A Pivotal Time

A Pivotal Time

by

Trigudis

Island Boy. Summer Duchaine didn't know his real name but that's what came to mind when she first laid her big blue eyes on the young man who rented umbrellas and beach chairs in Avalon, New Jersey. He was dark and beautiful and his coal-black shag of hair was so thick, seagulls could nest in it. He was muscular, too; not Mr. Universe big by any means, but well- proportioned; perfectly proportioned. She expected him to talk with an accent, sounding like someone from somewhere in the Pacific Rim. But then she overheard him converse with friends and realized he was as American as she.

Her family (parents and kid brother) stayed in Avalon every summer during the month of August. Her parents owned a home there, a charming, bungalow-style cottage a block from the beach. "Our retreat," as her dad called it.

In May of 2021, Summer had just turned eighteen, and that summer was the first time she had seen Island Boy. Bart's umbrella stand had been there for years, manned by various people that flocked to the shore for seasonal work. Island Boy, she assumed, was one of them. She admired the way he could set up the umbrella in seconds, piercing the pole deep into the sand and then twisting it until it became stable. Her family stayed just yards from his stand, well within earshot. She'd hear him converse with friends that came to keep him company, and the girls that also drifted over for a chat and perhaps other things. She watched him take brief plunges into the ocean to cool off. Sometimes he'd snooze in his chair between servicing beachgoers.

He noticed her too, of course, but she couldn't be sure if he noticed her in the way she wanted to be noticed, the way so many guys did, young, middle-age and old. Young, bikini-clad, blond-hair, blue-eyed women that possessed the sort of body ideal for modeling skimpy swimwear get noticed. Flat tummy, slender hips, lovely skin and a face pretty enough for a Neutrogena ad—that was Summer. She had runner's legs, long and slender, though she didn't run, not competitively, anyway. She did swim, even surfed when conditions were right, and she liked to take long walks on the beach. "Ideal for thinking about stuff," she said.

These days, she had a lot to think about. There was Covid-19, that had caused so much suffering around the world. So far, her family had been spared, thanks to being vaccinated. But one of her friends' dads refused and had paid the ultimate price for his stubbornness. There was college coming up, her freshman year at Hofstra University. Was she prepared? Her senior year in high school had been a mix of in-person and virtual learning, mostly the latter. And there was Barry Cooper, her on-again, off-again boyfriend. Lately, it had been more off-again, perhaps not a bad thing because he was going to college in another state. She wasn't looking for another relationship. In fact, she felt somewhat relieved being "single" again, relieved from all the drama. Even so, a part of her missed Barry, at least missed the good times they once had, when "things were good between us," as she was wont to say.

Still, she couldn't ignore her hots for Island Boy, his sexy dark looks, his perfect body and his work ethic. Not only did he set up those umbrellas and chairs, he had to collect them when the people vacated them. She could see why he snoozed when he got the chance. She never saw him chat with his customers, only with friends and the poon that drifted over, the "beach groupies," she called them, the fawning type you'd see hanging around the lifeguard stands. She didn't want to be one of them, but she did want to get to know him better and wondered when he got off. Her family usually left the beach by four-thirty and Island Boy would still be there. Maybe she'd stay later, catch him when he got off.

She made good on that "plan" on a hot Tuesday afternoon. The beach crowd had thinned out and her parents and brother Josh had left, leaving Summer alone, lounging on her stomach, listening to tunes through earbuds. Her family brought their own beach furniture, renting only the umbrella. It was close to five o'clock and she could see Island Boy, sitting there in his red swimsuit, looking at her, as if wondering how much longer she'd be. "Am I holding you up?" she asked, slipping off her earbuds.

He lifted his sunglasses atop his head. "I get off at five. You about done?"

"Well, maybe," she said, teasingly. "But I wouldn't want to hold you up. You can leave and I'll put the umbrella back." She raised her right arm. "Promise."

Hands on hips, he flashed a look of comic disbelief. "Really? Sure you're strong enough?"

She flexed the bicep of one of her slender arms. "I am. I might be thin but I'm plenty strong. Wanna see?" Before he could answer, she got off the chaise, bent over and grabbed the pole.

Bounding up from his chair, he cried, "Hey, fold the umbrella before you do that."

