LAKE

The Ford Escape, packed with four high school students and their luggage, crossed the Kentucky Stateline. Direct sunlight greeted us through the window across the first of several States separating us from our final destination. From the front passenger seat, I blinked my eyes open and took in my surroundings. A 5:30 wake-up call resulted in the experience of a brief catnap. The clock radio now read 7:45 and I knew that I had shirked copilot duties. I glanced over to apologize to John Lake for my failure at the role entrusted to me. However, the senior’s eyes remained fixed on the road and he shrugged nonchalantly before I could get a word in. John never said much and the silence could be intimidating. I restored the position of trust granted to me by taking a sip of soda to remain alert and adjusted the volume on the MP3 player. The vehicle’s thermometer indicated that the midmorning outdoor temperature was 65 degrees; the air conditioner made the vehicle cabin substantially crisper. We sat in the vehicle as four friends (three guys and one girl; one sophomore, two juniors, and a senior) leaving Ohio for the ritual Summer Week. John’s family owned beachfront property in South Carolina (affectionately referred to as “The Lakehouse”) and the episode awaiting us at our final destination would be well worth the early morning departure. Such an experience might have even been worth the seven months of schooling that brought us to today.

As I recorded the minimal morning traffic, my attention shifted back to the cabin of the vehicle. Kyle Samson and Sarah Wilson took up the entire backseat in a public show. The two technically remained buckled in but their upper torsos now occupied the middle seat so that their lips could meet. As far as I knew, they’d been expressing their interest in one another since I’d been napping (maybe longer; the SUV had collected me last). The illicit act suggested the kind of intimacy that insinuated a sense of commitment from both parties.

Before the private yet public performance in the backseat could provoke my personal resentment further, I faced forward, checked the GPS plugged in opposite the MP3 player, and adjusted the music volume a third time. Classic Soft Rock filled the vehicle. Finally, just when I thought that a crowbar would be required to pull the couple apart, Kyle righted himself and casually pushed Sarah’s face aside with his right palm to prove his dominance.

“Seriously, bro; I’m as good on Classic Rock as anyone else but this?” he demanded, “Have you never heard of Springsteen, Tom Petty, Bon Jovi? If we must play The Eagles, then at least ‘Take It Easy’?”

From the backseat, Sarah giggled at her older boyfriend’s cleverness. Meanwhile, those of us not named “Kyle Samson” or “Sarah Wilson” took offense. This trip had been John’s idea, the destination was his family’s beach house (WHERE WE WOULD SPEND THE WEEK FOR FREE!), and Kyle still refused to be deterred unless he insulted the driver (this time, at least for something as casual as his music mix). John said nothing and I wouldn’t change the music without direct permission.

“…I know you were trying to give me the best of yourrr luu…” a prerecorded voice insisted from the speakers.

John swatted his MP3 player out of my hands so suddenly that it caught me off guard. I whirled to give Kyle an earful for the offense until I realized that John had taken his own music device. He then steered with his left wrist and utilized his right hand to jam the button several times until Springsteen’s “Born to Run” boomed through the cabin. I shot a glare in Kyle’s direction. The frown’s recipient smirked at us and threw up “rock star fingers” to indicate his opinion of everyone else’s taste in music. His point made, Kyle lowered his left hand, removed his right hand from Sarah’s face, and the two of them collapsed across the middle of the backseat into another lip lock that illustrated Sarah’s faithfulness and Kyle’s dumb luck. I ignored the lovebirds and faced forward to adjust the GPS system. Within fifteen minutes, Kyle declared himself bored with the intimacy from his girlfriend and came up for air. His girlfriend now successfully ignored, Kyle perched his shoeless feet on the front armrest and wiggled his bare toes at the front seat.

“I hate awkward silences.” Kyle observed, reclining against his elbows and nearly hitting Sarah in the face, “So, Marcus, Caitlin’s a lesbian now?”

