“You’ve done this before?”
“Every summer since I was sixteen. I used to do it with our church, but when I went off to Chapel Hill, we started a group there. Well, actually, Tim started it. He’s from Lenoir, too. He just graduated and he’ll start on his master’s degree this fall. I’ve known him forever. Instead of spending the summer working odd jobs at home or doing internships, we thought we could offer students a chance to make a difference. Everyone chips in for the house and pays their own expenses for the month, and we don’t charge anything for the labor we do on the houses. That’s why it was so important that I get my bag back. I wouldn’t have been able to eat all month.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t have let you starve.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t be fair. They’re already doing something worthy, and that’s more than enough.”
I could feel my feet slipping in the sand.
“Why Wilmington?” I asked. “I mean, why come here to build houses, instead of somewhere like Lenoir or Raleigh?”
“Because of the beach. You know how people are. It’s hard enough to get students to volunteer their time for a month, but it’s easier if it’s in a place like this. And the more people you have, the more you can do. Thirty people signed up this year.”
I nodded, conscious of how close together we were walking. “And you graduated, too?”
“No, I’ll be a senior. And I’m majoring in special education, if that’s your next question.”
“It was.”
“I figured. When you’re in college, that’s what everyone asks you.”
“Everyone asks me if I like being in the army.”
“Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
She laughed, and the sound was so melodic that I knew I wanted to hear it again.
We reached the end of the pier, and I grabbed my board. I tossed the empty beer bottle into the garbage can, hearing it clank to the bottom. Stars were coming out overhead, and the lights from the houses outlined along the dunes reminded me of bright jack-o’-lanterns.
“Do you mind if I ask what led you to join the army? Given that you don’t know whether you like it, I mean.”
It took me a second to figure out how to answer that, and I shifted my surfboard to my other arm. “I think it’s safest to say that at the time, I needed to.”
She waited for me to add more, but when I didn’t, she simply nodded.
“I’ll bet you’re glad to be back home for a little while,” she said.
“Without a doubt.”
“I’ll bet your father is glad, too, huh?”
“I think so.”
“He is. I’m sure he’s very proud of you.”
“I hope so.”
“You sound like you’re not certain.”
“You’d have to meet my dad to understand. He’s not much of a talker.”
I could see the moonlight reflected in her dark eyes, and her voice was soft when she spoke. “He doesn’t have to talk to be proud of you. He might be the kind of father who shows it in other ways.”
I thought about that, hoping it was true. While I considered it, there was a loud scream from the house, and I caught sight of a couple of coeds near the fire. One of the guys had his arms wrapped around a girl and was pushing her forward; she was laughing and fighting him off. Brad and Susan were snuggling together nearby, but Randy had vanished.
“You said you don’t know most of the people you’ll be living with?”
She shook her head, her hair sweeping her shoulders. She swiped at another strand. “Not too well. We met most of them for the first time at the sign-up, then again today when we got here. I mean, we might have seen each other around campus now and then, and I think a lot of them know each other already, but I don’t. Most of them are in fraternities and sororities. I still live in a dorm. They’re a nice bunch, though.”
As she answered, I got the feeling she was the kind of person who would never say a bad thing about anyone. Her regard for others struck me as refreshing and mature, and yet, strangely, I wasn’t surprised. It was part of that indefinable quality I’d sensed about her from the beginning, a manner that set her apart.
“How old are you?” I asked as we approached the house.
“Twenty-one. I just had a birthday last month. You?”
“Twenty-three. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“No. I was an only child. Just me and my folks. My parents still live in Lenoir, and they’re happy as clams after twenty-five years. Your turn.”
“The same. Except for me, it’s always been just me and my dad.”
I knew my answer would lead to a follow-up about the status of my mother, but to my surprise, it didn’t come. Instead she asked, “Was he the one who taught you to surf?”
“No, I picked that up on my own when I was a kid.”
“You’re good. I was watching you earlier. You made it look so easy, graceful even. It made me wish I knew how.”
“I’d be happy to teach you if you want to learn,” I volunteered. “It’s not that hard. I’ll be out tomorrow.”
She stopped and fixed her gaze on me. “Now, don’t make offers you’re not sure you intend to keep.” She reached for my arm, leaving me speechless, then motioned toward the bonfire. “You ready to meet some people?”
I swallowed, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat, which was just about the strangest thing that had ever happened to me.
The house was one of those big three-storied monsters with the garage on the bottom and probably six or seven bedrooms. A massive deck circled the main level; towels were slung over the railings, and I could hear the sound of multiple conversations coming from all directions. A grill stood on the deck, and I could smell the hot dogs and chicken cooking; the guy leaning over it was shirtless and wearing a do-rag, trying to come across as urban cool. It wasn’t working, but it did make me laugh.
On the sand out front, the fire was set into a pit, with several girls in oversize sweatshirts seated in chairs circling it, all pretending to be oblivious to the boys around them. Meanwhile, the guys stood just beyond them, looking as if they were trying to pose in a way that accentuated the size of their arms or sculpted abs and acting as if they didn’t notice the girls at all. I’d seen all this at Leroy’s before; educated or not, kids were still kids. They were in their early twenties, and lust was in the air. Throw in the beach and beer, and I could guess what would happen later; but I would be long gone by then.
When Savannah and I drew near, she slowed before pointing. “How about over there, by the dune?” she suggested.
“Sure.”
We took a seat facing the fire. A few of the other girls stared, checking out the new guy, before retreating into their conversations. Randy finally wandered toward the fire with a beer, saw Savannah and me, and quickly turned his back, following the example of the girls.
“Chicken or hot dog?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to all of this.
“Chicken.”
“What do you want to drink?”
The firelight made her look newly mysterious. “Whatever you’re having’s fine. Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.”
She headed toward the steps, and I forced myself not to follow. Instead I walked toward the fire, slipped off my shirt, and laid it over an empty chair, then returned to my seat. Glancing up, I saw do-rag flirting with Savannah, felt a surge of tension, then turned away to get a better grip on things. I knew little about her and knew even less about what she thought of me. Besides, I had no desire to start something I couldn’t finish. I was leaving in a couple of weeks, and none of this would amount to anything. I told myself all those things, and I think I partially convinced myself that I’d head home just as soon as I finished eating, when my thoughts were interrupted by the
