“Fine!” I shout, and point to the sandpit. “Get the buckets and shovels and get back in the truck!”

I start walking to my apartment.

“Where you, Daddy?” Tommy shouts.

“Getting trash bags!”

When I get back in the truck, Tommy’s already buckled in and Becca’s sitting in the middle of the front seat. “Where are we going?” she asks, trying to hide her smile.

“The stupid beach.”

We get McDonalds drive-thru on the way. I never let Tommy have this much crappy food in one day but I have no choice. We eat in the car in the parking lot at the beach. “I like today,” Tommy says.

I adjust the rear view mirror so I can look at him. He’s shoving fries down his top. Eying Becca sideways, I say, “I like today, too, buddy. It’s a shame Becca was here. She smells.”

Becca gasps and throws a fry at my head.

Tommy giggles.

I throw one over my shoulder at him.

He laughs harder.

Then Becca throws a handful at me.

I pick them up and eat them.

“You fun today, Daddy!” Tommy says.

I turn to face him. “What do you mean today? I’m fun every day.”

He shakes his head. “No you not.” Then he points to Becca. “Becca makes us fun!”

It takes Becca and I a half hour to fill one trash bag with sand using the toy shovels and buckets and I curse myself for not bringing one of the fifteen actual shovels Chazarae has stored in the garage. Tommy’s too busy rolling around in the sand to help us. “That’s one,” I tell Becca. “Another what? Five or six to go?”

Becca just smiles.

I pick up the bag to take it to my truck. It splits at the bottom and the last half hour becomes a waste.

I groan, but Becca—she cackles with laughter.

“How is this funny? We just wasted all that time!”

She shrugs and points around us. Tommy’s ankle deep in the sand, the ocean is still, and the sun is setting, turning the atmosphere an eerie orange. “Look around us and tell me again you’d rather be somewhere else,” she says.

I watch her closely as she puts one bag inside another and starts to fill it with sand. After glancing at Tommy quickly and seeing that he’s distracted, I squat down next to her. “Tommy’s right, you know? About you making us fun.”

Her gaze lifts, first to Tommy, then to me. She kisses me quickly and then looks away. “I love today.”

“Can you watch Tommy for a second? I’m just gonna grab my phone from my truck.”

She nods.

I go to my truck, get my phone, and dial Robby’s number.

“What’s up?” he says in greeting.

“Hey… is that mini loader at your house?”

“Yeah, it’s still on the trailer.” He pauses a beat. “Why?”

“What are you doing right now?”

I tell Becca not to worry about the sand anymore but don’t tell her why. So when the flood lights and the roar of Robby’s truck appear out of nowhere, Tommy instantly stops what he’s doing (using his shoes to shovel sand down in his pants) and squeals, “Uncle Robby!”

Both Robby and Kim jump out of the truck, their smiles matching Tommy’s. Tommy flies into Robby’s arms. “I hear your dad’s a goofball and forgot to get you sand for your sandpit,” he says, tickling Tommy’s side.

“Daddy a poofdoll!” Tommy laughs.

Becca comes up beside me, her arms full with all the stuff we’d brought to collect the sand. “Who’s this?” Kim says, walking toward us with a face-splitting grin and it already makes me afraid of the shit that’ll come out of her mouth. She stands in front of us, her hand out waiting. “I’m Kim.”

Becca smiles and motions to her full arms. She nudges my side and I face her. Her eyes are wide, pleading. And for a moment I’m confused. Then it hits me. “This is Becca,” I tell them, forgetting she can’t—or doesn’t like to speak. Or touch. I guess that’s why she’s carrying all that shit. She nudges my side again and jerks her head toward my truck, then lifts her arms slightly.

I nod. “I’ll give you a hand,” I tell her, pulling my keys out of my pocket.

“I guess we better start getting this sand for you, huh?” Robby says, but my back’s already turned and I’m walking toward my truck. He adds, “You ever operated a front hoe loader before?”

“Yes,” says Tommy and Robby laughs.

Kim says, “Only your dad would go to this extreme to make you happy, Tommy. You’re one lucky little dude.”

-Becca-

shame

ʃeɪm/

noun
a painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior.

That’s exactly what I feel. Not for me, but for Josh.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking down at my now empty hands while we sit in Josh’s car.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Becca.”

“I embarrassed you.”

“You did not.”

“I’m a freak.”

“What? Why?”

“You know why… the not talking or touching…”

“Hey…” He comes closer but I pull away. He sighs, his hands hovering in inch above my leg. His voice lowers to a whisper. “What’s going on?”

With my gaze still lowered and my voice strained, I tell him, “Maybe this was a bad idea. You and me… doing what we’re doing…”