With a sigh Philip tossed the cigarette butt over the safety rail and into the crashing waves below. It had been about two and a half years since he'd taken his last vacation, now here he was, beachside without the foggiest of ideas about what he should do for fun.
When he was younger maybe the clubs would have appealed to him, but now at forty-nine, it was sheer luck if he even stayed up until three A.M. anymore. That or he had the same recurring nightmare that haunted and roused him like clockwork in the middle of every single week. In the nightmare he died alone, on the silk sheets of the king-sized bed in his townhouse, Vivaldi floating through the speakers of the docking station -- that he ordered on a whim one day while browsing amazon --, and the bottle of scotch he kept on the side table, was on the floor cracked and leaking onto the hardwood finish.
"Well, least in the nightmare I'm a little greyer around the edges." He mused to himself, thankful that most of the hair on his head was still black, with the only grey that dared show residing in his beard. Then with a chuckle he bent and to pick up the parcel of fish he'd rested on the boardwalk as he stopped to have his smoke, and upon righting himself, the muscles in his lower back tightened, causing a hiss to escape him as he stretched and caught himself before walking down the boardwalk, his eyes hidden by sunglasses taking in all the sights around him as he moved on.
The younger men walked by with tanned skin, perfect teeth, wearing the same designer shades and the smug, preppy grin, that said 'my dad is rich', while the girls in bikini tops on their arms, fawned over them, and most likely not even for the money, because between the straw blonde hair, perfect teeth, and the jewelry that seemed -- in his humble opinion -- a little too obnoxious to be worn to the beach, it was obvious that their fathers weren't exactly short of nickels to rub together.
Still, the young love in the air was oddly a bit saddening for him. Most of friends has settled down, that or they winded up saddled with thousands in annual child support payments, he was the only one who had continued to live through his glory days, content to binge drink and party through his trust fund until his father passed away. It was then that his mother sat him down and with the sternest of tones told him to make something of himself, be a man that he could be proud of when he looked back. Now looking down at the fish in his hand, and the flip-flops on his feet, proud wasn't exactly the first word that came to mind.
"Professor Howard?" A soft voice questioned and he looked up in search of the owner, "Professor!" A hand holding a tissue waved at him, and he recognized one of the students he taught a few years ago.
"Vicky Larson?" He asked walking towards the girl that sat on the bench, noticing that she was three fourths of her way through a hotdog, and seemingly pretty content with life at the moment, as she wore a pair of shorts and a halter top, keeping her ankles locked together and returned her waving hand to the bench for support.
"Fancy seeing you here sir." She said before taking another bite of the hotdog and he nodded in response.
"I, ah, wanted to get some fish." The parcel was held up as part of the response, the newspaper now a bit soggier that the ice had begun to melt.
"Oh..." She replied, seemingly disheartened for a moment, "I wanted some myself, but I forgot to go."
"How do you forget that?"
"Well, I was walking by, and I smelt the hotdogs and they smelled absolutely fantastic, so I thought, Vicky you should get a hotdog, so I got a hotdog. Then I realized that the market closed, so, there was no fish." She nodded somberly.
"Oh, sorry to hear that." He said, quite unsure of what next to say to his past student as he stood with defrosting fish in his hand.
"What can you do right?" She asked with a shrug before finishing the hotdog, "So, did you move out here after school? Or you're on vacation?" She managed through a mouth full of hotdog and he couldn't help but laugh at the unperturbed manner, finding it a bit amusing thinking back about how quiet and, different, she was when he lectured her in the first year at college.
"Vacation, couldn't dream of moving out here. I'd miss my house too much, and the city. How would I ever get to sleep without the sound of someone banging on a door at four in the morning?" They laughed together for a moment, "What about you? Vacation or moved?"
"Oh the same, vacation, here by myself, my brother was supposed to come, but he bailed on me for money. So... he's a dick, but, I'm at the beach, so, there's that." She added on a nod for good measure and he smiled.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear about your brother bailing on you, Vicky. But I hope you enjoy yourself. You know, it's my first time here, so I'm not quite sure what there is to do, so I'm probably just going to head back to my apartment and fry this up for dinner, then get some rest."
