Life.Guard.(2)

A short story. Part 2.

Previously... Part1

A vague light blinked in the distance. The evening dusk crept upon the bay with every wave washing the shore in grey. There was a different kind of magic to the cloudy evening hour by the sea. She left the bright sunny mornings of summer behind her. August always came as an early breath of Autumn. Cool mornings followed dark starlit nights. The all-too-familiar fear choked her. She went into the sea in hope to drown the feeling. The distant lighthouse was pulsing like a heartbeat. Don’t, don’t, don’t, it seemed to beg. She sighed and swam back to the shore. Until next time, she whispered to the blinking light.

Something was different. The old lifeguard’s post… Lauren squinted her eyes; it was nearly dark. Maybe they’ll finally remove that shack from the beach. Good! Lauren didn’t need this grim witness of her unsuccessful attempts to become the sea. Every time it felt as if the old shack sat there observing her with the dark eyes of its windows. The shack knew. It held the memory of the day Lauren wished to erase. The shack judged her. No one else dared.

A bunch of teenage boys passed, illuminating Lauren’s nude breasts with their phone lights.

“Whoa, nice tits!” They gasped and whistled.

“Thanks!” Lauren chuckled. At least somebody appreciated them before they were chopped off.

Lauren always swam topless. It was not the right place for it, and somebody might call the cops, but she didn’t care. Ever since Nana’s death, Lauren knew she’ll follow her one day. First it was Nana. Then Mom. Then Audrey. Now it was Lauren’s turn. She didn’t even care about the test results; the weakness in her bones meant it was back. But this time it’ll take her. Oh, no you won’t! Lauren objected. If anybody takes my life, it’ll be me! With both of my tits still attached to me!

“Hey, you wanna get down?” One of the teens asked with others laughing and roaring.

“Don’t push your luck, buddy!” Lauren said in a calm, motherly tone; she was ten years older than these boys. They exchanged some more pleasantries, until a huge guy with a furious pair of German shepherds barked the teens away. The boys cussed at the dogs, but ran off, nevertheless. Lauren got dressed and walked home.

They said the fresh air of the sea would be good for her. The curse of cancer haunted the women of her family ever since she could remember. The sea couldn’t save her, even though she spent every summer in this town since the age of sixteen.

Lauren’s whole life was spent in hospitals. First visiting Nana. After her death, it was Mom. By the time her aunt Audrey got sick, Lauren was almost eighteen, she knew she’s next. Aunt Audrey had both of her breasts removed. It didn’t help. The cancer spread like wildfire. Her body gave in.

Another grey dusk brought Lauren to the water’s edge. She looked back before taking her clothes off. Was there a movement in the old lifeguard’s station? Probably not. Lauren waded into the perfectly grey sea. The evening was calm and warm, a reverent silence of a funeral.

Lauren swam until complete exhaustion overtook her limbs. This was it. No turning back, no regrets. Her body wouldn’t give into death easily. Funny, how that worked. Her body wouldn’t submit to her attempts to kill it, while it gave into the disease just like that!

Lauren cried out and submerged, only to let her body find its way back to the surface for a breath. Oh, no you don’t! She tried again. This was it. This time she’ll win.

Sam wasn’t thinking at all. He ran, dived headfirst and before he had time to question his own actions, he pulled the woman up. She fought back, coughing and cussing, kicking and yelling, wiggling in his arms like a fish. Sam pulled her along without a word, his drunk mind kept rewinding Ricky’s voice over and over again.

Back to the start, Sammy! When they were kids, Ricky always saved insects drowning in puddles, even the spiders and wasps, even if they would sting him. Sam chickened out; he would never touch insects.

“Let go, you fucking idiot! Arrrggh!” She kept screeching. Sam held her in a tight grip. Ricky had dared him to pull a spider from the puddle with his bare hands. Sam got his shit together and did it.

“What the fuck, let go!” She yelled. Sam snapped out of the strange apathy, his hands holding a life he just saved, while his soul seemed barely present.

“Are you the fucking lifeguard? I thought… I thought they’re taking that old thing down?” She said, breathing rapidly.

Sam carried her to the shore overwhelmed; he had just saved a life.

“I’m…I’m not…” he stuttered. He laid her down on the beach.

“Everything okay?” A couple of joggers had stopped, the lights from their headgears illuminated the unflattering sight of a half-naked Sam and the woman.

“Oh… yeah… um I had a cramp and he… he’s the lifeguard!” She stammered to Sam’s surprise.

“You sure you’re okay? Maybe we should call the cops?”

“Yeah, I’m okay! Really!” She got up, covering her breasts with her own clothes.

The joggers ran onward into the darkness.

