Page 22 of The Version You Hide

DYLAN

The beach is calmer today, which doesn’t make for great surfing, but sitting on my board out past the breakers as the sun begins to rise is still the best way to spend the morning.

I start most of my days out here in the ocean, something I feel has become more of a necessity than a want. A way to clear my head before I get on with my day.

Tilting my head to the side, I release the kink that’s been there since the other day. I could put it down to the crooked way I slept, trying to accommodate for the giant canine that insisted on sharing my bed. But it most likely stems from the anxiety that has plagued me since that phone call with my father.

It isn’t like me to worry about the things I can’t change. I’ve always had a laid-back nature. Maybe that’s why I always found it so hard to fit in at home.

I usually don’t have to try so hard not to let things get to me, but ever since this situation with my parents escalated, my stress levels have been sent through the roof.

Finally, I sense what I think will be a decent wave and position myself on the board, anticipating the water’s movement. I begin to paddle as the wave builds, synchronizing myself with its energy. I speed up, popping up swiftly when I feel its sheer force lifting my board, guiding me into the shore.

I don’t think I’ll ever not be in awe of the ocean’s power, of the push and pull of the tides, the way it can be both tumultuous and serene.

Chance barks at me from the sand, bounding up to me like the ever-loyal companion as I wade through the shallows.

“Hey, boy,” I say as I reach down to scratch his head.

He responds with another bark, shaking wet sand and seawater all over me. I drag my board across the shore, then hoist it up under my left arm, heading for the beach house. The greatest appeal to living here is having the ocean in my backyard.

Though this modest little beach shack definitely has its issues. It’s always filled with sand, no matter how much I sweep or vacuum, and there are mysterious sounds in the night that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. The house needs constant maintenance, which I know should be the sole responsibility of my landlord, but I’ve learnt that if I wait for him to get his act together, I’m waiting all day and night.

My impatience with that sort of stuff generally gets the better of me and I end up taking matters into my own hands. Nobody could ever accuse me of not being proactive. Although it did take me two trips to Bill’s hardware and four hours to fix that leaky pipe the other night. Maybe next time I will leave it up to the landlord.

Pausing halfway to the house, I pick up a twisted lump of driftwood and throw it for Chance to fetch. He gallops off after it, collecting it as he goes. His bark resonates through the side passage between our house and the one next door. This isn’t unusual behaviour for him but the way his yelping intensifies tells me something has caught his attention.

When I round the corner to the outdoor shower, I realise why. My blood pressure rises a little higher, undoing the work of the salty waves.

My sister, Claire leans up against the side of the house, one hand on her hip, the other scrolling something on her phone. Her red locks fall loosely down around her shoulders. In her black stiletto pumps and business formal dress and blazer, she looks wildly out of place against the backdrop of beach grass that divides my house with the next.

“Finally, Dyl,” she says as she slides her phone into her bright red Gucci handbag. “I’ve been waiting here forever.”

“Nice to see you, sis,” I offer, and I do mean that. I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for my big sister, even if she has just been sent here to do my parent’s dirty work. “So… Something serious must be going down for you to have driven down from the city this early.”

“Actually, I was in Little Beach. I stayed with a friend last night.” She folds her arms across her chest, a sign she doesn’t want to be pressed with questions.

Too bad she’s in the presence of her annoying little brother.

“A friend, huh?” I query with a single raised eyebrow. “Anyone I know?”

“Nope.” She doesn’t offer any further information.

“But you have come here with ulterior motives, right?” I bend down and pull the stick from an impatient Chance’s mouth and toss it into the distance.

“Can’t a sister check up on her baby brother every once in a while?”

I aim a cynical glance her way as her phone begins to ring. She retrieves it from her bag, swiping the answer key.

“Hi, yes,” she says to the caller. “No, they need to be round… White ones, yes…With the floral centrepieces. They go much better with the lighting…Okay… Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that all about?” I flip on the outdoor shower tap and begin rinsing the salt from my skin, goosebumps forming at the sudden drop in temperature.

“Just finalising plans for the party next weekend,” she informs me, absently tapping away at her phone screen. “Which brings me to why I’m here.”

“Oh.” I turn the tap off and reach for the towel hanging over the deck railing.

Claire’s head snaps up in my direction. “Oh? What do you mean ‘oh’? Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten. You have to be there.”

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