Justin begins removing buoys from the side of the boat, tossing them on the floor. When he’s finished he sits behind the wheel and cranks the motor. The first couple tries don’t take. He frowns and tries again and the motor flares to life with a low rumble. “I live at his house.”
“Not at the campground?” I’d just assumed he did.
“Nope, the guys and I share a house, one with real plumbing and everything,” he jokes.
“Har, har,” I say, but I’m surprised, although I guess I shouldn’t be. Everything about him has surprised me. Justin maneuvers the boat away from the dock and drives out into the waterway. Ahead I can see the big bridge that we took from the mainland to the island the other day. This helps me get my bearings. “So this goes past the campground?”
“Yep, a couple of miles up the waterway.”
He keeps a slow pace, careful of the other boats and docks jutting out into the water. We pass a variety of houses, some new and huge, others older and more modest. I lean back in my seat to enjoy the warm sun and breeze.
Justin settles into his own seat and points inland, slowing the boat to a crawl. “That’s my favorite house.” I follow his hand and see the bright blue house sitting on a point. Huge trees surround the property, shading the house from the hot sun. There’s a tree house perched over the edge of the water and a dock with a wide covered platform.
“It’s beautiful,” I agree. “You could have awesome parties there.”
“I’d put a swing off that tree house right over the water.”
He shifts gear and we move faster—a lot faster, plowing past other boats and countless docks. The motor and waves make it impossible to talk, but I notice him gesture ahead and I stand up for a better view. I smile when I see what he’s pointing at on the horizon. Ocean Beach Family Campground.
I lean over the edge for a better view and sure enough, Anita and the kids are playing by the water’s edge. Justin honks the boat horn and she looks up. She gives a short wave until she sees me waving back and her arm stops moving. I see her mouth something, and I yell to Justin, “What did she say?”
“I think she said, ‘What the hell?’”
I sit back in my seat and laugh because I think he’s right. I can only imagine the field day she’s going to have asking me about this when I see her next. I turn around and see her watching us as we drive away. I wave one more time. She holds a hand up but I don’t think the gesture she sent me in return would be considered friendly.
Just past the campground I see where the mouth of the waterway channels into the Atlantic. We keep going until I see a big peach-colored house on the edge of the water. “What’s that?” I ask, inhaling deeply. The scent of fried everything floats through the air.
“Lunch,” he says, cruising the boat toward a dock.
* * *
Three hours later, I’m standing by the Jeep trying to figure out what to do next. I smell like greasy food and my hair is matted into a rat’s nest from the boat ride and my face is burned again. Even so, I can’t stop smiling.
“Thanks for dragging me out of the house today,” I tell Justin when we’re both out of the car.
“You’re welcome,” he says, running a hand through his hair. It’s equal parts perfectly windblown and stylish disarray, his face is tan and smooth, and the flat stomach I saw at the beach the other day seems immune to the amount of fried shrimp and other garbage I watched him inhale.
I learned a lot about Justin over lunch. Born and raised in Ocean Beach, a business major at Clemson, with plans on taking over the marina from Richard in the next couple years. The information is hard to reconcile. He looks and acts like a southern beach bum, but there’s a lot more going on underneath that dirty ball cap. He’s smart and motivated. I tried not to let on that I’m impressed by his academic achievements but I’m pretty sure he caught on.
“So is that where you take all the new girls in town?”
“Only the ones willing to help me carry trash to the dumpster,” he jokes. I helped him throw out the trash before we left the marina. To my surprise, it was kind of fun. Everything we’ve done together has been fun. I wonder what Mason would think of that.
I internally chastise myself. Why am I thinking about Mason right now?
“I’m putting that on my resume. Expect a call for a reference someday,” I laugh. There’s a bit of awkward going on right now because this feels kind of like a date, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a date. Which is good. If he asked me on a date I’d definitely say no. But just hanging out? I can totally hang out. “I guess I’ll see you around, you know…later.”
“Let me walk you back,” he says. I start toward my camper, using the gravel path that runs between lots. Just as we reach the back of our silver monster, I hear my mother talking to someone. I grab Justin’s arm and stop him. He gives me a questioning look and I just hold my finger up to my lips.
“I can’t believe you showed up here,” my mother says, angrily.
“What did you think would happen? That I’d stay away? It’s been thirty years, Julia,” a man says in return.
Justin’s eyes grow wide. He looks down at me and mouths. “Richard.”
So my mother and Richard are fighting? I guess Justin was right about their past.
“I’m here to write a book. Not open old wounds.”