Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2016 20:36:35 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME   Chapter  17

DYLAN'S VACATION BACK HOME



Chapter  17



by  Donny Mumford




By  eight o'clock Saturday morning Chubby and I have finished our breakfast
and  we're on our way to Stop and Shop. Everything is more expensive in
Wildwood so  we buy what we can here and bring it with us. Things like snacks,
soft drinks,  eggs, butter, cereal and whatever else catches our eye as we
wheel the shopping  cart up and down the aisles. The last thing we put in the
cart is a ten pound  bag of ice. On vacation we normally have a couple of
dinners at the rented  condo, and then go out to eat the other nights.

Perishable food we bought at  Stop & Shop goes into a cooler covered with ice. The
cooler goes in my mom's  Volvo station wagon along with the nonperishable
items. When we've done that,  Chubby mumbles, "Okay, let's get the two cases
of beer now. They're sitting  in the foyer at my place."


We  get the beer and put it in the back of the station wagon along with
everything  else we can fit in there. I'm reading from the computer list of
things we want  to bring with us, and one by one we load the items in either
the station wagon  or our Jeep. The back seat of the station wagon is left
empty for the moms'  personal things. Stuff for our Jeep includes our clothes
and the electronics,  like my Xbox 360 and two wireless controllers, lap
tops, headphones, CD  player, CDs, and a portable TV for our room. When we think
we're done loading  everything Chubby spots the beach chairs and umbrella
left in the garage. I  mutter, "Balls," and we rearrange everything in the
back of the station wagon so  we can fit the chairs and umbrella in there too.

Chubby asks, "That's gotta be  everything, right?" I shrug, "We're probably
forgetting something. We always do,  but we've packed the most important
stuff."

This is not the fun part of a vacation, but it's gotta  be done and we've
worked up a sweat doing it. We shower, put on shorts and a  t-shirt then meet
at the Jeep with me carrying my toiletry kit that now includes  a razor and
shaving creme.  Tossing the satchel in the back of the Jeep we light a
cigarette to share while  trying to think of anything  important that we've
forgetting, then remember the rental agreement. Jesus!  That's kind of
important. Chubby goes up to his condo to get it and I get a  football from the
storage area and toss it in the back of the Jeep. We might  want to throw it
around on the beach. Chubby puts the rental papers in the glove  compartment,
and mumbles, "The hell with whatever we've forgotten, let's  go."

I  drive west onto route 9 and stay on it through Framingham until
connecting with  I-90W, which is the Mass Pike. We've got the radio on loud 'cause
we're not in  the mood for a lot of talking. We get off the Mass Pike at exit
9 and take  I-84W, staying on it until it connects with CT-15 S, which I
take until we  connect with I-95 south. So far it's much the same route we
took on our Florida  trip to Fort Lauderdale. Before going up the ramp for I-95
though, we stop for  lunch at a Wendy's. The restaurant is conveniently
located right next to a  Mobile station. After eating we fill the tank with gas
and Chubby takes over the  driving. We get on I-95 and stay on it until it
connects with the New Jersey  Turnpike, which eventually connects with the
Garden State Parkway. Chubby  finally gets off the parkway at the exit for
NJ-147, and that takes us into  Wildwood. The trip took a little over six
hours. The moms will make the same  trip in closer to seven hours, and they
won't stop for lunch like we did.  They'll have lunch at home and should arrive
here in time for a late cocktail  hour. I don't know when the twin fiancés
will arrive, but we're guessing they'll  get here about the same time the
moms do. Those two guys are staying at a motel  a block away from our place. A
three or four bedroom condos, like we're staying  in, is much too big and
expensive for just two people.

Okay,  so far vacation sucks, but when the moms arrive and we unload the
Volvo, then  the negative stuff is totally done with until next Saturday when
we do  everything all over again. Vacation rentals in Wildwood have a
check-in  time of two o'clock, and it's almost four o'clock now, so I ask Chubby,
"Do you  remember how to get to the rental office?" He shakes his head, "Not
really," so  I program the address into the GPS. In fifteen minutes we're
there. Lots of  traffic on Saturdays because hundreds, maybe thousands of
families are doing the  same thing we're doing at about the same time. Chubby
parks outside the rental  office and we sit here looking at each other,
neither of us wanting to  deal with the rental people. I finally mumble, "Okay,
I'll get the keys." Inside  the office there's a deeply tanned woman at the
desk dealing with a couple who  have two teenage boys sitting in the waiting
room seats. Neither boy is worth a  second look, so I lean against the wall
waiting my turn.

It's  not moving along very quickly, but the people ahead of me finally
leave and I  walk up to the desk. The deeply tanned lady asks, "Do you have
your paper work?"  I hand her the rental agreement that's paid in full as of
last February.  Unnecessarily, I mumble, "I'm picking up the keys for this
condo." She  says, "Some ID, please." As I hold out my license the woman's
distracted by  a tow-headed girl, about sixteen or seventeen years old, who
comes in from the  back, snottily saying, "Are you satisfied now, Mother? I
lathered myself with  that damned sun screen lotion and now I'm sticky and
yucky! I'm going out with  Malinda now so I need the car keys." The girl's face
and shoulders are sunburned  a shiny bright red. The mother, says, "No,
you're not going out, April. You should have put the sun screen on this morning
like I told you to."

