We came off the boardwalk and I saw our things first.
The boardwalk stand had one teenager working the register, one blender that sounded sick, and a line that moved like punishment. I kept glancing back toward the beach between orders of frozen drinks and people arguing over extra syrup. By the time we finally got our lemonades, nearly twenty minutes had passed.
Nora carried hers carefully with both hands.
Eli was already asking whether he could build his sandcastle close enough to the water for it to “feel brave.”
We came off the boardwalk and I saw our things first.
All of it was piled in the sand.
Grandma’s tote bag.
My beach bag.
The folded blanket I had brought just in case the cabana cushions bothered Grandma’s back.
All of it was piled in the sand.
Then I saw Grandma.
She was sitting in a cheap white plastic chair outside the cabana, directly in the June sun. Her shoulders were slumped. Her hands were red. She was wiping tears from her cheeks with the corner of a napkin.
I could tell she felt small and she was trying to hide it.
The drinks slipped from my hands and hit the sand.
“Grandma, what happened?”
She looked up at me with a stunned, embarrassed expression. I could tell she felt small and she was trying to hide it.
She kept smoothing her skirt over her knees, like if she looked composed enough, none of us would notice how embarrassed she felt.
She pointed toward the cabana.
Grandma’s chin shook.
A younger woman in a white designer swimsuit was stretched across the sofa under the shade, one leg crossed over the other. Two other women sat near her, laughing over something on a phone. A man with a resort towel around his shoulders stood nearby taking pictures for them.
Grandma’s chin shook.
“She made me get out,” she whispered. “She shoved my bag aside and said she needed the space more than I did.”
Something hot went through me.
I looked around and saw an employee in a resort polo standing a few feet away.
“Who moved you?”
“The attendant brought the chair over.”
I looked around and saw an employee in a resort polo standing a few feet away. He looked about nineteen, sunburned, and miserable.
Grandma kept talking, softer now.
