“Yes.”
“Gee, that doesn’t sound the least bit intimidating. Isn’t there somewhere we could watch where I’d feel less out of place? You know, like in a pit of wild panthers or something like that?”
I lean across the desk and wag a finger in his face. “I just marched in a parade for you. A parade through crowds of people! Don’t even get me started about feeling out of place.”
“Okay, okay,” he says. “I’ll do it.”
I hear a new band being announced at the bandshell and I panic.
“What time is it?”
“Two o’clock,” he says.
“We gotta go.”
“I’ve still got ten minutes for my lunch break,” he replies.
“The Founding Fathers are playing,” I reply. “I don’t want to miss my song.”
We hurry out of the office and get to the bandshell just as they start to play it.
“Isabel is watching like a princess from the mountains . . .”
Ben smiles when he realizes what’s going on. “Very nice,” he says. “Your dad has a good voice.”
We listen for a while, and even though I’ve heard it countless times, this is the first time I take notice of one particular line.
“With a whisper of her sadness in the passing of the summer . . .”
As a girl I’d always focused on the princess line, but now the idea of sadness and the passing of summer has new meaning. That’s in the future though. Right now, I’m just going to focus on enjoying it.
During my shift at Surf Sisters I have moments of nostalgia, sadness, laughter, and anger. We all do. It’s just impossible for us to believe that such an important part of our life is coming to an end. Mickey and Mo try to keep our spirits up, but it’s hard to separate the job part from the surfing and the friendship parts. In a way we’re lucky that it’s the Fourth because we’re so busy dealing with customers, we don’t have much time to dwell on the negative.
Ben arrives right before closing. He’s made a point of going home and switching out of his work clothes and is now rocking the whole islander look with a pair of khaki shorts, a graphic tee, and flip-flops.
“Badger Ben sure doesn’t look like he’s from Wisconsin anymore,” Sophie jokes with a friendly nudge.
I give her a look. “I thought we decided ‘Badger Ben’ didn’t work.”
She nods. “I just thought I’d give it one last try.”
He walks over to me, does a double check of everyone in the room, and whispers conspiratorially, “I’m the only dude here. Are you sure this is okay?”
Despite his best efforts to keep these concerns quiet, Mo has overheard him. She comes up from behind and whispers into his ear, “She’s sure.”
Startled, Ben turns around to see her smiling.
“We always like to have a couple guys around,” she continues, “just in case any menial jobs come along.”
I think this is Mo’s way of testing him. A lot of boys might get defensive or feel intimidated. But Ben just goes with the flow and plays along.
“Well, if that’s the case,” he says, “I think my vast experience doing menial chores for Parks and Rec makes me more than qualified. Do you have any playground vomit that needs cleaning up?”
“No,” she says, pleased by his response. “But the night’s still young, so you might want to check in with me later.”
Despite this confidence, I’m sure Ben feels a little more comfortable when a few more guys show up. This includes Mickey’s husband and—surprise, surprise—Nicole’s longtime crush, Cody Bell.
“Did Nicole invite him?” Sophie asks.
“She must have,” I say. “Probably today at the parade.”
Sophie beams with pride. “Aren’t my girls growing up?”
I shoot her a look and hope that Ben hasn’t overheard. Sophie, meanwhile, walks over toward Nicole and Cody. From past experience I know that’s she going in as a wingman to make sure that Nicole doesn’t get too nervous.
“What was that about?” Ben asks.
“Just Sophie being Sophie,” I say before I quickly change the subject. “Wanna see the roof?”
“Sure.”
I guide Ben into the storeroom, where I pull a set of folding stairs down from the ceiling. A generation ago these led to the attic, but the roof has been remodeled and includes a full wooden deck with a wraparound railing and spectacular 360-degree views.
“I get to go up here every two hours to update the surf report,” I tell him as we reach the top and open the door to the deck. “My reward is the view.”
“Okay, wow!” he says when he steps out and sees what I’m talking about.
Night has fallen over the ocean; the lights along the boardwalk and the pier are coming alive as the moon casts a silvery wash across the water. It is incredibly romantic, and when I see that we are all alone, I sneak a quick but meaningful kiss.
“That’s why you wanted to be the first ones up?” he says.
My smile confirms my guilt, although I admit to nothing.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. “So what did you think of Independence Day Pearl Beach style?”
“Different from Wisconsin, that’s for sure.”
“How do you guys celebrate up there? Milking cows? Churning butter?” I joke.
“I’m going to ignore that because today you came to my rescue,” he says. “I know you’re not a big fan of being in the spotlight, so marching in a parade could not have been fun.”
“Fun? No, it was not fun. It was terrifying.” I’m only half joking, but we both laugh.
“I do appreciate it.”
Pretty soon everyone else makes their way up onto the roof, and we all enjoy some yummy teriyaki chicken skewers that Mickey’s husband picked up at Chicken Stix, a kebab shack a couple blocks down the beach. As you’d expect from a Surf Sisters get-together, it’s pretty low key and mellow. The funny thing is that no one is talking about the one thing that’s on everybody’s mind. Then, a few minutes before the fireworks are scheduled to begin, Mickey takes a sip from her glass of wine and addresses us all.
“We’d like to thank you for coming tonight. Back when Mo and I were young girls—way before there was an actual deck up here—our dad would bring us out on the roof every Fourth of July. We’d lie with our backs against the wooden shingles and watch the fireworks go off. We thought we had the best view on the island, and I think you’d have to agree that we were right. So, as we celebrate this tradition one final time, I’d like to propose a toast to the man who started it.”
She holds up her glass, and everyone else holds up whatever they’re drinking. (For me it’s sweet tea.) “To Steady Eddie.”
“Steady Eddie,” everyone says with enthusiasm.
“King of the Beach,” adds Mo.
It’s the last part that punches me in the gut. I think about the Surf City float in the parade with its King of the Beach sitting on a throne surrounded by Kayla and her friends. It represents the opposite of everything that Steady Eddie embodied. The opposite of everything I believe in. This is the thought that nags me as we watch the fireworks.
The show lasts for about twenty minutes and really lives up to its billing as spectacular. I love the way the colored lights reflect off the water. Standing on the roof, I see that the boardwalk sparkles almost as much. It’s great, but even still, I can’t get rid of that nagging feeling.
“What are you thinking?” Ben asks toward the end.
“That it looks beautiful,” I respond.
“No, I mean, what are you thinking about?” He gives me a look that says he knows something is on my mind. “Be honest—is it a problem that I’m here?”
Apparently, I’m not only bad at reading signs but also at giving them.
“Absolutely not,” I say, trying to speak loud enough so that he can hear but soft enough so that no one else can. “It’s amazing that you’re here. Amazing.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause it doesn’t look like it.”