She chuckled. "Oh yeah, I guess that would help." She did. Then, bending down and using her legs for most of the power, she lifted the pole from the sand. Holding the umbrella aloft in triumph, she said, "I can't say I could set this thing up as fast as you, but pulling it out wasn't difficult."

He clapped his hands as he stepped toward her. "Very good. I'll take that."

She watched him place the umbrella back on the stand. 'He probably thinks I'm a pain in the ass,' she thought. "So, what do you do when you're not doing this?" she asked when he turned around. "And what's your name? I'm Summer, by the way." She reached out for a shake.

"Trey," he said, taking her hand. "What do I do away from here? Hang out with friends, exercise, surf, read and just hope I can stay clear of this pandemic. And yes, I've been vaccinated. I figured you were going to ask that."

"You're right, I was. I guess it's on everybody's mind these days. My whole family's been vaxxed."

She asked him more questions—where he went to school, where he was from, even what he read. Raised mostly in California, he now lived in the Philadelphia area with his parents, was in his third year at the University of Maryland and Stephen King was his favorite author. He was staying at a boarding house with two roommates who also worked at the shore for the summer.

"Does your family have a place down here?" he asked. "I've seen you here for the last two weeks."

She told them about her family's cottage, even gave him the address. "We've been coming here for almost the entire month of August for years. Is this your first time doing this? I haven't seen you before."

"It is. I worked construction in the summer since I was sixteen. But this summer I wanted a change of pace. The money's not as good but I like it okay. It gets hectic at times but I've had fun. Met lots of new people."

"So I've noticed. I've seen more girls around your stand than I see around the lifeguards."

He drew an aw-shucks grin and shrugged. "Like I said, it's been fun." An awkward moment of silence followed. Then: "So, what do you do here for almost a month besides coming to the beach? Don't you, like, get bored?"

She nodded. "Sure, at times. Now, if I had a job here like yours and met as many people, I doubt that boredom would be a problem."

"No boyfriend?"

"He's, well, um...no, not at the moment." She looked down and slid her foot around in the sand.

"Sounds like one of those on-again, off-again things."

"Yeah, something like that." She didn't want to talk about her issues with Barry. "What about you? With all those girls around you, at least one must be special."

"I'm not tied down, if that's what you mean."

Not tied down. She'd guess not, not with that harem that gathered around him most every day. No way she was going to become part of that, another pretty face in the crowd. That is, if he was even interested. "Well, Trey, nice chatting with you. Guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm off tomorrow."

"Then I guess I'll see you—"

"Do you surf?"

"I do."

"Then let's meet sometime tomorrow at thirtieth street."

Surprised at his invite, she felt a rush of excitement shoot through her. "Um, sure, I'd like that. Just you and me?"

He looked around, mockingly checking for anyone else. "Yep, just you and me. Is that okay?"

She nodded. "I'll look forward to it. But the conditions aren't exactly ideal." She pointed toward the lame, two and three-foot waves rolling in.

"We'll need to go a little later or early in the morning. Slightly better then but not great. As you probably know, winter is best on the East Coast."

She did know that. She also knew that it didn't matter that much. She sensed that a "surfing date" was his way of getting to know her better rather than waiting for ideal surfing conditions. "I'm not much of a morning person," she said. "So how about around seven?"

He agreed, and after they exchanged cell numbers, she walked back to the cottage, giddy with excitement. She couldn't help but tell her parents and Josh as soon as she got in. "Just be careful," her dad warned her. "You don't really know this kid."

She knew her dad was right. She had watched enough Dateline NBC episodes to know where some girls ended up, trusting people that were anything but trustworthy. Yet she had a good feeling about this guy, good enough to where she had no qualms about racking her surfboard onto the roof of the family's Ford Explorer and driving to the beach at 30th Street at the designated time.

He was already in the water when she got there. The waves were better than during primetime beach hours, but far from ideal, not unexpected. Wearing shorts and a sweatshirt over her blue bikini, she jogged to the water's edge and called to him. He turned around, jumped off his board and waved. Carrying the board under his arm, he walked up to her and said, "Not exactly the North Shore of Oahu but it will have to do."

"I'll get ready," she said.

