Shorts

They came up out of the ocean, two young lovers walking hand-in-hand onto the shore. The darkness of twilight enveloped them, keeping them screened from prying eyes. Just the lapping of little waves on the shore kept them company. This section of the beach had very few homes and resorts; just a few distant lights twinkled, and two rentals were visible from the beyond the sand dunes, sea oats gently waving.

“I can’t believe you’re here with me. After all the texts I sent you, you finally said yes. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.” His genuine smile said everything. After pursuing her for almost a year, he thought she might have lost all interest in him. “For a while I was sure you were ghosting me.”

She pulled him closer. The summer night sky dotted with stars seemed finite compared to the love she had for him. “I wasn’t ghosting you. I just…I wanted….needed to be sure that you were serious. I’ve been hurt before.” She felt his damp shirt against her arm, the onshore breeze from the ocean. “I want this moment to last forever.” She closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat. Her throat became dry anticipating the contact of a kiss.

He looked down at her, and love’s gravity took over. Even in his dreams he never thought it would feel this way. The salty kisses became more urgent, and the sound of the waves crashing on the beach faded into the distance. He took off his T-shirt and laid it down on the sand. How chivalrous, she thought. She quickly untied her bikini top as she slowly sat sank backward down onto his shirt, pulling him down with her. He leaned over her and whispered, “I’ve waited forever for this moment. I can’t believe how beautiful you are.” He kissed her neck, nibbled on her ear. To her delight, he continued downward as he showered her with attention. Goosebumps traveled around her body.

Her sharp intake of breath spurred him on. He wanted to make this night was perfect. She looked down at him and gently leaned up. She was going to be sure that this would be a night for both to remember. She started to push his shoulders back, gently setting his back on the sand. “My turn,” She smiled, nearly on top of him, and let her hair brush over his chest. She left a trail of kisses over his chest, and then she began to explore.

A shriek pierced the night.

“Ow! Ow! OW! OW! OW!” he screamed.

“What? What did I do? What’s going on?” The anxiety was contagious.

“OH MY GOD - THE PAIN!” He flipped over on the sand onto his stomach. “AAAAGGGGHHHH What the hell is that?”

She grabbed her cellphone from her coverup and turned the flashlight on, scanning the sand where he had lain. “Oh my god, it’s a fucking jellyfish. You were lying on a man-o-war!” she panicked. “It’s still in your shorts!”

“SHIT! What do I do? It hurts!”

“Take your pants off! Take your pants off! Now!” She helped him wiggle out of the wet plaid undershorts and saw the slimy tentacles near his feet. They had left angry red marks across the back of his legs. “Now what should I do?” she screamed.

He felt the searing pain worsen. “Pee on it!”

“WHAT?! You’re fucking crazy!” She could not believe what she was hearing.

“I heard that something in pee neutralizes the sting.” He started moaning, and not in a good way. With each ragged breath he began to cry.

She looked at him and thought about it for all of two seconds. “Ok. Ok.” She tried to figure out a way that this would work since her equipment didn’t work the same way his did. “Get on your hands and knees.” He sank down on his hands and knees on a clear patch of sand and howled in pain. “Ok,” she said, looking up and down the beach for any intruding eyes. “Here we go.”

Off came her bottoms. She leaned in over him and urinated over his legs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!” She looked concerned. “Are you OK? Is this even working?”

“No! No! Wait, maybe,” he cried. “It’s warm. This hurts like the worst mother-fuckin’ thing. My thighs feel like they’re on fire.” His body quivered in pain. “Keep going. I think it’s working!”

“I can’t! There’s no more. I should have had more water today. I’m on empty! SHIT!”

“No! Don’t shit on me!”

“I wasn’t going to do that, stupid.” She backed up. “Maybe you should go into the ocean. The salt water might help.”

“I’m not going into that fuckin’ ocean where that jellyfish came from! It’s probably got a family out there waiting for me.”

“All right-all right. Take my coverup and wrap it around your middle. We’ve got to get you to that condo or whatever over there. There’s no nighttime lifeguard or patrol officer on the beach. You need help!”

“Um, you’re naked!”

“Shit! I need my coverup back!”

“Then I’m naked!”

“Put your shorts back on!”

“THAT’S WHERE THE JELLYFISH IS!”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right. Put your shirt on and pull it down like a tutu. It’s sandy, but it’ll work.” She reached down and grabbed her suit, tossing on her coverup. “Tear open the neck of the shirt.”

He gingerly put the shirt on as she instructed. “Oh my god –this sting is like nothing I’ve ever felt.” He put his arm around her. “Help me get up. My butt is getting numb. My poor shirt. OW.” She helped him walk up the beach toward the resort closest to them. He winced, and said, “This is the worst date ever.”

She soberly replied, “Next time I get to pick the place. Now let’s get up those stairs.” She helped him limp into the lobby where the clerk was able to call an ambulance. Five minutes later they were on the way to the hospital.

The next morning, tourist families started spilling out onto the beach, ready for a day of soaking up sun and waiting for the ice cream truck. Laughter mingled with crying seagulls as the waves curled onto the shore. Boys were skim boarding while little ones were wearing floaties and building sandcastles. Exploring the beach, a little boy ventured a few feet away from his mother. “Mom! Look! A pair of shorts in the sand!” He walked up them, pointed at the shorts and kicked sand onto them.

“Stay away from that.” Grabbing his hand, she led him away. “You don’t know where those came from.” And she thought about how disrespectful the owner of the shorts must have been for him to leave them behind after God-knows-what. How insolent of him to think of having sex on the beach, a public place. “Serves him right,” she mumbled. “He lost a good pair of shorts.”