The  front door of the rental office opens with a husband and wife coming
in. The  woman stand too closely behind me so I glance back seeing an
overweight woman  who looks back at me defiantly. What the fuck? Her husband's a
thin tall man  with a seriously receding hairline and he's holding a
red-bordered rental  agreement like the one I just gave the lady. Holding hands with
the lady is a  whining four or five year old boy. Mother is telling him in a
too-loud voice,  "We'll get our key, hopefully quickly, so we can finally
get to our summer home  and you can have your nappy-poo." Why is this bitch
talking so loudly? Is her  kid hard of hearing? Then she adds, "If this nice
young man will hurry up and  get his key we can begin having fun." The kid
yells, "With Teddy!" The woman's  probably speaking loudly for our benefit,
not her kid's. She's informing all  concerned that it's more important for
her to quickly get her keys than it is  for unimportant me to get mine. After
all I don't have a kid who needs his  nappy-poo.

The  tow-haired sunburned girl openly sneers at the woman, then mocks her
mother,  mimicking the last thing she said, "Like I told you to." The real
estate woman  turns around and says to her daughter, "You're too sunburned to
be outside!" The  girl yells, "Oh for god sake, don't patronize me mother! I
know to stay out of  the damned sun! Where are the car keys?" Now the
woman's slowly looking through  a drawer in her desk for my keys, clearly
frustrated, so I put my license  away. She finds the keys and hands them to me
along with a paper,  telling me, "This is a list of 'dos and don'ts" regarding
your rental unit.  Please read it and then sign here," as she points
unnecessarily to where it  says, 'Signature'.

While  I'm purposely taking my time looking at the list, not really reading
it, the  sunburned girl says, "I'm leaving,; give me the damn keys,
Mother!" Behind me  the husband and wife are shuffling there feet doing impatient
sighs, then the  woman behind me, in a stage whisper, says, "We're never
dealing with this real  estate office again. These people..." and she lets out an
exasperated noisy  exhale. Glancing back, I see the four year old boy at the
coffee table in front  of the chairs these people should be sitting in.

He's sucking his thumb while  silently and deliberately pushing the magazines
off the table. One by one he  slides them over to the edge and then off the
coffee table onto the floor. To  further annoy the lady who's standing too
closely behind me, I point to a random  line on the list, asking the lady
behind the desk, "What's this mean?" The  rental lady looks at the random line
I'm pointing at, then shrugs, saying, "It  means just what it says: don't
leave the gas burners on when you're not using  the cook top." I go, "Yeah,
that's what I thought it meant." More exasperated  deep breathing behind me.

The  tow-haired bratty teenager is now going through her mother's purse.

The mother  hops up off her chair and they have a tug of war with the purse.

The woman  behind me says, "Would you hurry up, please! We have a young child
with us." A  young child she's not paying any attention to. I almost blurt
out a laugh at her  frustration, then notice where I'm supposed to sign the
rental agreement:  it reads, Signature of adult twenty-five and older. The
mother's got  the purse, but her daughter has the car keys. I sign the form
and the lady  behind me nudges me out of the way, telling her husband, "Roy,
give me the damn  rental form. I'll take care of this." The rental lady is
royally pissed-off at  her daughter, but forces a smile, saying to me through
clenched teeth, "I hope  you enjoy your week. The weather forecast is good
for the entire week." I  pretend to stumble, as if it's the fault of the
officious and impatient women  who's next to me now, as I mumble, "Thank you,"

then, "Um, excuse me!" to the  pushy lady who's holding the rental form
towards the real estate lady. As I'm  leaving, the snotty girl comes out with
me. On the steps of the rental office,  she says to me, "You're smoking-hot
and sexy! Wanna party?" Smiling, I ask, "Do  you know what the word 'melanoma'
means?" She wiggles her body, saying, "No, why  don't you tell me?" The
rental woman comes out the door as I'm getting in the  Jeep. I hear her yell at
her daughter, "Don't you ever fucking..." and that's all  I hear as I slam
the passenger door. Looking through the glass door of the real  estate office
I see the couple inside fuming-mad and yelling at each other.  They're
ignoring the boy who's now standing on the coffee table, his head back  wailing
away. Seems like a nice family.