For someone who hated awkward silences, Kyle could surely think up more welcome topics. The mere mention of my very first girlfriend’s (more recently, first ex’s) name proved enough to cause me to have to restrain myself from turning around and punching the smirk right down my best friend’s throat. Caitlin’s and my relationship had culminated with her, at age sixteen, declaring her desire to “experiment with other options.”

“I…am not positive how committed she is to that.” I informed my neighbor and best friend.

“Tell her to prove it.” Kyle prompted.

I could only think of one sufficient way for Caitlin to “prove” the commitment to her new lifestyle and I refused to treat her like that. I knew Kyle and knew that we both agreed what “evidence” entailed. Sarah smacked her boyfriend playfully in the ribs, indicating that she knew what he meant. John just sat there in the driver’s seat, a stone, emotionless figure in silent judgment.

Finally, he dutifully steered the SUV with his left wrist and right hand into a rest area. I wanted to end the conversation about Caitlin then and there but decided against it. If I dropped the conversation about my ex, Kyle only had one other target in the interest of keeping himself amused. The last thing that John needed to hear about was Lindsay Morrison.

“I’ll talk to Caitlin when we get back.” I pledged, getting out to stretch my legs.

“Why wait?” Kyle demanded, kicking open his own passenger door before racing around the opposite end of the vehicle to catch up , thereby leaving Sarah ignored. “I’ve got twenty bucks that says that you’re not going to call her in the middle of the trip where we can all hear.”

“Keep your twenty bucks and take Sarah to a nice restaurant.” I insisted.

“Bro, it's Summer; believe you me, this twenty is going to be spent on someone!” Kyle vowed.

With that famous declaration to provoke my ire, Kyle established that we all had our reasons for being on break. John was there to drive the rest of us and graciously share the Lakehouse. I was determined to leave Ohio and all of the drama that it had presented for Caitlin and me. Sarah came to have a great time and be with Kyle. Kyle tagged along due to John’s generosity and to have the great time that, knowing him, would come his way whether he deserved it or not. I meant to address the last thing said about Sarah but, by that time, she had caught up to her beloved. Dutifully, I kept what I had to say to Kyle about his behavior to myself until we could talk alone. For all of the complaining that I could do about my best friend, his shrewdness and good fortune allowed him to hang on to his girlfriend. It was more of an accomplishment than I could say for myself…

We reached Myrtle Beach by late afternoon and the “Lakehouse” by early evening. Myrtle Beach’s natural beauty accentuated the Lakehouse’s immaculate condition in honor of our arrival.

We no sooner parked when the back doors flung open and Sarah and Kyle made a beeline for the beach like a pair of excited kids. This marked Sarah’s first time in Myrtle and Kyle was determined to impress her. I resolved that the luggage could wait and went for the cooler . I retrieved the beach cooler and righted myself just in time to catch John hobbling on his left foot and with several bags under his right arm. I deemed that Kyle and Sarah could wait longer for the cooler, set it down, and relieved our host of some of his bags.

Once we transferred most of the luggage to the Lakehouse to be divided up later, my phone indicated an incoming text.

7:00; Sarah W.

"Um…yeah; it’s Summer Break, it’s time to party, and I think someone is shirking on bringing the cooler down to the beach".

I gave her partial credit for being partially correct.

“Kyle and Sarah want the cooler.” I announced, making my way toward the door.

“Oh, and I thought that they just missed the joy of our company.” A semi-familiar voice retorted.

The shock of hearing John speak, especially when it was unnecessary, sent a shiver down my spine. I recovered my senses as John clinched the opposite handle in his right hand and we both walked down to the beachside to attend to the other two guests.

As we hobbled toward Myrtle Beach, we pinpointed Kyle and Sarah instantly. I didn’t think much of the sight of Kyle chatting up three other girls in front of Sarah; that would be her problem with him anyway. As John and I drew in close, however, I recognized at least one of the other women immediately and hated Kyle Michael Samson. Were it up to me, I would have carried that cooler straight back to the “Lakehouse…”

“Marky-Marc!” Kyle summoned me, waving me over and thereby attracting others to the existence of my hated nickname.

