not so loud she couldn’t hear him over their roar. She had asked him to marry her four times this summer, each time with great sincerety, and Donald was pretty sure she was not his biggest fan at this moment-- for he had told her (with equal sincerety) that he wasn’t ready to settle down.

Donald was fifteen, Samantha was six.

“Yo!” he said. “Samantha-rama! Did you give me this flower?”

When Samantha didn’t respond, Donald looked around the beach. And there was Jenny. He’d met her in the water when they were body-surfing. She was nice looking and had big brown eyes, and she laughed when he said he was new here.

“Better get some sunscreen on,” she had said. This was yesterday.

He wondered if it could be possible that Jenny had left him the rose, and he thought, what the hell, anything is possible!

“Hey, Samantha!” he called over again. He let his voice carry with full force. “Did you give me—“

Samantha suddenly stood up and walked half way toward Donald where she wound up and threw the book at him. He tried to duck but the book curled in the air and him between the eyes.

“Jesus!” Donald said.

Samantha broke into tears and collapsed on the sand on her knees, sobbing.

“What happened, baby?”

It was Donald’s sister who came running now to her daughter’s aid.

“He gave me that book!” Samantha wailed. “It’s the saddest book I ever read!”

“What book?” Juliet asked. She looked over with scorching eyes at her brother.

Donald had just realized that his nose was bleeding.

“Bambi!” Donald said. “What the hell?”

“Her mother dies!” Samantha said, her chin shivering and tears running down both cheeks.

“You gave my daughter, Bambi to read?”

“It’s the worstest story, ever!”

“She threw it at me!”

“Why in the world would you ever give a child that book?”

“It’s a children’s book, for Christ sake!”

Samantha had her face down in the sand. When she looked up-- she looked at Donald. She had snot running down her nose and sand had now stuck to the snot and the whole mess ran all the way to her chin and beyond. She stood and walked toward Donald and stopped short. “You knew she died and you don’t even care?”

“I care,” Donald said using his beach towel to dab at his bleeding nose. He looked from his niece to his sister.

“Why?” his sister asked.

“I guess I made a mistake!” Donald said. “Your daughter threw a book at me!”

Just then he spotted the rose on the sand next to him. He held it up and looked at Samantha. “Did you give me this?”

“No!” Samantha said with disgust.

“You didn’t?” Donald asked. His face brightened. He looked over at Jenny playing Frisbee on the beach.

Samantha turned and ran along the sand past the umbrella and down toward the water.

Donald’s sister stood and glared at him. She shook her head with pity and disgust. “You know that Bambie’s mother dies in that story don’t you?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Donald asked.

“Do you know how sad that is to a little girl?”

“I’ve mourned Bambie's loss for a great while now, and I think it's time to move on,” Donald said. He still held the rose in his hand, twirling it.

His sister looked down at her brother and at the rose. "Samantha gave you that you know?”

Donald stopped twirling it. “She did?”

“Yes, you dick-head.” She turned and walked shaking her head after her daughter.

Donald took a quick glance at Jenny still playing Frisbee on the beach, and put his head back against his beach chair, and closed his eyes.

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