Chubby's  surprised, "They gave you the keys just like that?" I go, "Yeah,
why?" and he  laughs, "Bro, last year I had to go through all kinds of shit
because I wasn't  twenty-one signing for the keys." I shrug, "It's even
worse with this real  estate office. You need to be twenty-five." He's like,
"She thought you were  twenty-five? Ya gotta be shitting me!" I go, "Oh well,
no, the rental lady was a  bit distracted and never checked my driver's
license," and I tell him about it.  He goes, "Melanoma and a mother who thinks
she's special because she has a  child. Sweet!" We drives away from the rental
office with me reading out-loud  the directions to our condo from the
receipt, but we soon realize we've been  driving in circles. I say, "These
directions blow," and then we both go, "Duh!"  and I load the address into the
GPS, muttering, "Why didn't we do this in the  first place?"

We're  idling outside our rental property in less then ten minutes. It's a
newly  renovated two story house with a condo on each floor. It's in a block
of similar  houses. We're the first house on the end, and we have a
driveway this year. It's  a gravel driveway next to the house. We look at each
other, Chubby shrugs, and  drives up the driveway to the back door. I go, "We're
on the second floor like  last year." This isn't the same place as last
year's condo, but it's almost  identical. There are two door in front; one for
each floor's condo. In addition  there's back doors that should be used when
coming in from the beach. Outside  steps lead to our second floor condo's
deck. Next to the steps at the back of  the condo is a partially enclosed
outdoor shower, and next to that there's a  hose attached to a spigot  with a
sign urging renters to: 'Please wash sand off before going  inside'.

We  take a deep breath, relieved we're finally here, then get out of the
Jeep and  start lugging everything from the Jeep up the stairs to the deck,
and then into  the condo through French doors off they deck. Inside the place
looks brand  new although we know the renovation was done the summer before
last. We crank up  the AC and while muttering to ourselves, make four trips
from the Jeep up and  down the stairs. Sweating, we plop our asses on
captain's deck chairs. It's  almost ninety degrees today, but up here on the deck
there's a nice ocean  breeze. Chubby says, "Why didn't we think to bring one
of the beer cases  with us?" I shrug, mumbling, "We're dumb, I guess." From
our deck we can  partially see the end of the boardwalk two blocks to our
left, with stores on  both sides of the street leading to it. Lighting a
cigarette, Chubby mutters,  "Are we having fun yet?" I snort a laugh, "It's like
this every year, Chub.  Actually it's better than it used to be. Remember
before we bought the Jeep we  were all crowded into the Volvo with the mom's
taking turns driving at below the  speed limit?" He goes, "Oh yeah, and the
AC never worked so the windows were  down with gas fumes and hot humid air
noisily blowing in on us for seven hours."  I nod, "And all the stuff we
brought with us was packed all around us. This was  fun compared to that." He
passes me the cigarette, saying, "Yeah, when you put  it that way, wheeee
yippee, this was fun!" I chuckle, "Not that much fun, but by  comparison this
morning was a pleasant experience."

Chubby  says, "Fuck it anyway, I'm feeling good now. Most of the 'shit'
part of our  vacation is done." I mumble, "Yeah, it's weird but going on
vacation is a lot  more work than staying home. It's been a relocation more than a
vacation so far,  but worth all the trouble now that we're here." Looking
around I mostly see  condos like ours packed close together with eight foot
alleys in back and  between each building. We have a partial ocean view past
the boardwalk, and the  ocean is the whole point of vacationing here. That
and the beach and boardwalk.  We're too old to pull the high-jinxes and
goofing around on the boardwalk we did  as teenagers, although the boardwalk's
still a lot of fun. People of all ages  enjoy walking on it next to the ocean.

Then there's the amusement arcades with  thrill rides that are still
thrilling, and the water parks are still fun for all  ages. I'm not sure you ever
become so old you can't enjoy some aspects of the  being at the shore.

That's especially true if you're a fan of 'people-watching'  like I am...

specialized people watching in my case consisting of watching for  cute young guys
mostly.

Our  deck is made from composite deck boards and railings. The floor is
gray with  artificial wood grain and the railings are bright white with a fat
fancy molded  railing every six feet. There's no danger of getting a splinter
walking bare  foot out here. Looking to my right all I see are decks pretty
much identical to  ours. The deck's are a good size at about twenty feet by
twenty feet. There's a  fairly new gas grill at the front of our deck, as
well as outdoor furniture  including a round table with a large umbrella in
the middle and six chairs  around it. The table is on the street side of the
deck and there are four  captain chairs, two of which Chubby and I are
sitting, on this side of the deck.  Looking straight ahead, no more than thirty
feet from the end of our deck, is  the front of a deck for the house across
the way that looks like our deck.  Cookie-cutter decks. The moms paid extra
for this end unit, bless their little  hearts. A sidewalk is separated from
us by six foot hedges, then the street  which is busy with traffic. That's
not ideal, but few things are  perfect.