Turning back was no longer an option. John and I delivered the cooler to our fellow patrons amidst the snickers and smirks of everyone whom had just heard the ridiculous moniker. One of those partiers already knew my diminutive handle but that didn’t make me any happier for her to see me like this. Two out of the three girls departed the scene, leaving only one for me to pinpoint. She had let her jet black hair grow out since last I’d seen her and her gold two-piece suit accentuated her naturally tan physique.

“Caitlin Tanner,” Kyle announced once we’d dropped off the cooler, “I believe you know Marcus Flint? Marky-Marc, thanks; we were actually getting kind of famished down here.”

I could have pointed out that that hadn’t prompted His Majesty to come back up to the Lakehouse and retrieve his own damn cooler. However, I wouldn’t do so in front of Caitlin. Instead, John hobbled back up to the “Lakehouse” and Kyle and Sarah cracked open a pair of sodas to enjoy the remainder of the performance.

“Caitlin,” I greeted her, trying to decide how much physical contact would be necessary and stuffing both my hands in my pockets , “it’s been a while.”

“Marcus!” Caitlin squeaked, cold sweat on her brow, “W-what are you doing here???”

“Summer.” I pointed out, “Great minds think alike.”

“So, Cate,” Kyle suddenly interjected in case anyone thought that he’d left us alone for the reunion, “Marcus and I wondered if you could clear up a couple of points.”

Clearly, Kyle and Sarah had deemed themselves bored with small talk. I whirled on my lifelong best friend and his trophy girl, seeing red.

“Marcus, wait.” Caitlin suddenly blurted.

I obediently turned back toward my ex. I faced her just in time for a gorgeous blonde to arrive on scene and demand to know what was going on. In case any shadow of a doubt over who the demand was meant for remained, Caitlin drew in a sharp breath and glanced around for an escape. When none was readily available, she sighed and opened her mouth.

“Marcus, Kyle, Sarah,” Caitlin began, linking an arm with the blonde, “this is Ashley Foster. Ashley,…”

“Marcus;” Ashley demanded, venomously, “Marcus Flint?”

I now had all of the evidence that I needed to confirm Caitlin’s decisions of late and I only hoped that our appreciative audience was satisfied.

“The one and only.” I announced, “Nice to meet you, Ashley; Caitlin, always a pleasure.”

“You too.” Ashley clipped, “Cate…”

“I’ll be right there.” Caitlin promised.

Ashley seemed to accept that and wandered back to where an Ultimate Frisbee game had commenced. As for Caitlin, she stood in front of me for a while longer and dug her toes into the sand.

“You guys had some questions for me?” she asked, glancing up to face me again.

“I think you just cleared up any questions.” I announced.

“Awesome.” Caitlin replied, “So, since we’re all in Myrtle, we’re…um…just a couple of houses down from the ‘Lakehouse’. It’s nearly impossible to miss since we party every night. You…you’re all…free to stop byt.”

“Thanks, Caitlin.” I reacted.

“Okay,” Caitlin came back, “Well…um…”

Before I knew it, my ex-girlfriend’s arms linked around my neck while her new girlfriend could see what had transpired. The physical contact lasted for a brief moment and then Caitlin’s arms hung limply back at her sides.

“…See ya.” She dismissed herself, backpedaling before tumbling backwards. Quickly, she hopped up, dusted off her swimsuit, and scrambled on her way. I watched her go while something in the back of my mind still longed for her.

“She could have been a bit more specific about which house is theirs.” A new whine penetrated my thoughts, “This is Summer and it’s Myrtle Beach; which house isn’t partying every night?”

I turned yet again to face Kyle and Sarah, lounging on their beach blanket.

