Summer Day (Flash Fiction)

“Wind’s picking up,” said Sayaka.
Kenji looked up at the banners advertising wetsuits and sailboards by the beach house. They were fluttering, but gently.
“Not strong enough. Besides, the tide is lowering.”
He turned his gaze to the beach which was getting wider as the tide receded, leaving puddles of water on the rippled sand. A sailboarder was lumbering along carrying his board back from the sea.
“I think we are done with sailing for today,” said Kenji.
“What are you going to do?”
“We might have a campfire tonight or rent a barbeque grill.”
“It’s boring here.”
“Skipper and Michael will be back with beer soon. Some more girls might join us.”
“I don’t care about the girls and I don’t want beer. Where are you staying?”
“I have a tent.”
“Why can’t you rent a cabin?”
“I have a tent.”
He kept looking at the sea as he talked, away from her.
“I’m not going to fuck you in your tent.”
He turned to her. She looked away, toward the sea.
“What did you say?”
“Is that what you’re here for?”
“Fine. I have a tent.”
A man in the distance was throwing a Frisbee for his dog on the wide wet sand.
“I don’t care,” she said.
Kenji just reclined on his canvas chair and pulled his straw hat over his face. Silent.
“How long are you staying on the beach?”
“I don’t know. Last year we did eleven days. On Kuroshima. Wasn’t planning on it. We ended up staying until the beer ran out.”
“What’s on Kuroshima?”
“Nothing. Nobody. Some falcons. We saw an owl too.”
“What were you doing for eleven days?”
“Sailing, swimming, fishing, diving for abalone, clamming. Drinking beer.”
“Sounds boring.”
The afternoon sun was shifting low, getting yellowish but not yet orange.
“I liked it better when we went to the hotel in Miyazaki,” she said. “That room with a big terrace overlooking the sea and golf courses.”
“That was half business. Besides, you don’t even play golf.”
“I rode a horse.”
“You couldn’t even get it to a trot.”
“It was my first time.”
Kenji sneered, like he had something lewd to say.
“Whatever,” he said.
Sayaka picked up her beach bags.
“I’m going home. I’m taking a bus.”
Kenji looked at her half heartedly from under his hat.
“Suit yourself.”
Just as she walked off, the Skipper and Michael returned, alohas flapping over their bare chests and bathing trunks, with plastic bags of beer and food in both hands. They were trailed by three women in bikinis.
When they reached Kenji, the middle-aged skipper looked over his sunglasses at the girl walking away.
“Where is Sayaka-chan going?”
“She’s going home. She’s taking the bus. She says it’s boring here.”
The skipper laughed.
“I told you she was too young for you. Here, have a beer.”
He gestured over the vast expanse of rippled sand dotted with tide pools.
“Isn’t this a grand summer day?”
“Yeah, it’s great.”

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