Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Nothing To Do Here
"The Fog Comes on Little Pig Feet? That's a stupid name for a book."
"It was one of my favorites when I was your age."
"Is it like that stupid book about that stupid girl talking to God about her period?"
A part of me dies with that last question. I struggle to think of an answer. It no longer hurts to have my childhood mocked. I guess I've grown numb. Or too old to care. Or too mature to feel the need to defend myself. I'll go with Door Number Three. I pick up the book and nestle it in my beach bag, next to the sunblock (SPF 50) and multiple bottles of water, place my straw hat on my head and start out the door
"Coming to the beach, or are you going to spend the whole day inside again?"
A graceful eye roll leaps across the room, followed by a slight undulation of the shoulders.
"I don't know. It's so hot. There's nothing to do here."
"It's the shore. You either go in the water, or sit on the beach, read, watch the waves, shoo away the seagulls. That's what you do here."
I'm not going to push, not going to fight adolescent angst. I'm trying to be more lenient. Time is running out. There won't be too many more summer days to waste at the shore. I open the door and start out.
"Wait, I'm coming. Does the girl in this book whine like the other one?"
I duck my head, letting the brim of my hat hide my smile.
"She whines some. She's sent to boarding school and she doesn't like being there."
"Boarding school? Like Hogwarts? Is she a witch?"
"No, she's normal. She wanted to go to a music school because she plays piano, but her parents sent her to an expensive private school instead because they think she'll get a better education."
"So there are no witches?"
"No, no vampires."
A disdainful grunt escapes from her.
"Sounds pretty lame to me."
I snap my towel open and lay it on the sand. A full conversation between the two of us that didn't dissolve into tears, profanity, or yelling. Yes, the beach really is a relaxing place.