“I’m sure that Kyle will find the next party, Sarah.” I reassured her, trudging back up the beach and to the “Lakehouse..."

As the happy beachgoers stayed for the sunset before the real partying began, I witnessed the same spectacle from the Lakehouse porch. The brilliance of the sunset mixed with the new chill in the evening air. The addition of the sounds of happy beachgoers helped everything come together for an experience to behold. In a few moments, bonfires would be starting and those Spring Breakers not doing bonfires would clamber back to their houses to start up the first night of parties.

As I observed the first day of Spring Break from the porch, John sat a few seats down, resting his right leg and allowing his prosthetic left wrist to hang limply. In a few moments, Kyle and Sarah would be back at the Lakehouse, most likely to change before heading off to their first of several parties. Somewhere in the background, lite rock played softly from the Lake family’s old battery FM radio.

“I close my eyes…” the radio wept.

I was busy people watching and hadn’t expected what I heard next.

“…only for a moment…” a tiny, soft-spoken baritone barely whispered with the radio before approaching the full volume that was expected from John Lake: “…and the moment’s gone...”

Startled, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to find our host and the sole senior on the trip at the throes of agony over lost memories fighting their way to the surface. Well, of course. Everyone in Ohio knew about the car accident a half year before that had all but permanently cost John the use of his right leg and had cost him his real left hand. No; the wreck had cost him so much more. He had survived insomuch as he saw another day; his betrothed Lindsey Morrison had not.

I started to collect myself to head back inside and leave John to the privacy of his reflections. A new voice stopped me before I could head in.

“You know,” Kyle announced, tromping up the porch steps with Sarah right beside him, “you never did thank me for getting you and Caitlin back together and helping you to find the answers that you wondered about.”

I nearly whirled on him but considered his definition of events for a moment. His methods remained unorthodox but his reasoning remained accurate. If not for my lifelong neighbor and eventual best friend, I would still be wondering about the odds of winning Caitlin back.

“Thanks.” I declared, disappearing inside and holding the screen door for a few moments longer to beckon the others in. Outside, Kyle and Sarah already saw John sitting in his chair near the throes of hysterics over the guilt of having survived the accident when Lindsey had not. Witnessing the performance, the couple seemed genuinely torn about whether or not to follow. After a couple of moments, they both really surprised everyone and trotted inside after me to leave John to his guilt.

“It was no problem for me, Marcus.” Kyle insisted; then, shooing Sarah along to get ready for their next party, he took me aside. “I mean, you’re the one who lost Caitlin; and that probably sucked.”

The message left as much to be desired as ever; but the tone was sympathetic. I decided to address the tone.

“Losing her will take some getting used to.” I admitted.

At that moment, Sarah trotted back up to show off her party clothes and Kyle draped an arm cozily around one of her bare shoulders.

“You guys are off to that party?” I asked. The word “Together” hung to the end of the question but remained unspoken between two close friends.

“Yeah, we figured on stopping by for a few minutes to celebrate our first night in Myrtle Beach.” Kyle announced; then, suddenly, “What about you? Are you and John in on the idea?”

I couldn’t speak for John but nodded my assent, still a little surprised at the changed demeanor. Had I been wrong about my lifelong best friend? Beneath his list of grievous faults, was he truly capable of caring about others?

The look on my face must have spoken volumes because soon Kyle Samson was addressing that too.

“I hope that no one minds only staying out for a couple of hours.” He announced, “That twenty bucks that I mentioned to you earlier is kind of burning a hole in my pocket and I kind of owe Sarah a breakfast date tomorrow.”

I nodded and the three of us prepared ourselves to head out the door. Before long, John limped inside on his good foot once more. He had about as much to say as usual but he nodded his determination about the party that he had overheard about. Suddenly, four separate people on the same Spring Break trip together became a group of friends united in a new adventure. As the sun seemed to disappear into the lake, bonfires illuminated the beach, and shouts of joy filled the air, the four of us advanced on the company of a late-night party…