Posted by Ender3306 on December 28, 1999 at 22:55:34:
From the day I arrived in paradise, I thought I knew everyone's story.
This was an upscale resort in Jamaica. The kids were going to be rich spoiled brats and the adults were going to be close-minded mouth-movers with nothing interesting to say. How my Grandma and Grandpa has scrounged up the money to take my cousins and I out to a place like this was beyond me. I figured they must have lived like beggars for years to afford one week in this paradise.
So when my Grandpa struck up a conversation with the tanned, middle-aged clean-shaven business god to his right, I wanted to hide under my white beach chair and peek through the slats. My Grandpa, the stubborn road-worker from Jersey who'd supervised the construction of half the state's highways and intersections, talking to a man who rode over his roadways in the back of a white stretch limo on his way to the city. These two adults had nothing in common. And still, I watched as they exchanged pleasant words at the poolside, the ocean behind them and the round Jamacia sun overhead. My Grandpa looked so happy here, no matter how different he was from everyone else around him.
I, on the other hand, couldn't stand being different. Every other fourteen year old was having a blast, but I just couldn't get into it. I was too different. Looking out over the pool, staring at all the younger boys playing in the water, I knew I was -very- different indeed.
I saw one of the boys approach this man my Grandpa was talking to, walking up to him with the confidence of a college graduate or something, a confidence I couldn't muster up in a million years. I guess being rich had something to do with it; what did this kid have to worry about, after all? He had no reason to be afraid or mistrustful of the world around him, he had not a care in the world. The boy was about ten or eleven, heavily tanned, and he spoke with a strong british accent that I found absolutely adorable. The kid strode right up to his dad and patted him on the back (like an old friend!) and asked him for three quarters for the arcade machines over by the hotel. The man opened up his wallet and gave the boy the quarters, and just like that the kid was off again, his bare feet leaving footprints in the sand.
I looked at my grandfather, wishing I could pat him on the back and ask him for three quarters. I didn't care about the money, I didn't care about the games. I just wanted my Grandpa to get the same enjoyment out of seeing my shining face that this man certainly had from his own son. But my mind was troubled because as I looked at this boy, even here in paradise, I was a little bit afraid that I was getting a crush on a young Adam instead of Eve.
The two men continued to talk, and I could tell that my grandfather didn't care about Saks Fifth Avenue and weekend getaways to the Hamptons. Back home Grandpa always talked about tax increases and workers unions and weekend getaways to the Jersey shore. But here he smiled just the same and nodded his head, and took in the sun with the rest of the gentlemen by the pool. I studied his eyes like I always did, ever since I was four. I realized something then - he wasn't faking it, he was honestly having a good time. That's when I considered the fact that perhaps that I was going about this whole thing all wrong.
Mabye, in paradise, anything was possible.
I stood up, brushed back some loose strands of brown hair from my eyes, and walked toward my Grandpa. I threw a smile up on my face and stood straight and tall. I asked for three quarters.
I followed the footprints in the sand towards the back of the hotel, a quiet and shaded area where the children's voices had died away and the sounds of the crashing ocean waves reached my ears unsullied. I found him back there by the machines. A short kid with a blue NY GIANTS cap and a baggy green bathing suit. A breeze crossed his shirtless body and even in the ninty-five degree heat I thought I saw him shiver.
He was beautiful. His blond hair was not quite down to his shoulder s yet, but it waved behind him when he jerked his head as he played the game. His eyes were blue as the ocean and just as wide. He laughed and he sighed and the way his body moved made me catch my breath. I thought about running away back towards the ocean, I was so overcome with feeling. What was I thinking? Why was I getting a crush on this boy? A crush, thats what it was, that's what these feelings were. And in spite of all the fear I smiled to myself. It must have been that accent that won me over, I thought. Definitely the accent.
"Hey, you got a quarter?"
There's that accent again. That was him. He was talking to me. He was talking to me! I tried not to stammer as I pulled a coin from my bathing suit pocket and said "Sure!".
"I'll play you, ok?"
Yeah, that's ok. More than ok. We played a couple rounds of some World War II blast 'em to bits game before we got bored. That's when we actually started to talk. Walking along the beach with him as the sun began to set, I couldn't help thinking that mabye this trip wasn't such a bad idea after all.
We talked about everything that night. I learned that we were very different people. "When I grow up, I want to be a movie director," I told him. He wanted to be a lawyer. "My dad says that lawyers make a lot of money and its pretty exciting and all," he said. We couldn't agree on game shows, (I liked Double Dare and he liked Jeopardy) and our music tastes didn't match at all. (Metallica and New Kids on the Block don't have much in common) And yet, as day turned to dusk, I couldn't help noticing that I couldn't keep my eyes off him. And there he was, his huge blue eyes staring right back at me.
The night came, and the beach grew colder and less hospitable. We headed back towards the hotel, where the sound of a local band and the smell of barbequed shrimp and pineapples drifted toward us from the poolside.
As we approached the resort, I tried to make my barefoot steps smaller and smaller. I didn't want it to end. I wanted to talk to him forever, I wanted us to spend the night on the beach, just laying on our backs with our eyes staring up at the sky, our voices murmering to each other under a canopy of stars. We had nothing in common, and yet when our eyes met I knew somehow that we needed each other, that there was something shared between us that didn't come along every day, and I could feel it slipping away as the resort grew larger in our eyes.
I guess thats why I stopped at the hut. We were on resort property now, and we knew we could get free juice and stuff just by showing our pink arm bands to the person behind the counter. I saw an older couple walk away from the hut with two Pina Coladas. They were happy, they were together. I thought to myself, "hey, that could be us."
So I dragged my friend across the sand towards the hut, and I asked the man there for two sodas. "What flavor?" he asked.
"Pineapple!" we both shouted, at exactly the same time. We smiled, and the man probably couldn't figure out why at that moment we started laughing and just couldn't stop. It was the first thing we had agreed on all night. We both LOVED Pineapple soda.
I took both sodas off the counter and gave one to my new friend. I'll never forget the moment our hands touched as I passed the soda to him, and he looked into my eyes and said "Thanks." I wanted to hug him. I took a sip of my soda instead.
We sipped all the way back to the pool. The kid found his dad over by the bar, and I found my grandfather near the TV watching football. As we both reached the bottom of our glasses, our eyes caught from across the pool and we smiled at each other one last time.
I never saw him again. We took the bus to the airport the very next day. It was overcast and we flew home in heavy rain. During the entire flight home I was lost in space, trying to remember his name. But I couldn't do it. I remember his face, his smile, his eyes, the feelings I had when I was around him - but I just couldn't remember his name. So he'll alw ays be just "the kid" to me, the little brother I never had, the crush I'll never get over, the paradise that I lost forever.
I think of him a lot, especially when I drink pineapple soda. I realized that summer that I don't know everyone's story. But I did come a little bit closer to discovering my own.
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(the above is a slightly fictionalized account of a true story. I lied about the name thing though. I remember his name very well. It was Andrew. I fell in love with him and I never told him because I was afraid. That one evening on the beach will be with me forever.)
- Ender