After throwing her shorts and sweats into the car, she untied her board and joined him at the water's edge. Then they paddled out and waited, just like the other surfers in the vicinity. An offshore breeze helped, but not much. The waves were three-feet at best. She'd seen better since she'd been coming to Avalon, when she was lucky enough to be there when a storm raged offshore, bringing the waves with it, hardly the Hawaiian type giants but powerful four to five-footers.

She told Trey about those times when they took a break, standing by their boards on the sand, he wearing his decorative knee-length swim suit, she in her blue bikini. He said that was typical for the West Coast, where he was from. "You ought to try Huntington Beach," he said. "Good conditions year-round. But wet suits are a must because it doesn't get any warmer than the mid-sixties. And that's in the summer."

Her attraction to him was such that she found it hard to focus on what he was saying. His dark good looks, that thicket of hair and that body—he could seduce her without really trying. She had him figured for a "player." How could a guy that looked like Trey not be? Even so, she wanted to know him better, and perhaps the small talk they were engaging in was a start. The sun was setting over the bay, a perfect setting for romance, an ideal time and place to neck with the right person. And on a physical level, Trey was the right person. He might be more ideal if she knew his last name. "Not to change the subject, Trey, but what's your last name?"

"Smith."

"What?!"

He laughed. "I get that a lot. People expect some foreign sounding name. But that's it, plain old Smith." She told him hers, and he said, "Duchaine. Now that's one I haven't heard before."

The sky was darkening. The breeze picked up and the temperature dropped. Starting to shiver, she wrapped her arms around her body. "Looks like you'll need that sweatshirt," he said. "Meanwhile, maybe this will help." Gently, he pulled her to him. "Am I getting too personal?"

She snuggled against his chest. "No, you're doing fine. How come you're so warm?"

"You light a fire under me," he chuckled. "Seriously, I think it was all those years on California beaches, cold compared to this place in the summer. Here, I'll walk you to your car."

He kept his arm around her the full width of the beach and then the block to her car. He waited while she racked her board, then slipped on her shorts, sweatshirt and flip-flops. "Thanks for meeting me here," he said. "Too bad the conditions aren't better. I bet you're a fine surfer."

"I'm okay," she said, standing just inches from him, next to her open car door. "Well, I guess this is bye-bye for now. I had fun." She started to get into her seat, then turned around. "Trey, can I ask you something?" He nodded. "Well, um, do I really light a fire under you?" She grinned, trying to appear comical, though she was quite serious.

He stepped closer. "Summer, I've had my eyes on you for a while. But you were with your folks and I was working. Besides, I'm shy." He drew her a teasing grin.

"Ha ha. Sure you are. Well then, are you too shy to kiss me goodnight?"

He closed the gap between them, then placed his hands on her shoulders. "Even if I was, you're too pretty to resist."

When her lips met his, she closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his kiss and the attraction she sensed he felt for her. Player or not, it didn't matter, because at this moment, he was making her feel special, like she was the only girl he wanted to be with. His hands didn't wander to her private places. He didn't grope and he didn't force. He simply held her, pressing his lips against hers, making her almost wish he'd do more. But liking him more because he didn't.

*****

They had made no subsequent plans to see each other, at least exclusively. She felt somewhat disappointed that all he said when they parted was, "see you on the beach tomorrow."

She did—with her family around her and Trey doing his job, sitting at times alone, other times with friends, both guys and gals. Umbrellas and chairs were set up by his stand to accommodate the people that stopped by to chat. He acknowledged her with a wave and a smile, and even called her over during a lull in his work. He introduced her to his friends/hangers on—Jamie, Steve, and Lera. "Summer's staying with her folks in a house they own," he said. He pointed to her parents and brother lounging under their umbrella just a few yards away. "We went surfing last night."

She felt awkward watching his "guests" nod and smile in a laconic sort of way. She thought that Lera, a Hawaiian-looking brunette, was so pretty in the way that Polynesian girls could be. Of course, she wondered if she and Trey were more than just friends. Looks-wise, they would make a charming couple.

When she returned to her chaise, her mom, in a black and white stripped one-piece, finished re-applying sunscreen to her long, tan legs and said, "You've got good tastes, dear. Trey is one good-looking young man. Do you plan on seeing him again? Away from this spot, I mean."

