Close Encounters of the Beach Kind

I boarded the ferry and sat with my friend as fellow hotel guests shuffled on behind us. We sat and waited for the quick ride across the bay to begin. A day in the sun took a toll on my Irish complexion and all I could imagine was laying down on my cool mattress with the A.C. buzzing overhead, lulling me to sleep.

The short boat ride to our hotel was surprisingly invigorating, or maybe it was the startlingly cold ocean spray in my face and the roaring engine that jolted me out of my sun-coma, as I found myself agreeing to have drinks with another guest at the Beach Bar.

He wasn't my type at all: shorter, full beard, talkative, goofy. I always found myself with tall, quiet, brooding men who would listen to me ramble or that I just didn't have to talk much with at all (if you catch my drift). He was very into banter, something I find exhausting and inauthentic, but he was smart which was refreshing as I rarely meet a man who can hold his own with me intellectually. At first I thought he was just being friendly; he explained he was a medic on the island and completing his second 30-day rotation of the year. He knew local spots that had much more character than the tourist boardwalk I'd been confined to being without a vehicle so I agreed to join him for dinner.

We drove down long, winding roads that were unpaved, unmarked and by the time we reached our first location the sun was starting to set. He bought drinks and we sat on a towel in the sand watching the sun disappear slowly behind the horizon, chatting casually about our work and travels. It was easy and lighthearted; it felt good and also scared the hell out of me.

Drinks ended when the sun was a distant memory and night had fully settled in. We drove a ways up the road to a restaurant that couldn't decide what kind of theme it wanted to embrace. He took my hand as we sat down and asked if I liked wine. When I smiled he quickly ordered a glass of Merlot for each of us and looked intensely into my eyes as I spoke about my journey down two nights before. The innocence and honesty behind his gaze was almost overwhelming. I looked away just to catch my breath.

As the night went on we ventured out to another local joint; live music was pouring through the trees and laughter could be heard blocks away. We mingled with his fellow traveling medics as they approached him and spoke jovially about their time on the island. His physical affection intensified as the night went on to the point where I was startled if I couldn't feel his touch on the small of my back.

For the first time that night we sat quietly, listening to the band and smirking at the drunk, dancing people. I looked over suddenly when I felt his hand pull away. He brushed my hair behind my ear. His eyes were dark and intense but he smiled and leaned in close.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked. I nodded and leaned in to meet him as he kissed me sweetly. I could still taste the Merlot that stained our tongues as we kissed and could feel his warm skin as he pulled me into his chest. My lips felt swollen and tingly as he pulled away. He kissed my forehead and told me he'd bring me home. It was well past midnight; I could feel the exhaustion in my eyes starting to win.

I could feel his eyes shift over to me in the passenger seat as he drove. I leaned back into the seat peacefully, interlacing my fingers with his. I knew it wouldn't be the last time I'd see him. The way he touched me, the way he kissed me; being with him came so naturally. I arrived on the island looking to escape, and instead I found someone who showed me the way home.