“Fuck…” she spewed out.

“I’m not a lifeguard.”

“So I figured. Lifeguards shouldn’t stink like whiskey,” she obviously sensed his breath. “I could use some of that stuff now. You have any left?”

“There,” Sam waved at the old lifeguard’s post. Warm light poured gently into the dark from the shack’s windows.

“You were drinking in there?”

“Yeah, I… um… had to figure some stuff out,” Sam said. He noticed her shivering.

“I have whiskey and wine there, and a towel. I’m not a psycho or anything, I swear…”

She burst out in a frantic laughter.

“I could definitely use some whiskey now.”

“So, you’re a squatter? Nice! I like the shabby romantic setting,” she said smiling, after they entered the shack. Sam mused how everything can change within minutes -  it was meant to be a funeral but now the place really had an eerily-romantic glow to it. Or maybe it was the whiskey in his system.

“I guess so, yeah. Thanks,” he handed her the bottle. “I don’t have a glass. Wasn’t planning to have company.”

She took the bottle and drank. Sam’s drunk eyes kept gliding over her breasts. She wore a white T-shirt on her wet skin.

“You like ‘em?” She asked after a couple of mouthfuls of whiskey.

“What, oh no… I’m sorry!” He tried to control his eyes, while she laughed and took off the wet T-shirt.

“I think they’re nice, despite the tiny asymmetry,” she said looking down on her breasts. “What do you say?”

Sam stared like an idiot.

“Nice? M-hm…”

“I don’t mind people looking at them before they cut them off. I mean, I’m not doing porn or anything. But it’s nice someone appreciates my boobs before they go.”

“Cut them…? Um… why?” Sam struggled to get his drunk eyes look upward at her face. Although it shouldn’t be hard - he liked her face almost as much as her boobs.

“All the women in my family had breast cancer. It’s like we’re cursed or something. First, they chopped off the boobs, then they died anyway.” She sat down on the couch.

Sam handed her the towel with his hands shaking. She wrapped herself in it and slipped off the wet bikini panties. Sam on the other hand got dressed into dry clothes while she observed him and drank his whiskey. He sat on the couch, they shared the drink, sitting in silence.

“So, you just broke in here to drink…?”

“Sam.”

“Sam, the wannabe lifeguard and the squatter,” she teased.

“No… I had some issues, and needed to get away, and…” Sam stuttered staring at his feet. The scattered pills laid on the floor like white ghastly seeds.

“I know a thing or two about issues,” she said rolling a Xanax pill with her toe. Their eyes met.

“Were you really trying to…?”

Sam didn’t get to finish his question because she leaned closer and kissed him. It took Sam a couple of minutes to comprehend that the lips of a total stranger were pressed to his. He pulled back frantically.

“What?” She smiled nervously, while the towel slipped lower revealing her cleavage.

“Whoa… I… don’t get me wrong, I think your boobs are awesome, no, I mean you’re beautiful, but… I don’t even know your name!” Sam couldn’t stop himself from babbling, simultaneously feeling like a complete idiot.

“Okay, then! That was awkward, I thought… okay never mind!” She got up, grabbed her stuff, and walked to the door.

“Bye, Sam!”

“Bye, um…”

“It’s Lauren,” she said before slamming the door.

“Bye, Lauren!” Sam yelled at the door. What a fucking dumbass! Idiot! Sam grabbed his head, why was he so damn slow?! It was like a giant cotton ball had swallowed his emotions; he was so damn slow! A beautiful woman threw herself at him and he jumped back like a coy pre-teen. A bit of romantic making-out in the candlelight wouldn’t have hurt anyone. Aaaargh! Sam got up kicking the pills around the floor. He ran out into the pitch-black night, kicking sand and cussing, before lying himself flat on the cold, damp sand. He pulled the cigarettes and a lighter out his pocket. The whispers of the sea were quietly consoling him; calm down, calm down… the stars blinked above him. Sam closed his eyes taking a drag on his cig; he would’ve been up there with the stars by now if it wasn’t for that…Lauren.

“Whoa!” Sam cried out at the sight of her leaning above him. He dropped the cigarette startled.

“Are you done making sand angels?” she said with thinly veiled ridicule in her voice.

“Shit, I’m sorry about earlier!”

“No, I was being a bit slutty. I always feel like there’s nothing left to lose, so I just go along with whatever feels good.”

He laid staring at her, a warm lump of darkness sitting down beside him.

“Why did you come back?”

“I had to return the towel, and…I just met this cute guy squatting in an abandoned beach house, and I’d be damned if I walk away from sitting in the candlelight, drinking the night away with him,” Sam could sense her smiling in the dark, “you seem like a fun guy.”

