I was dragged out of my bizarre dream by the deceleration and sudden shift of the seat inside the stuffy cabin. I couldn't remember what flight I was on or what my destination was to be but as soon as my eyes finally focused through my Wayfarers, I realized wasn't in a plane, but in the belly of 'The Beast.' We were headed for our beach house on the Carolina coast, where we would spend the next month.
'The Beast' was our nickname for the nondescript GM van Dad had bought years ago. The gleaming black thing had caught his eye one day as he was driving home from work. He stopped and gave it the once over, determined that it was destined to be his 'dream machine' reminding him of the van in 'The A-Team' he'd watched as a kid and he haggled a price with the lot owner.
Since acquiring it he had it repainted, had the interior redone, washed and waxed it weekly, had it serviced without fail and appointed it the official vacation vehicle for every trip we made. We called it 'The Beast' because it was a little intimidating at first sight, being completely black with dark tinted windows. Made long before hybrids or the thought of fuel efficiency Dad refused the air conditioning to be used since it was an unnecessary pull on gas. A successful accountant, he kept details of the milage of every trip carefully detailed in a small ledger stored in the glove compartment that Mom dutifully noted during trips as his designated secretary. The Beast lived under a separate parking canopy beside the garage over an ever increasing oil stain.
We glided to a stop under a shady spot of palm trees at the very end of the nearly empty parking lot.
"Why are you parking so far away? There are tons of spaces closer." Mom asked.
"What's the point of stretching your legs if your parking next to the front door? Besides, I don't want assholes banging up this baby with their doors."
Mom didn't argue the point that there were only three other cars in the lot and I didn't blame her. Arguing with Dad was taxing for even the young at heart and, believe me, I'd done my share.
"God, I need to take a dump." Dad said.
"Evan!" Mom said, and although I couldn't see her eyes, I knew she was wincing.
"What?"
"Can't you just say 'I need to be excused?'"
Dad sighed, looking straight ahead, slumping his shoulders. "I didn't burp or fart, so I don't need to be excused. I need to take a dump. But," he lifted his right forefinger from the steering wheel to accent his point, "give me another second and I'll need to be excused."
"Don't you dare!" Mom exclaimed. "Just get out and I'll wake the kids."
"Don't you dare!" Dad shot back. "Those two asleep is the only peace we'll get on this trip. We'll be stopping for lunch soon. Just let 'em be."
"We can't leave them alone."
"Natalie," Dad said exasperated. "They're eighteen, not eight. Anybody tries to take those two deserves what they get. They'll be fine." He grabbed the morning paper stowed in the carrying net behind the seat and opened the driver's door. I watched them exit the van and walk over to the sidewalk. Dad had the paper crammed under his right arm that held his empty coffee cup while tugging the seat of his Bermuda shorts with his left hand freeing his boxers from his crack. Mom swatted his had away as if someone they may know might suddenly drive by. Anyone watching them knew they would stay together until death did them part.
I watched as they meandered up the stone path to the ugly stone and stucco building. I looked to my right at Hannah, who had wisely turned her swivel seat around facing the back of the van before we departed. Knowing the air conditioning ban we were both dressed in bare minimums. I was wearing only swim trunks and she was wearing her red polka dot bikini briefs and a cut off grey tank top with Bugs Bunny on the front with a caption saying 'What's Up, Doc?" She wasn't wearing a bra but she didn't need one. Hannah's tits where only an 'A' size, but they were perky and perfect and her hard nipples poked out against the worn fabric. Her tan legs were stretched out on the bench seat behind us. Her long blonde hair was covering her right arm that her head was resting on. The white cord of her headphones spilled out below and I could hear but not make out what song she was listening to. It was just loud enough to drown out Mom and Dad.
I considered my options. I knew I wouldn't go back to sleep and I should get out and stretch my legs. I could even stand to take a piss but, in the time it would take to put on my tennis shoes and make the journey up to rest center, Dad would already have rendered the facilities uninhabitable to anyone without assisted breathing devices.
All of the side windows were popped open and there was a humid but strong breeze blowing through. I glanced out at the three other vehicles, of which the farthest from us was inhabited by an oversized man stretched back sleeping, his left hand resting on his crotch, his right hand resting inside a bag of Doritos. The car beside his was empty, the occupants no doubt inside. The third was a Winnebago parked on the opposite side of the lot taking up four spaces. An elderly man and woman were walking a mangy looking poodle that would no doubt precede both of them in death, probably soon considering the painful way it walked looking for a place to relieve itself.
I looked back over at my twin sister in her white rimmed shades. She hadn't moved since I woke up. I relaxed in my seat deciding to wait for Mom and Dad to return and folded my hands across my stomach. I looked down at my feet resting on the folded beach towel on top the cooler in front of me and watched as the tent slowly rose in my swim trunks.
