Page 65 of Cuts like a Knife
“So show me this beach already, before we run out of time,” I say.
“Follow me.” Drew leads me out the door, and down the rickety wooden steps, over the gravel driveway and across the two-lane road to the shoulder in front of the beach-side houses. There’s no sidewalk, just scrubby plants, brushing against my ankles.
“Yeah, this seems like somewhere we’re supposed to be walking,” I say, sarcastically.
“Trust me, the public entrance is just here.”
We walk about one-lot down and then he turns onto tiny little path — little more than a thick line in the sand. Obviously, people have walked through here before, but that doesn’t make it a public entrance, and I say so.
“Drew, no. This is clearly someone’s property.”
The tiny footpath is flanked on both sides by houses. One is a huge pink stucco place, almost a mansion, but there are no cars in the driveway and it appears deserted or closed for the season. The other house is a small cottage, not unlike the one we’re staying in, but again, it looks empty.
Still.
“I know how it looks,” he says, “but I promise, this is a public beach entrance. The people who own the cottage we are in were really explicit about it. All the cottages on this stretch of road use it, but tourists who stay at the big hotels have no idea, which makes sense. I mean, we’re miles from any of the big places.”
“There’s no sign or anything,” I protest.
On one hand, I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out of this. No one is in either of the houses as far as I can see. So who cares? We’re just walking through. It shouldn’t be a thing, even if people were at home. No one owns the beach. Any beach. No matter what anyone says.
Nonetheless, on some level I guess I’ve just become a person who’s afraid to put a toe out of line. I don’t want to do anything wrong, even accidentally213.
“Lex, seriously. It’s fine. I’ve checked.” Drew sounds just the tiniest bit impatient with me. “Signage just isn’t very Bahamian.”
Worry or not, I can hear the sound of the water lapping and can smell the salt in the air. The pull of a tropical beach is too strong to resist and I decide to take Drew at his word.
I follow him along the little path, my flip flops kicking up sand that I can feel landing against the backs of my calves, and then all of a sudden, we get past the looming hulks of the houses and through the scrub and the beach comes into view.
Wow.
Chapter Eighteen
The beach is beautiful. Rather than open ocean, it’s like a sort of semi-sheltered cove. The half-moon of sand is bordered to our right by what looks to be a curving point.
The rising sun is still low in the sky, and the water sparkles through the haze. The beige sand shimmers in the early morning light, like it is mixed with mica. A few palm trees dot the beach, the fronds still and stark against the bright blue of the lightening sky. The water is a mesmerizing blend of green and blue, with no surf to speak of, just tiny, polite little waves, quietly kissing the shore.
I stop to take it all in and Drew turns back to me and laughs.
“Told ya so. These beaches are worth it, right?”
I don’t think I’ll give him the satisfaction of immediate acquiescence.
“Slow your roll, Fox. We got here five seconds ago. I haven’t had time to form an opinion just yet,” I say.
“Sure, sure. But I was right and you know it,” he says.
I follow him down the small slope until he stops, fairly close to the water, but above the high-tide line, where the sand is still fluffy and dry. He quickly lays out his floral towel, then takes mine and lays SpongeBob out beside it as well before plopping down into a sitting position.
“Here,” he says, reaching up with one hand to offer me my coffee tumbler, which he’s produced seemingly by magic, out of nowhere.
I’d completely forgotten to bring it along214.
I take it gratefully. I couldn’t get through a day without at least sixteen ounces, but I like to drink slow. Hence the tumbler215.
And all this is well and good, but how did he know?
“Thanks,” I say, grudgingly. I mean, again, I am grateful for the coffee, but how did he know? How does he always know?