“I don’t know about fun,” he smiled back to the warm dark night.

“Why don’t you let me check it out on my own?”

Lauren stayed all night. Sam was drunk on her laughter and her laid-back attitude. She just wanted to have fun.

“So, your ex…” she said lying on the couch with her feet in Sam’s lap.

“Latina… Linda…whatever…” Sam was completely wasted.

“Lindawhatever…” Lauren repeated, and their drunk laughter made the candle flicker nervously. “Why did you ever get together, when you obviously didn’t…”

“She made me feel alive… you know? She was like an explosion of colours… boom!” Sam gestured expressively. “Her ex was abusive. I guess she felt safe with me… until she got bored…and tired from all the suicidal shit, she said…”

“But you’re a lifeguard…” Lauren pondered, “you can’t be suicidal… and you’re too cute to die…”

“I’m not a lifeguard,” Sam said laughing.

“You are my lifeguard. You fucked up my pretty drowning. It was a perfect night.”

“I’m sorry…”

Lauren sat up and brushed the dark strands of hair from his face.

“Will you be my suicide buddy? You were going to do it tonight, right?”

“It was a perfect night,” Sam smiled, she was beautifully drunk, her pretty feet felt warm in his lap.

“It still is,” Lauren said, just before he moved his face closer to her and they kissed.

***

It took Sam a while to realise where he was… when he finally got to his senses, Sam had to admit - this was the best hangover he ever had. He laid spooning Lauren in a tight embrace, it was warm, sweet and kind of innocent. He dug his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. The headache was only a minor inconvenience, a sacrifice to receive this warm and glowing feeling born in his chest overnight. The candle on the table had burned out, but its warm flame was burning inside him now.

Life is precious… a thought out of nowhere resounded in his head, as he held Lauren closer. Her breathing was calm and soothing like the waves of the night-time sea. She snugged in his arms as if they’d been lying like this for years.

The time had stopped, this is forever, Sam thought.

You’re cheating, Sammy! It doesn’t count! Back to the start! Little Ricky’s voice woke him from the heavenly oblivion. Sam didn’t deserve happiness. Not since Ricky’s death. Guilt was a cold-blooded murderer.

Sam stirred, and Lauren opened her eyes.

“Mmm… you’re still here. And you’re still cute. Usually, they’re either gone or hideous the next morning…” Lauren mumbled turning toward him on the narrow couch. Sam didn’t want to delve into her words, he comprehended she probably was well-used to waking up with strangers. She was the kind of a woman Sam’s therapist would’ve called problematic and suggested not to start a, most likely, toxic relationship with her.

“Fuck, this headache is the worst…”

Sam pulled her even closer and kissed her.

“Better?”

“M-hm…”

Lauren heard the seagulls outside.

“Whoa!” She jumped up. The view of the waking sea greeted her with a bright sunny smile. She moaned and laughed lying down near Sam. “This is the best squatting place in the world! But the headache is a bitch!”

Both stumbled out into the sunlight, holding each other close. Sam couldn’t really tell why, it just felt good, comforting, and natural, like they’d always been together. They waded into the cold water together, they smiled and laughed at the waves smashing against their hips. Lauren squealed with the seagulls, Sam laughed splashing her from head to toes. The joggers and early morning dog-walkers smiled at them. Young love, the old lady with the obese chihuahua said. Sam shook his head; this wasn’t love. Yesterday it was an accidental lifeguard’s mission and drinking away the loneliness, today it was the cure for their hangover. Sam didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Today was good.

“So, this place is cool, but there’s no electricity or toilet. How do you…?” Lauren asked while they laid on the beach in their underwear; the sun burned hot again. Sam’s eyes traced the lace hem of her black bra.

“Huh? Oh…” he chuckled, “it’s just like camping. We have plenty of spades, you just go behind the shack, dig a whole…”

“Okay, shut up, shut up! I’ve been camping before!” She laughed and tickled him. Both ended up making out on the beach, until a couple of joggers laughed and yelled their “get a room” while passing by. Sam and Lauren didn’t hurry. There was nowhere to go, the heatwave made them slow and lazy.

“What do you say I join your summer camp?” Lauren asked as they walked back to the shack.

“The cops might show up anytime, because I really am breaking the law.”

“I don’t care.”

“And there’s no electricity, or running water, or toilet.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?”

“You don’t want me around. I get it,” Lauren snapped. Sam had a hunch she might be a moody-type-of-a-girl, but he couldn’t help but smile. She was pretty when she frowned, it was like enduring a kitten’s anger.

He embraced her, and whispered, “of course I do. We’re suicide buddies, remember?”

“Promise we’ll do it together?”

“I promise.”

---

To be continued…