Street  parking is always a problem, but we've got the driveway this year
so parking  won't be the problem it was last year. Of course, if the people
renting the  downstairs condo park their car behind ours we'll need to ask
them nicely to  move it should we want to drive somewhere, like to a
restaurant. We'll deal with  that when the time comes. For now two girls just walked
out on a deck facing  ours, two condos over. They both have a drink of some
kind in their hands.  Chubby glances over at them, then gets up and walks to
the front of our deck  calling over to the girls, "Hey, you wouldn't have a
spare beverage or two,  would ya?" Oh balls! Why does he do that? One of
the girls walks to the front of  her deck, calling back, "Why don't you and
your brother c'mon over and find  out." Chubby goes, "How'd ya know we're
brothers?" The girl is nice looking with  a blond ponytail on the side of her
head. Maybe, since it's on the side, you  don't call it a ponytail. I don't
know. Chubby tells me, "Let's check it  out, bro." I don't want to, but for
Chubby, I say, "Sure," and we go down the  outside stairs to the alley.

As we  walk towards their condo my outlook brightens-up seeing a boy
joining the two  girls on the deck. He has blond hair too, so maybe he's
Ponytail's brother. We  go up the outdoor steps to their deck with Chubby leading the
way. At the top he  again asks ponytail-girl, "How'd you know we're
brothers? Are you a haruspex, by  any chance?" He's grinning while saying that,
making it sound naughty. Both  girls laugh, then the other girl asks, "What's a
haruspex?" Ignoring that,  Chubby says, "I'm Jeff and this is my awesome
looking brother, Dylan." Ponytail  says, "Well he is awesomely cute, Jeff, but
then so are you. I guessed you were  brothers because you kinda look
alike." The other girl points to Ponytail,  saying, "She's Jessica and that's her
brother, Charlie. I'm Jessica's friend,  Ellie. Now what the fuck's a
haruspex? It sounds sexy." Girls like to say  'fuck'.

When  introduced Charlie gave us a little wave of his hand without looking
up, acting  bored, or maybe he's the shy type. He's at least eighteen and
probably older.  Like his sister, Charlie has long blond pretty hair. His is
straight for maybe  four inches, then it gets real curly the bottom four
inches and it looks really  cool on him.  He's cute with a sexy scraggily,
relatively recent beard here  and there on his face. Ellie is sexy looking with
big jugs, assuming you're into  that sort of thing. She's swarthy complected
with dark hair cut almost as short  as a guy's, and combed like a guy's too,
but somehow she doesn't look 'butch' at  all. Pretty face with subtle
make-up touches and thinly plucked eyebrows.  Jessica, the ponytail girl, is fair
complected and cute like her  brother.

Chubby  hops up on the railing, holding onto it with a hand on either side
of him, and  with that mischievous smile of his, he goes, "So you don't know
what a haruspex  is, huh?" Ellie, says, "Of course we don't. What the fuck
is it?" He goes, "It's  not sexy unfortunately. It's a person who's, um,
clairvoyant, a mental  telepathist, psychic, that sort of thing." Charlie says
in a monotone, "Bullshit  alert," and Jessica says, "My brother doesn't
believe you, Jeff." Ellie has her  smart phone out, asking, "How do you spell
that word?" Chubby tells her and she  taps her cellphone, then holds it out
for Charlie to see. He reads it, shrugs,  and mumbles to Chubby, "Way to be,
dude."

Smirking,  Chubby asks, "What do you guys have in those plastic cups?"

Ellie walks over to  Chubby, who's still sitting on the railing looking cool.

With one hand rubbing  his knee, Ellie offers him her cup and Chubby takes a
sip, then says,  "Strawberry daiquiri." She says, "Yeah, ya want one?" Chubby
goes, "Sure."  Jessica, who's next to me, runs her fingers through my short
hair, asking, "How  'bout you, cutie?" I shrug, "I'll try one." Charlie
quietly mumbles, "Guess I'll  make another pitcher," and he goes inside while
the rest of us do the thing you  do with people you've just met; we start
asking where do you go to college?  Where ya from? blah, blah, blah. Chubby
does the talking for us while Jessica  and her friend, Ellie, take turns
answering and asking questions. Jessica  occasionally bumps the side of her hip
against mine, then grins at me. I assume  she saw Ellie come-on to Chubby and
she figures she'll take the leftover, moi.  Ya know, most everyone wants a
'vacation' boyfriend or girlfriend. In that  regard Jessica has a surprise
coming to her.

The  girls are both twenty-one and have been best friend since grade
school. They  live in Delaware and go to a college in New York State I never heard
of.  Charlie had his twentieth birthday yesterday and he going into his
sophomore  year at Penn State University. That's pretty much all the
information I  remember, although I'll bet Chubby recalls a lot more of what the girls
had to  say than I do. After a while we hear the blender running and a
minute later  Charlie comes out with a pitcher of daiquiris in one hand and
three empty  plastic cups in the other. He sets the pitcher on the table, a
table identical  to ours, and mumbles, "Help yourself," as he pours himself a
cup of icy, frothy  red strawberry daiquiri. The outside of his cup
immediately forms a frosty  glaze. Chubby hops off the railing and takes the pitcher,
saying, "Thanks,  Charlie." He pours a cup and passes it to me, then pours
one for himself,  asking, "Do you girls need a refill?" They both hold out
their cups and Chubby  finishes off the pitcher pouring equal amounts in each
cup.

