Page 7 of Inseverable (Carolina Beach)

I hop down Your Mother’s worn wooden steps and join the rest of my crew gathered at the bottom. “Trin!” they yell when I reach them.

Since I’m the last one to exit the premises save for Jed and that Yummy Callahan, my presence is everyone’s cue to disperse. The designated drivers do their best to shove their drunk passengers into their cars, most of them swearing and cranky since they’re the ones scheduled to work in the morning and not the ones who got to slam back shots.

Mason, and a young co-ed visiting for the week are talking softly by the Brewsters’ Jaguar. He bends and kisses her slowly—very unlike the way Sean had made out with her friend on the dance floor right before closing. Goodness, Sean and his lady friend were like a pair of horny dolphins during mating season, except not as graceful and certainly not as chipper.

The Brewsters simply shrug and use it as an excuse to take a walk along the beach. The Brewsters have always been cool like that. So have Jimmy and Millie Rossen who are getting pretty friendly all over the hood of Mr. Rossen’s latest muscle car. Hopefully, the cops won’t catch them naked with Mrs. Rossen bent over the hood like last Christmas. And Easter. And yeah, Arbor Day, too. Lovely couple, the Rossens.

Hale hurries to my side, but I suspect it’s because Becca’s next to me. “Can I crash at your place, too, Trin?”

He asks me, but is looking at my very sloppy yet gorgeous friend. “Of course,” I say.

“Cool,” he answers, although yup, still giving Becks the eyes.

As per our usual Friday night festivities that come with every start of the season, we leave Becca’s jeep at Your Mother’s and head toward my place which is only a mile up the road. With Momma, Daddy, and Landon gone, I don’t mind the company. And they don’t mind their presence whether they’re home or not.

My folks are awesome. They always have been. For as long as I remember, our house was burstin’ at the seams with my friends and Landon’s. When I went away to college, that’s the first time I noticed my parents begin to age. No more kids running in and out of the house to keep them young.

It made me sad. But I suppose it made them sadder.

So now instead of trekking through malaria-infested jungles, with Landon and I in tow to immunize children or rock sick babies to sleep, Momma and Daddy spend their retirement travelling the world in style. Well, if anyone deserves a happily ever after, my folks sure do.

Becca swings her arm around me, a friendly gesture, and also one that will keep her walking straight up the incline. “Love you, Trin,” she half slurs, half yawns.

I push up on my toes to kiss her cheek. “Love you, too, Becks.”

Out of the five of us who started, I’m the most sober. And because Mr. Perrington, who is one Viagra-inspired-ejaculation away from an early grave, decided to go beer for beer with some of my boys?Mr. Perrington won by the way?we picked up another three lifeguards too drunk to drive home. They stagger behind us, excited that they’re not the ones on-call tomorrow.

“Where’s Sean?” I ask.

“Throwing up in the bushes,” Hale replies, smirking.

“And where’s that girl he was with?” I ask.

Hale laughs. “Her friends shoved her in their car when she tried to pull down his shorts.”

“Good call,” I say. I glance behind me. “Sean, you okay?”

He jogs up to me, his long limbs and condition causing him to stumble into a rather graceless swagger. “I’m good, Trin. Must’ve been that last beer.”

“Or the three shots you did off Mrs. Brewster’s belly,” I offer.

Sean nods thoughtfully. “That, too. You know, for a woman who’s well over sixty, she’s surprisingly fit.”

“Hmm-mmm” the group of us concurs.

Becca leans in closer to whisper in my ear. “What happened between you and that hot bartender? You spent a lot of time talking with him.”

She’s right, although I’m the one who did all the talking. He mostly did his best to ignore me. My multiple and animated attempts to draw his smile, only drew more scowls, and a few annoyed grunts. And yet I can’t stop my grin as I think of him. “He wants me, bad. I know he does.”

“Yeah?” Becca asks.

“Nope, not even a little bit,” I answer, laughing.

My smile diminishes as I think about Callahan’s stance: arms crossed, stare hard, and mouth clenched shut. Men can be dangerous. And scary. But those kind of men carry a certain look in their eyes. My Daddy had once compared this look to a door opening and revealing the darkness of the soul.

Callahan doesn’t have that darkness Daddy speaks of, despite the intense leveling stare. He has something more akin to the kind of grief I’d seen too many times—the type that numbs you and makes you forget what it’s like to feel.

The trips helping those in need that my parents took us on were intense, involving countries crippled by war, disaster, or poverty. Some of the people there had that same expression Callahan wears: anger, sadness, and disappointment mixed with despair. Emotions so devastating they hollow out the soul, leaving only a vacant shell behind.

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