Page 21 of Here You Are

“Well, we started looking at the pictures, and he said he would give them to me for free if I went on a date with him.”

“You're such a cheapskate. You made out with him for free pictures?”

“Can you let me finish? I said no. Then he asked to “show me a good time.” It was tight quarters, I turned my head, and then we were making out. It was getting a little heated and potentially reaching the point of no return, but someone interrupted us. Then, I returned to my normal level-headed self and hid in the bathrooms when we got back.”

“That is so hot. I'm so jealous. Jealous of the make-out with the sexy boat boy, not that you're a person who hides from cute guys in a toilet stall.”

“I was never going to go out with him. That would be irresponsible and dangerous. And why would I hang out with him when I have you for company?”

“Sex. Heavy petting. Orgasms. Memories!”

“Aw, Sissy. I can make memories with you.”

The next couple of days were spent being sun lizards, drinking too much, eating too much, and realizing we were the only single people at our resort. The crowd was definitely on the older side, and married couples, people who can afford a luxury resort. As we were lying out on the beach, we noticed the staff setting up what appeared to be a wedding.

“If I ever am forced into wedlock some day, I'll be getting married on a beach, and no one is invited,” Cora proclaimed. “The thought of getting married already grosses me out, but having to engage in small talk with all of your parents’ friends and cousins you don’t even like, no thanks, man.”

“If you're ever forced into wedlock, you’d better be inviting me because I'll need to see it to believe it.”

“You're the exception. All jokes aside, I can’t even see myself doing that. I’ve never been in a relationship longer than a week. I think I'm destined to be an old maid. I wonder if it’s an older couple getting married. Or maybe it’s someone doing a vow renewal. Well, now we have a plan,” she said, stretching out to get comfortable, “Roast on this beach until we see who comes down. Better hit me with some more sunscreen.”

I reached for the SPF and started to spray her back. “I hope it’s a cute old couple in their 70s. They dated in college, but then they lost touch and got married to other people. Their spouses both died, and they made their way back to each other for a late-in-life romance, to have someone to spend their remaining years with.”

Cora spins around, getting a spray of sunscreen in her mouth. She blows raspberries in my face and rolls her eyes at me. “Ugh, you're such a romantic. I don’t even know how we are made of the same genetic material.”

The wedding party started making their way to the seating area; it was a mix of ages and couples. We see a few girls in bridesmaid dresses and a couple of men in white linen shirts and khaki pants, no shoes. It’s looking like it must be a couple around our age getting married. Wedding procession music starts to fill the air, and we see the groom head down the beach and take his place under the flowered arch. He is a very good-looking man and looks so sweet and nervous. The bride makes her way down the beach with a couple, who I assume are her parents. We are too far away to hear the wedding ceremony.

“Are you ready to go up to the room and shower?” Cora asked, starting to put her things back in her beach bag.

“You can go get a head start. I’m going to stay and finish this chapter in my book.”

As Cora is leaving, the ceremony comes to an end. The bride and groom went off to take pictures, and the resort staff started setting up tables and chairs for dinner on the beach. They are also setting up a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. This does look like the perfect way to get married. A beautiful backdrop, resort staff to do everything for you, and a small crowd of people closest to you.

Cora and I clean up and slip into beachy maxi dresses for supper. I’ve come to realize that vacationing here is mostly a matter of passing time between meals. After working so much lately, it’s a welcome relief to have nothing to think about except feeding myself—on food I didn’t have to prepare.

Cora leaned back, groaning. “I'm so full. I haven’t eaten this much in my whole life combined. Do you want to go for a walk on the beach so we don’t wake up as whales tomorrow morning?”

“Sure. Let's get some wine and go for a stroll. I got a little buzz going at supper, and I might get wild and stay up until 10 p.m. tonight.”

“Slow down, Grandma. I’m going to hit the restroom. Grab me a red wine, and I’ll meet you out front.”

We walked the resort grounds toward the beach, and it was nearly silent except for the distant sound of dance music coming from the beach and the lull of waves crashing on the shore. As the resort’s general population was older, there wasn’t much going on at night after dinner. We slipped off our sandals by the stairs and went down to the beach. The night was warm, the sand cool beneath my feet, and the breeze coming off the ocean was so refreshing. We walked about a mile down the beach, passing other resorts, most of which were just as quiet—aside from an occasional celebration beachside like the one at ours.

“Should we turn around? Too much longer and I’m going to start a fire between my thighs from the chafing,” Cora quipped. The humidity and the dresses, combined with the thick thighs passed down from our mother’s side of the family, have been creating some issues for us this week.

“Yes, I’m ready for bed.” I checked my watch. “We made it to 9 p.m. tonight! We are still young, wild, and free.”

I received some major side-eye from Cora. “This is not what I had envisioned when I thought of two young, wild, and free sisters partying in Mexico. Next time, we need to scope out the median age range of the resort we are going to. I think we should check out one of the clubs tomorrow night. I have to get my mojo back.”

I groan. “If we must.”

As we walked back to our resort, we heard the wedding reception music and people whooping it up on the dance floor. The wedding party seems to be having a blast. As we were walking by, one of the groomsmen hollered at us, but over the music and roar of the ocean, we couldn't understand what he was saying. Cora grabbed my arm and pulled me over toward the beach dance floor.

“Hey, come and dance with us!” Drunk groomsman number one shouted at us.

“Yeah, everyone here is married except us, and it’s disgusting. We need company!” Drunk groomsman number two yelled.

I stopped dead in my tracks and felt Cora pull on my arm. “Come on, Cass. Let’s go—single men at our resort. We only have one shot, one opportunity. We can’t let it slip away!”