The  daiquiri is shockingly cold, but it taste good. It's very sweet. For
something  to say to Charlie, I ask him, "What's the liquor in daiquiris?"

He's smelling  the back of his hand, but pulls his hand away when he realizes
I'm looking at  him, and mutters, "Rum, of course," without looking at me.

Jessica says, "My  brother makes the best strawberry daiquiris ever! Tell
them everything you put  in it, Charlie." He frowns and shrugs, looking at the
floor muttering, "It's  just a fucking recipe I got online. Three cups
crushed ice, a quarter cup of  sugar, a big glob of frozen strawberries, some
lime and lemon juice, half a cup  of rum and a couple ounces of Sprite. Blend
the shit out of it with the crushed  ice and that's it." Chubby says, "Jesus!
I thought a daiquiri was just  strawberry juice, ice, and rum." We talk
about that until Chubby asks, "Anybody  mind if I smoke?" Charlie, staring at
his cup, quietly asks, "Ya got a joint?"  and Chubby holds up a pack of
Marlboro Lights. Ellie says, "Oh goodie, let me  have one, Jeff." Ellie, Chubby,
and I light cigarettes while Charlie goes  inside, then comes out smoking a
joint that he and his sister share.

After  the joint Charlie makes another batch of daiquiris while Jessica and
Ellie talk  me and Chubby into meeting them on the boardwalk tonight.

Jessica puts her arm  around my waist, jokingly saying, "I'll be safe with you,
won't I, Dylan?" I  say, "Of course, but full disclosure, just so ya know,
I'm gay." She chuckles  for a second, then goes, "Seriously? You're serious?"

and Chubby says, "Yeah, my  bro's gay." Jessica yells, "Charlie! This is
your lucky day... maybe." He comes  out looking annoyed, "What the fuck ya
yelling about now, sister?" She goes,  "Dylan's gay," and Charlie's eyebrows go up
as he asks, "Seriously?" I snort out  a laugh, "Why does everyone say
'seriously' like it's shocking that I'm gay?"  Jessica says, "Because you're not
putting out any gay vibes, hottie." Well,  that's the opposite of what I've
been told by a number of guys, but I keep that  to myself. Ellie says,
"Jesse, I'll share Jeff with you." Huh. I think Jesse is  a much cuter name than
Jessica.  That name sounds like it belongs to  someone from Wyoming, or
someplace like that.

We  hang-out on Jesse's deck through a third batch of daiquiris, smoking
and talking  about college, our home towns, and what's hot in Wildwood. The
fact I'm gay  isn't mentioned again. I assume Charlie's gay too although no
one actually says  as much. Then a handsome man, who I'm guessing is their
father, pokes his head  out the door, saying, "We'll be going out to dinner in
half an hour or so. If  you need to change or something, you'll need to do
it pretty quickly." He gives  Chubby and me a quick glance, and he's gone.

Moody Charlie mumbles, "I'm not  changing, fuck that," and Ellie asks Jesse,
"Should we change?" As they debate  that, I see Tris come out the French
doors to our deck with a glass in her hand,  so I check my wristwatch; it's ten
minutes to seven. Time flies when you're  drinking strawberry daiquiris. I
go, "The moms are here, Chubby," he nods, and  Ellie asks, "What's 'Chubby' a
reference to?" Chubby goes, "Oh, as a toddler  Dylan couldn't say Jeff, so
he has always called me by my middle name," and  everyone chuckles except
Charlie, who's mumbling, "Bullshit  alert."

Chubby  drains the last of his drink, saying, "We gotta unload our moms'
car now. We'll  look for you guys at the Mariner's Pier around nine-thirty."

He's saying that to  Jesse and Ellie mostly. I glance over at Charlie, who's
looking down and  smelling the back of his hand again. When we're saying
goodbye Charlie's inside  so it's unclear if he'll join us at the pier. I hope
he does. So far he's not  been outgoing at all, and he's had very little to
say. It's not that he's been  unfriendly necessarily, it might be he's just
not interested, or he's bored,  shy, or both. He did make us three batches
of drinks though, and his eyebrows  went up when his sister told him I'm gay.

So, there's that.

As  Chubby and I approach our driveway I see there's now a car parked
behind ours,  and the Volvo's parked behind the second car. We go upstairs to say
hi to the  moms. Hugs and kisses, then Tris talks fast telling us about the
tractor trailer  driver that was tailgating them and blowing its horn on
the Garden State  Parkway. I try not to grin, but the moms drive very
defensively and much too  slowly. Chubby asks, "Mom, why didn't you get out of the
lane and let the  ass-wipe pass?" She goes, "We were in the middle lane where
we're suppose to be,  and we were driving the speed limit." We discuss that
for a minute or so,  commiserating with Tris and berating the tractor
trailer driver, the asshole. I  don't think trucks are allowed in the passing
lane so the truck driver had to be  super frustrated being stuck behind Tris.

