Page 103 of Cuts like a Knife
“Okay, follow me,” says Danny. “And don’t panic311.”
I soon realize why he’d warned us. Even thought the little river-like bit of water we’re crossing is less than 100 feet across, it’s soon up over our waists, then up to the middle of my chest. Then over my shoulders. And it’s moving. Fast.
I turn behind make eye contact with Drew who is holding the canvas backpack high over his head, out out of the reach of the water and who has, while I wasn’t looking, fashioned his linen shirt into a sort of turban around his head. He grins at me and I can’t help but laugh.
A few more steps and the depth of the water is already more manageable, and moments later we are splashing our way onto the opposite side.
“Well done team,” says Danny. “Last push.”
He leads the way to a rickety staircase made of rotting wood and we hike up the steepest bit of the dune. The stair gives way to a thin path through the sand, with waist-high beach grass brushing our legs on both sides as we trudge up and along, single file.
It’s a slightly annoying climb and I’m just about to complain when we reach the crest, a gust of wind slaps me in the face, and I see where we are.
We’re on top of a dune in front of an enormous beach. It’s wide and long, stretching out into the distance on either side. Huge waves crash into the sand at regular intervals and the wind is constant, taking my breath away. There isn’t another human in sight. I can’t see a single building.
It’s the most pristine, wild, unbelievably pure beach I’ve ever seen in my life — a secret paradise. Danny lets out a whoop and breaks into a run, careening down the dune toward the wet sand, both arms thrown up into the air.
The rest of us follow.
Chapter Twenty Seven
The next few hours might be the most fun of my entire life.
The beach is equal parts exhilarating and relaxing and it wipes everything from my mind — every worry, every question. Every bit of my perpetual should-I-or-shouldn’t-I, what-if, what’s-next anxiety disappears, lost to the whipping wind, which turns our shouts into whispers, carried off before our voices can bother anyone, and lost to the brightness of the sunshine and the wildness of the sea.
It’s not that everything that’s been weighing on me is gone. It’s more that the beach is so amazing, it makes me forget for awhile.
We spend the next few hours behaving like kids. We play in the surf, which is huge without being dangerous. We swim past the breakers, float on the huge rolling swells. When we get tired, we lie on the wet sand by the shore, letting the tail ends of the waves rush up around our feet, staring up at the great blue bowl of the sky.
Eventually, Danny reveals that he’s brought snacks — a sort of rustic charcuterie situation — and we retreat to the relative shelter of the dunes to eat out of the wind.
Stepping off the beach, into the long grass and down into a hollow where the roaring wind can’t touch us feels like stepping back into the real world. The relative silence is jarring.
We eat, then Danny produces a nerf football and waves it in Drew’s face.
“You in?” He says.
Drew looks to me before agreeing.
“Oh my god, go. Like I care,” I say. The two of them bound off like puppies.
“Boys and their toys, right?” Says Maylee. “Will they ever grow out of it, I wonder?”
I shake my head. “Doubtful. At least for Drew. He’s my baby brother’s best friend, and they’re both like this.”
“Really? You’re with your baby brother’s best friend? I thought that only happened in romance novels!” She laughs.
“Well, we’re not officially together. Nobody knows, actually.”
“Huh,” she says, looking out at the wide blue stripe of water. “So you know what it’s like to have a secret then.”
“Well … sure, but it’s not really the same thing312. Thank you for bringing us here. This is the best beach I’ve ever been to in my entire life.”
“It’s really something special, right? I thought the same thing the first time Danny brought me,” she says. “It’s even where he proposed.”
She waits a beat before asking me the question that’s obviously been weighing on her.
“Look, you’re not going to write about us, right? Not yet? I feel like I’ve been really stupid on one hand — bringing you over here, telling you everything, but on the other, I don’t know.” She sighs, heavily. “Sometimes you want to be able to be real with people. This show. It’s so not us. I almost regret signing up to do it every single day, but then I remind myself that we’ve got our reasons. It’s going to be worth it.
