Sand Castle Sandy

I just nodded, acknowledging that it was a good idea. "First though," he asked, "tell me what you would like the scales of your dragons to look like." I paged through my sketchbook until I found the detail section and held it out for him to follow. He smiled at me and then went to carving, executing my vision perfectly. I tabled the story in my head, fixating on his smile instead. It helped.

At mid-afternoon, I was feeling tons better. My shaking had stopped around noon and I was able to fix what I had kind of messed up in the morning. I picked up steam and was pleased that Rick had worked through all of the dragons, getting their details finished and then moved to the carnage from the siege. He kept my sketchbook within an arm's reach at all times to get it right. I had worried about getting the sculpture finished during daylight, but working together like this, we'd finish earlier than I had ever finished one before.

At dinnertime, I felt we were done and he agreed. I asked him if we could move over to his station and finish Vickie. He looked at her closely and then declined. "I kind of like the way she landed. Her face and body is just like I wanted it, and all the other things don't matter."

After I took a million pictures of both of our entries, we gathered our tools and made our way to my RV. Along the way he asked me if I wanted to have dinner with him. I kind of panicked. He noticed my distress and tried to calm me down, "Just dinner. That's all."

Finding my voice, I said, "I usually make a sandwich in my RV after a day of carving."

"Which you probably get tired of. Let's get something to eat at that little cantina, no drinks this time, and then come back and talk to Vickie." I couldn't tell if he said that tongue-in-cheek or if he really was as crazy as I am. I settled for the former.

I agreed to dinner but asked him for a favor first. After throwing my tools in the RV and losing my cutoff jean shorts, I had him follow me to the showers. He vigilantly stood guard with his back to me and I was able to get all of the sand out of my privates without any bystander getting a solo porn scene from me. Afterwards, I did the same for him, not that he needed me to, only at one point I had thought he finished and turned my head to see. I was wrong. He had his board shorts pulled away from his lower abdomen and had a hand vigorously washing the sand from his privates, angled to take advantage of the water spray. I couldn't look away. Until he caught me looking.

We walked back to my RV so I could dry off and change for dinner when he said, "Who's the perv now?"

*

I was pleased that when he picked up his change of clothes, he retrieved them from a beat-up pickup truck parked in the same lot as the RV. His truck would be vintage and cool if it was in good shape, but it had seen some hard miles. I let him change in the RV while I waited outside.

The cantina was packed so we walked to Little Italy and was lucky enough to find a table for two that was complete with a checkered tablecloth and an empty bottle of chianti as a candlestick holder, all covered in wax. The only thing that had me concerned was that the ambiance was heavy on the romantic setting.

I think Rick noticed that too. Our conversation was a little awkward at first. Without saying anything about it to each other, it just felt like it was understood. I was never going to be in a relationship with a man again, and we both knew that. While he was acting sheepish, I knew it was about Vickie and maybe he was feeling a strong river of guilt for being here with me like this.

I finally landed on a thought that would put us on equal footing and a safe spot, "Rick, if you give me your contact information, I can send you the pictures I took of your sculpture. I forgot to tell you that I took pictures of your sculpture last year too and can send those as well." Then it dawned on me that asking for his contact wasn't exactly 'safe' as it could be taken for personal or forward.

He scrunched his face and swirled a ravioli in the marinara sauce on his plate. "Oh. Um. I don't have a phone."

"You're kidding," I responded in surprise, regretting my outburst instantly.

He looked at me with a sullen, "No, um. People kept calling me after Vickie passed, so it, um, kind of got broken."

I got it. "Oh." He looked so sad. I had to look away. "That explains it. I understand now what Brett and Hannah meant, that they couldn't reach you because they literally couldn't reach you."

I thought of something else, "Hannah asked where you were living, um, what was that all about?"

He hesitated before telling me. "Yeah, well, I couldn't stay in that house. It was all Vickie inside and it was just too much. Do you know what I mean?" He pleaded.