She obviously should have gotten into  the merging lane and let the truck
pass her, but the moms have this thing about  obeying the law, including speed
limits, and they're stubborn about it. I go,  "Anyway, you made it here
safely," and Chubby goes, "Yes, that's the important  part, now can we have the
Volvo key? Dylan and I will unpack the car." My mom  says, "Tris and I
already unpacked it, Jeffrey. That is except for the stuff  we'll take to the
beach tomorrow." Chubby and I hug the moms again, mumbling,  "You guys didn't
need to do that, but it was awesomely nice of you."

To be  sociable, Chubby gets him and me a barely chilled beer so we can
keep the moms  company while they drink their gin and tonics. They tell us
their fiancés will  be arriving tomorrow and that they'll be taking us out for a
Sunday night  dinner. We decide to eat here tonight because the moms are a
little rattled  after the nightmarish drive. After holding out as long as
she can, Tris says,  "The same smoking rules as last year, right boys? Dee and
I like to have an  occasional cigarette when we're on vacation." Chubby
says, "So do my brother and  I." We all light up,; chuckling a  little because,
of course, we all know we all smoke year round, but this mutual  deception
pleases the moms for some reason. See, I'm not the only one who
rationalizes in this family. Chubby and I enjoy talking with the moms, and doing  a
little teasing with them too, mostly because they have awesome senses of
humor, and they obviously enjoy that we're spending time with them. It's
heartwarming for me seeing them happy.

We  all agree the dinner tonight will be Stop & Shop's baby-back ribs
cooked on  the grill first and then they'll finish cooking in the oven until
tender. We'll  serve them with a sticky sweet barbecue sauce. There will be a
touch of  heat in the barbecue sauce compliments of Frank's Hot Sauce. French
fries and a  salad will complete the simple meal. Chubby and I start on that
while the moms  open a bottle of Mondavi Pinot Noir, explaining that while
it's high in acidity,  it's lower in alcohol content than most red wines.

Tris says, "It's a good wine  to drink if you're planning on having a few
glasses. Dee and I will probably  have some after dinner too." There's no
'probably' about it, if I know the moms,  but I hope they have Zantac tablets
available.

To  drink with our dinner, Chubby and I make iced tea for ourselves because
we're  feeling the effects of the daiquiris and beers we've imbibed. We
hang out  with our moms after dinner nursing beers until nine-fifteen. Then,
feeling  slightly 'high', we walk the two blocks to the boardwalk laughing at
some of the  things our moms said. Going up the ramp to the boardwalk, I
mumble, "Um,  assuming we hook up with Jesse and Ellie at Mariner Pier, are we
supposed to pay for their rides?" He goes, "Nah, this isn't a date, Dylan.

Hey, are you interested in Charlie at all?" I shrug, "Don't know yet,
although  he's sure good looking. Did you get the impression he's gay?" He
squeezes the  back of my neck, grinning, "Yeah, I got that impression, didn't
you?" I shrug,  grinning back at him, muttering, "I don't know."

This  section of the boardwalk is like twenty feet up off the beach while
at others  spots it's almost level with the beach. The width of the beach
varies, but most  places its maybe a hundred yards wide from the boardwalk to
the ocean.  We're walking close to the railing on the beach side of the
boardwalk with me  gazing out at the endless sea that's lit tonight by the light
of a full moon  hanging in the sky way out there. The waves splash endlessly
on the shore  line before pulling back and coming in again, over and over
forever, like motion  is the law of life.

We  got on the boardwalk at the end where it's at its narrowest and where
there  aren't many stores, but shortly there begins thirty-eight blocks of
stores,  shops, water parks, eateries of all kinds, and three amusement piers
with over  one hundred and fifty different rides. Its two miles of unique
sights and  sounds with the salty sea smell of the ocean mingling with smells
from hundreds  of shops cooking all kinds of treats to eat. The boardwalk is
noise and bright  lights with too many people of all ages, cultures,
religions, color and race...  it's almost sensory overload at first. It's at its
most crowded at night  from six o'clock until it shuts down some time after
midnight, but from early  morning on there are always people walking the
boards. At this time of night  it's a common sight to see and hear bickering
between husband and wives with  over-tired children who are too young to be up
this late. Cranky toddlers in  strollers, their parents' nerves on edge after
a day and night pandering to  their ungrateful kids every wish. Generally
speaking people walk up the  boardwalk on the beach side and down on the side
near all the stores, but  there's also a great deal of movement from one
side to the other. It's  borderline chaos at times, especially at the center
where some people are  walking in one direction and some in the other
direction. Somehow it all works  out okay though. There's some bumping but mostly
people avoid colliding with one  another.