"That doesn't sound like much fun." She scowled and he chuckled, "But, now I'm thinking about fish again."
Before he could warn his brain the words flew out of his mouth, "Well there's enough for two." He wanted to slap himself.
"Really? Well in that case, I'll be joining you for dinner." She laughed and tossed her tissue at the garbage bin across from them, "Score." The word was whispered as the tissue landed in the bin.
"Score?"
"Played a bit of basketball, point guard actually, so it's a bit of a habit." Pulling a bag onto her shoulder she stood, "So, to dinner then."
"Oh you were serious?" He laughed, and scratched his head with his free hand.
"Yes. I really want some fish. I've been thinking about it for days, literally, craving. For days." She said with sigh and he smiled.
"Well, to dinner then." He replied with a nod and she almost seemed to bounce on the spot before they proceeded back to his guesthouse, Vicky prattling on every step of the way.
By the time he was turning the key in his apartment door, he found out that over the past two years, Vicky's G.P.A had remained impressive, she switched majors and that's why he never saw her again. She had a boyfriend named Joshua, but he turned out to be a cunt, and she avoided him like the plague, and from the amount of times she winded up tripping or bumping into people or things, he noted for himself that she was a bit clumsy.
"This place is pretty nice." Vicky said once they were inside, and he nodded before heading to the kitchen.
"Yeah, initially the people here were trying to sell me a timeshare, but I thought I'd rather have something I didn't need to share, and I bought one of the guesthouses at the resort, funny enough, I ended up renting it out when I don't use it. So really, all of the past four years."
"Wow..." Vicky replied following him after dropping her bag on the dining table, "You bought this on a teacher's salary Professor."
"You don't have to call me Professor, Vicky, it's fine. I haven't exactly taught you in what? Two years and we're a far way from school. Plus, Professor is just a reminder of a title I really should be forgetting for a little bit."
"Oh, right. Sorry... Profes -- right... Mr..."
"Just Philip is fine Vicky. Call me Professor on campus." He replied cutting her off before unfurling the fish from the paper and dropping it in the sink.
"Need any help?" She inquired, and he shook his head in response before reaching for a knife from the dishrack.
"I'll be pretty covered in here. I have Wi-Fi if you want to use it, I don't know. Twitter, or Instagram or something." He said and she laughed.
"Add in a bit more callousness, and a jab at the youth, and you'd sound just like one of those miserable old guys." She said in jest but the 'old' part stung him. True he knew he was older, but no one else had actually ever said it to him, and his friends were as old as he was, and they certainly didn't like to think about how much closer to death they were marching. Now in his own kitchen, he had a girl thirty years his junior saying it, playfully or not it was still a solid reminder of the fact.
"Well, whatever you young people do, go do it." He shot the words in her direction, trying to be harsh with them, but her laugh signaled that she took it as a joke before she turned and left the kitchen, leaving him too take out his little bit of silly frustration on the fish.
After cleaning and cutting the fish how he wanted, he now found himself wondering how best to prepare it, and five minutes after talking it through with himself, he decided to pan-sear it and serve with some brown rice. Some more time clattering around looking for a saucepan that he was sure he had tucked away in storage, and soon the food was going on the stove. Giving him a moment to lean against the marble counter, finally snapping himself back to reality.
"What the fuck are you doing Phil?" He questioned himself, probing his mind for answers but getting none. He currently had a twenty-year-old student in his living room, while he prepared dinner for her. In another world he might not have been bothered, but reality sets in when you were staring down the barrel of life, and if word of this ever reached the Dean, he could potentially lose his job, even if he said nothing happened, the circumstance itself was unacceptable, but then he couldn't just kick her out.
Plus, Vicky had proven to be good company thus far for the evening, and even so. Nothing happened, his mind was just wandering, making leaps and bounds. He laughed wryly at himself, it's not like she would be interested in an old guy like him anyway. The still too recent memory nettled him a bit as he remembered the word leaving her mouth. Still he found himself smiling as his mind wandered a bit.
