August 2022, South of 50th and Central, Ocean City , NJ
Even though it was late afternoon and the sun was dropping behind him he still had to shield his eyes with his hand as he searched the sky for the kite. He could hear the sounds of the children playing in the distance but he couldn't locate the kite. Their voices were indistinct, they must be halfway to the water's edge he figured. The beach wasn't wide this far down on the southern part of the island. If he stood he should be able to spot them easily.
He continued to search the sky. There it was, off to his right and a bit behind him, a bright pink octopus with its long tentacles trailing in the high winds against the blue sky. They must have two spools of line out because it was way up there. Their father had to have helped them.
He sat up in the lounge chair. From his vantage on the second floor he could see the ocean clearly, but he couldn't see the beach as it was still below his line of sight. He'd have to stand to spy them. He made his way to the railing. It was a good size deck, but private and right off the master bedroom as Tanya had wanted it. She had designed the home exactly to her liking; and she had done an excellent job. But now he was on his own, and expected he would remain so. He missed Tanya terribly. He wished she had been able to enjoy more time here in her dream house. But we don't get to control those things do we, he told himself.
He scanned the waterline for some time before he spotted them. They were even further south along the shoreline than he had expected, almost to the nature preserve. Their father definitely had to have helped them. They were too far for him to see them well. The children's voices he had heard must have been from another family. He noticed that there were still some people left of the beach. But it had mostly emptied out which was not unusual for this time of day. It was the perfect time for kite flying, no concerns of a wayward one crash landing on someone.
He could have moved to the telescope perched on its tripod to spot them clearly, but instead he just glanced along the horizon looking for ships. He spotted one to the north. Probably a large container ship making its way south with its cargo. From this height, and given the size of the boat it was clearly many miles offshore. It seemed to effortlessly crawl along the horizon. He had always like to watch the boats like this - in their silence, slowly making their way. Following the boat his mind began to drift along as well.
Mid-August 1982, 10th and Haven, Ocean City, NJ
Michael sat on the back stoop smoking what he had promised himself would be the last one. It was too damn hot, spoiling his break and contributing to his sullen mood. The summer was ending in a couple of weeks and it had been a poor summer as far as he was concerned. He had hoped to gain more experience with women, but it hadn't worked out. He would be returning to college still inexplicably unschooled in that way. It's ridiculous, he thought to himself, 20 and still woefully inexperienced.
Sure, there had been some heavy touching and exploring with a few girls, but nothing more. Many of the girls that visited the shore with their friends stayed for a day, a weekend, or maybe even a week if they were with their families - shoobies the locals like Michael called them. The shoobies were there too short a time for much to develop. Unlike his friends he hadn't been able to hook-up with any that were willing to go beyond a hand briefly in their bikini bottoms, if even that. He guessed that most of them had boyfriends at school or at home and that they figured a little summer fling was fun if it didn't involve much more than being groped or doing a little groping themselves. Maybe he was too picky. Certainly if he lowered his standards like Anthony had he'd get further along. But he just couldn't bring himself to do that, no matter how frustrated he was.
Last month had been particularly annoying. He had met this girl, Samantha (if that was even her real name, he now wondered) at a party. She was a pretty blonde. They talked for quite awhile and then she basically jumped him. While he sat in a chair on the porch she plopped down on his lap and tore into him. She was biting his ear and his neck in front of everyone that walked by. But her friends grabbed her too soon and abruptly left him at the party. However, not before he had asked how to reach her. She had scribbled her number and address on his arm in pen. So he had been hopeful.
She seemed to spend most of the time at the party with him. She had been so chatty and forward that he was certain his time had come. But when he called the next day the phone number was a dead end. When he went by the address on Brighton she had given him it turned out to be a false lead as well.
What was even worse was that he had not realized that all of her aggressive "kissing" had left purple welts on his neck and upper chest. When he had woken-up the next morning and walked into the kitchen his mother did a double-take. She didn't say a word but five minutes later when he was standing in front of the mirror brushing his teeth he noticed what she had been looking at. How embarrassing. Of course, unlike his mother, everyone at work, including his uncle and cousins, made great sport of it when they saw him.
He took one more drag on the cigarette and decided to cut his break short. It was better to be in the kitchen unpacking fish from the coolers than baking in the sun. He stood up, snubbed the cigarette on the step and flicked it into the trash can. His uncle would not tolerate cigarette butts scattered across the back steps.
As he reached in the cooler to grab a fresh flounder for filleting the old bell on the door alerted them to a customer. Michael, being the only one not elbow deep in fish guts, quickly rinsed his hands and made his way to the front.
He could see only a tuft of white, vaguely blueish hair peeking over the top of the refrigerated case that displayed the seafood. There was only one person that could be.
"Hello, Mrs. Benigno. How are you today?" He made his way to the register where he would be able to see her more clearly. She was an exceptionally short woman, deep into her 70s.
"Oh, Michael, I didn't see you there," she laughed. "I'm just fine, other than having old legs," she laughed again.
"What's it going to be today, ma'am?" She was a daily customer.
"Oh, maybe just a pound of the sea bass. And how are the mussels today? Mr. Benigno loves the mussels. I make a nice spicy marinara for them, you know."
"The mussels look good today, a bit on the smaller side. They're tastier at that size."
"Give me enough for two, hun."
Michael weighed her fish, wrapped it and packed the mussels with some ice in a plastic baggie while she looked over the display case further. She commented on all the different meals she could make with each fish displayed. Michael just nodded along and every once in awhile would go with a "that sounds delicious."
It wasn't much to carry, but he walked her to her car anyways. She tried to give him a tip, but Michael refused as he always did, reminding her that his uncle would never allow it.
A minute later, as he wiped down the scale, he saw her car weave around the street as she pulled away. She really shouldn't be driving, he thought to himself. Between barely being able see over the steering wheel and those coke-bottle glasses she was a potential menace on the road.
Before he returned to filleting fish Michael's uncle asked him to restock the front drink case. It was filled with juices, sodas, water, and also some fresh marinades and a few side dishes like potato salad. Michael kneeled on the floor in front of the open refrigerated case shuffling cans of Sprite and colas onto the bottom shelf. He had shifted to sitting on an overturned milk crate to stock the next shelve when he heard the screen door behind him open with the telltale ringing of the old bell.
Michael assumed someone else would come out to help the customer. He just continued shoving sodas into the fridge. As a minute ticked by Michael, still mulling over his unfortunate woman situation, didn't realize that no one had emerged from the back to help the customer.