The  Mariner's Pier is located in the middle of the two mile long
boardwalk. Chubby  says, "All these people, Dylan, and we don't know any of them." I
mumble, "How  many people do you suppose you know personally? I mean
counting acquaintances."  The factoid king, says, "Well that's debatable. I've read
surveys that claim the  average middle aged person knows as many as six
hundred people, while other  surveys claim the number's half that." As Chubby's
talking I finally spot a cute  guy who's unfortunately holding hands with a
cute girl. The first cute guy  tonight and he's on the other team. I
mumble, "I definitely don't know six  hundred people, do you?" He goes, "Nah, but
then we're not middle aged yet.  Anyway, even if we did know six hundred
people there's still quite a few we  wouldn't know considering there's over
seven billion people living somewhere on  earth right now." I go, "Damn! We're
not real popular, are we?" Chubby goes,  "Since the beginning of humanity
over one hundred billion humans have been alive  and died." I go, "Huh!" How
does he know all this random information I  wonder?
>From  my boy-watching while walking the mile to Mariner's Pier I came up
with only  four cute guys. That's an embarrassingly low number considering the
number of  people I've past in the last twenty minutes. Anyway, at the
entrance to the pier  we find Jesse and Ellie talking with two other girls about
our age. Where the  fuck is Charlie though, or any cute guy for that
matter. We walk up to the girls  with Chubby's all smiles, saying, "Girls, I find
your lack of nudity  disturbing." Ellie laughs, then says, "Hi Jeff, ya know
what Jessica said behind  your back?" Chubby goes, "Um, I've got a nice
ass?" She laughs again, "No, but  you do have a nice ass." As they exchange
banter I'm sort of standing a little  bit behind Chubby looking for Charlie,
and not seeing him. I'd like to, but  don't ask his sister if her brother is
coming out tonight.

Jesse's  introducing the two new girls to Chubby and then she says, "Dylan,
stop hiding  behind your brother. Get over here." I blush a little taking a
few steps to be  next to Chubby, mumbling irritably, "I'm not hiding."

Jesse asks the two new  girls, "Isn't he adorable?" A tall, big shouldered girl,
whose name I've  already forgotten, says, "Yeah, but aren't you robbing the
cradle again, Jesse?"  Chubby says, "What the fuck ya talking about? Dylan
will be twenty-one in like  three days." There's some general discussion
about looking youthful. After a few  minutes, the new girls, whatever their
names are, leave and the four of us  discuss going on the pier. We decide not
to spend $45 each for a wrist band that  entitles us to go on all the rides
the rest of the night, and instead buy tokens  for individual rides. Its $5 a
ride so the all-night pass is what I'd go  for if it was just Chubby and
me.

There's  a line we need to wait in for each ride. Our plan is to only go on
the four best  rides: Sea Serpent, Fly The Great Nor'Easter, The Great
White, and  Maelstrom. Each is a variation of a roller coaster, some upside
down, some more  around and around than up and down. They're all fast enough to
take your breath  away. Thrill rides are awesome! During the longish wait
for each one Jesse  mostly talks with me. She's very cool for a girl. Chubby
and Ellie are  whispering and giggling; probably deciding if they want to
pursue a deeper  relationship for the week, meaning one that includes sex I'd
imagine. Jesse and  I don't have that concern, although she never actually
mentions me being gay.  She's very nice and funny too. When I feel comfortable
enough with her I let  some of my funnier observations of life be known,
and she has a really nice  laugh. It's easy to like someone who laughs at your
jokes. When we've had  enough thrills we leave the pier and buy soft serve
ice cream cones eating them  while leaning on the railing looking out at the
ocean and  talking about eternity.