Summer shrugged. "That's kind of up to him, mom. I think he knows I'm interested."

Stephen, her heavy-set, silver-haired dad, turned toward his wife. "He looks like a playboy to me, Sheila. A nice kid, maybe, but one sowing plenty of wild oats."

Summer and her dad had disagreed on lots of things, but this time she felt he might be right. "Well, let him," she said. "We had one surfing date, probably our last. No harm done." She left out that passionate goodnight kiss that had her wishing for more. "Anyway, I'm getting wet. It's hot out here."

Getting wet. She meant a dip in the ocean, not wet in the way she had been getting during that kiss. She laughed at the double entendre that suddenly hit her as she stepped across the sand, her shapely calves flexing with every step. Josh, going into his last year of high school, was using a boogie board to ride the still anemic waves that rolled in. He was tall like his dad, but not very athletic, a "confirmed nerd" as he sometimes referred to himself. "So where's surfer boy?" he asked, in a teasing but good-natured way, when Summer waded up to him.

"He's going Polynesian," she said, a subtle reference to Lera. "Would you like to meet him?" She knew that Josh had no interest in meeting Trey; it was her way of teasing back.

"Only if he's into computers," he said, jumping over a short wave that rolled in.

She jumped over another wave. Then: "Maybe you can ask him."

They waded further out until the water was up to their necks. Then it got shallow again when they stepped onto a sandbar, where the water went no deeper than waist-high. Turning toward the shore, she saw a figure swimming toward them, a guy with thick black hair. She knew who it was even before he got to the sandbar. "Okay, Josh, here's your chance."

Trey, wearing another red swimsuit, flashed a big grin as he stepped onto the sandbar. "My friends are subbing for me for a few minutes," he said.

Summer introduced Trey to Josh. Then she said, "Josh wanted to know if you're into computers."

"Yeah, you could say I'm a computer nerd," Josh said.

"Well, we have something in common with the computer thing," Trey said. "I'm majoring in computer science."

Josh nodded while wrapping his arms around himself. "I'm going in to warm up."

As Josh swam away, Summer said, "So, you came all the way out here just to be with me?"

"You and only you. What do you think?"

She ran a finger down his six-pack abs. "I think you're one hot computer science major."

"And I think you're one hot blond surfer girl."

His flattery warmed her, but she still wanted to know about Lera. She resisted the urge to ask, knowing it wasn't any of her business. "Your friends can see what we're doing out here," she said. They were touching each other and trading light kisses.

"Your family can see us, too. I hope your mom and dad are okay with it."

"My dad thinks you're a playboy."

He drew a sneaky, devilish sort of smile. "Right now, I'm with you."

"Lera won't be jealous?" That was her roundabout way of asking about Lera.

"We're not an item."

Friends with benefits, perhaps. She thought it but didn't ask. Anyway, why should she care? She was in Avalon for a short time and then it was off to school for both of them. A light romance, if that's what this turned out to be, was something she needed at the moment, a refreshing change from all the drama she had gone through with Barry.

"Well, look," Trey said, after a few more minutes of small talk, "I've gotta get back to work. Are you free tonight? We're having a little beach party."

"I'm free as I'm ever likely to be," she said. "Sounds like fun. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just your beach chair. We'll be on the beach at Townsends Inlet. Do you drink? We'll have a cooler filled with wine and beer. You probably know that the drinking age here is still twenty-one."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "But I'm not a big drinker anyway. One beer or glass of wine is plenty for me. See you tonight."

*****

"It's never over till it's over," Yogi Berra famously said, a phrase that rang true with Barry Cooper as he drove south on Ocean Drive toward his destination, Avalon, New Jersey. He didn't need a map or GPS to find his way to the Duschaine's vacation house. He'd been there several times when he and Summer were together, when they were on better time.

Neither she nor her family knew he was coming. He wanted to surprise her, pleasantly, he hoped. He wanted to make things right again. He knew it was a gamble. Summer could be involved with someone else. Or, she might slam the door in his face. Or, not even come to the door if her parents or brother answered. It was a gamble he was willing to take because he missed her. More than missed her, he still loved her and he hadn't given up on the idea that they might be able to work out their issues. Anyway, what's a relationship without issues?