Chubby  and Ellie get into some touching and goofing around, while Jesse
and I do not.  She's easy to talk to though and I'm having a surprisingly good
time. Later  we're at one of those cheesy carnival games where you shoot
water at a duck to  see if your duck beats the other five in a race to the
finish line. I lose and  Chubby tries it, saying, "This is easy. I'm gonna win
a stuffed animal for you,  Ellie." As he's doing that Charlie comes up
grinning and wraps his arms around  his sister, Jessica, from behind. She goes,
"Charlie! Where ya been all night?"  He says, "Here and there. What have you
guys been up to?" then he looks right at  me, quietly saying, "Hi, Dylan." I
didn't think he'd even remember my  name. It's the first time he's used it
since we were introduced this afternoon  and it catches me off guard. I
mumble, "Yo, um, hi." Charlie's got a friend with  him. A guy about Chubby's
height, but heavier. His hair is the color of Sonny's,  which is to say,
orange. It's not thick hair though, and it's cut in a longish  flat top. His pink
scalp shows in between each hair. The guy's got a fleshy face  with chipmunk
cheeks and bright blue eyes. Jessica playfully punches this guy's  arm,
saying, "Ronny, whassup?" Ronny grins and says, "You know what gets up
whenever I see you, Jesse." She goes, "Oh, how clever," then introduces me to  him,
"Dylan, this is our neighbor, Ronny Tarleckie. He's our neighborhood's
Polish horn-job." I thought she was going to say, 'Polish ham'. I don't know
what to make of the 'Polish horn-job', but I bump fist with him, muttering,
"How  ya doing?" He nods his head, then asks Charlie, "Are we gonna ride the
Sea  Serpent or are you going to go all queer on me and punk out on me
again, pussy?"  What an ginormice asshole this guy is!
Charlie  frowns, then mumbles to us, "See you guys later," and the two of
them head for  Mariner's Pier. That was fast, but I noticed another cute
thing about Charlie.  His two front teeth are a little bit longer than the
others and it gives him a  very boyish appearance when he grins like he did
hugging his sister. He also has  cute dimples. So fuck, what's he doing with
crude Ronny? No way they're  boyfriends. With the back of my hand to my nose,
I'm watching Charlie walk away.  Jesse says, "Charlie does that too." My hand
comes down, as I say, "Huh? Does  what?" She grins and puts the back of her
hand to her nose. She's as cute as  Charlie. I say, "Oh, that. Yeah, it's a
stupid habit," and she says, "Charlie  claims he does it because he smells
good." I go, "Oh, really? Um, I don't know  why I do it." Feeling self
-conscious, I do a fake cough, then ask,  "Why'd you call Charlie's friend the
Polish horn-job?" She's the touchy type,  squeezing my arm, saying, "He thinks
he's God's gift to women." I go, "Him?" and  she laughs, mumbling, "Go
figure, huh." Chubby yells, "This game is rigged!" as  a ten years old girl beats
him in the water race. Then Ellie says, "I need a  slice of Mac's pizza,"

and the four of us drift down the boards looking for one  of the ubiquitous
Mac's pizza shops along the two mile stretch of  boardwalk.

I ask  Jesse, "I guess Ronny is Charlie's best bud from the neighborhood,
huh?" She  frowns, "Not hardly. It's a coincidence Ronny's family is here the
same two  weeks we're here. Charlie doesn't even like Ronny, but he's too
polite to brush  him off. They went to the same high school at the same time,
but didn't hang-out  together at all. Ronny calls Charlie his 'fag
friend'." I go, "What an asshole!"  and she takes my hand as we walk, saying, "Yeah,
that is an insightful appraisal  of Ronny Tarleckie. He's always been a
bully too." I can't think of a way to  bring up the subject of Charlie again,
so I don't. After we all eat a slice of  pizza and have a cup of birch beer,
we walk the girls back to our condos with my  hand feeling sweaty in Jesse's
hand. Why the fuck is she holding my hand in the  first place?  We say
goodnight to the girls with both of them kissing us on  the cheek. Chubby says,
"You can do better than that, Ellie," and he gives her a  ten second kiss on
the mouth and it looks like some tongue action too. I look  away, then
Jesse and I roll our eyes at one another. Awkward!
Leaving  the girls, Chubby and I have a beer and a cigarette on the deck
talking about  tonight and how hot he thinks Ellie is. He's probably thinking
if only I were  straight how much fun it would be for us to try getting in
the girl's pants, or  at least talking about it. Or maybe I'm wrong. I ask
Chubby, "Do you ever wish I  were straight so we could try picking up girls
together?" He reaches over to  squeeze my hand, saying, "No, Dylan I've never
wished that. The thing I wish for  the most is your happiness. I wouldn't
change a thing about you because I  couldn't love you more than I already do.

To me you're the perfect brother and  perfect best friend." That makes my
eyes tear up as I mutter, "We're the best  friends and brothers the world has
ever seen." He goes, "Exactly, bro!" We're  quiet after that. Chubby and I
have always been perfectly content just being  together whether we're talking
or not.

It's  a little after midnight now, and we were up early this morning, so we
decide to  get some sleep. When we get up to go inside I see Charlie
walking alone on the  side walk next to our deck. He looks up at me and smiles,
asking, "Will I see  you on the beach tomorrow, Dylan?" I nod and smile back,
saying, "I hope so,  Charlie." He waves, "See you then." Chubby hugs my
shoulders, saying, "Well  alright, bro!" and I can't help but grin, feeling a
little goofy because maybe I  smiled too hard at Charlie. When we go inside we
see both the mom's bedroom  doors are closed so they had an early night,
early for them. Before I get in bed  I leave a text for Robby to read in the
morning telling him I miss him, signing  it, 'Love, Dylan'. Then it's lights
out. Before sleep I think about Robby, and  then about seeing Dodger on
Wednesday. Then I wonder if maybe my brother and I  have both gotten lucky in
the romance department on our first day of vacation.  That's a bit optimistic
considering Charlie and I haven't said ten words to each  other, but maybe
we'll have more to say tomorrow. Then I feel bad about Jesse  being the odd
one out. Still, I can't wait for a day on the beach.



to be  continued...     Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo.com



donnymumforf@outlook.com



========================================================



Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for
next to nothing. The books are under ten dollars. They are about a 19 year
old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there
is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by
typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can
be found in some detail there. Thank you.


Donny  Mumford


============================================

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