"Yeah, I think so," I answered sympathetically. "Where did you go?" I caught myself quickly, "If you don't mind me asking."

"No, it's OK. I, uh, picked up a condo across the bay."

I could see why Brett and Hannah had been so concerned. And pissed. He had no phone, which actually blew my mind, and he moved without telling anyone where.

I looked at his plate, he had finished everything except for the vegetables that he had just picked through.

"Rick," I gently told him, "Vickie would want you to eat your broccoli."

*

After dinner he accompanied me on my ritual and walked the dark beach with me. Since I wasn't walking alone, my mother wouldn't have been disappointed in me for once, even though that kind of irritated me. We sat in silence and enjoyed some wave therapy until checking on our sculptures one last time.

He walked me to my RV, but before parting ways, I asked him if he was going to show up to the pier over the weekend. He responded, "I wasn't going to. I don't like the whole public viewing thing or the judging thing, just the building thing. That said, I promised Brett I would be there because he and Hannah are bringing their twins to the public viewing, and I've known them since they were born. They've missed their Uncle Rick, and I've missed them too, only it's going to be hard. Their Aunt Vick was always with us when we visited."

I looked into the face of his sculpture and once again felt something, only I didn't need to have her eyes tell me what I knew I needed to say and do. "Well I'm glad you're going to be there," I smiled up at him, "First, I would like the support, I hate the judging thing too. Second, if we don't get the best in show, I want to blame your involvement for our loss." He grinned at that. "And thirdly, I'll have a surprise for you."

"OK, I'll see you in the morning, Sandy."

"OK. Thanks for everything today. Goodnight." I said before realizing we were at an awkward moment. Do I shake his hand? Do I hug him goodnight? What should I do?

He chuckled at my distress and made the decision for me, wrapping me up into his arms for a warm embrace. Which felt good. Really fucking good.

*

When he showed up to the pier just before it was about to open for viewing the competition, I had already been there for hours. I looked at all the entries, chatted it up with some other sculptors, and had gotten two large cups of coffee down. My tummy flipped a little when I saw him, but that was probably just the caffeine talking.

"Good morning," I greeted him.

"More like 'weird' morning," he said with a playful tone.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I woke up in my own bed and not in some strange RV with a woman sleeping in her own bed next to me." I laughed at that.

"That's not the only thing that made my morning weird," he said with a wink. "Look what I picked up today." He held up a brand-new smart phone.

I laughed again. "Welcome to the twenty-first century."

I put my arm in his and directed him to his sand sculpture of his wife, "And now my surprise for you. I hope you don't mind."

In the wee hours of the morning, armed with a spray bottle of water and the Jack of Hearts blue Bicycle plastic playing card, I made a change to Vickie and set things right. I had finished the detailing of her breasts, and now, clearly visible through her sand bikini top, were a pair of proudly standing nipple bumps.

*

2

*

I had just the right number of legs to host the two little girls, one clutched to each leg as they cried and ignored their mother's pleas to let me go. It was the last day of the school year and these two little ones didn't want it to end. Finally their mothers were able to peel them away and through teary eyes, one of the little girls said, "I'm going to miss you."

I said to both of them, "I'm going to miss both of you. Have a great summer, and next year when you are in first grade, stop by and say 'hi' to me anytime, OK?" It was an honest invitation; I have former students stop by all the time and it was fun watching them grow.

The rest of the class had already left and I watched my two holdouts leave with their mothers. I was finally alone and got that familiar bittersweet feeling in my soul that I always feel on the last day of school. As if on cue, my phone rang and when I saw the caller ID, my tummy flipped.

"Hi, Rick." I said into the phone.

He replied, "Hi, Sandy. How was the last day of school?"

"A little sad, really," I replied, "this was a good group of kids."

"Well I know what will cheer you up," he said in his chipper phone voice he had. "A sandy Sandy road trip."

I chuckled, "Ha. I see what you did there."

He chuckled at his own joke, then asked if I was ready. I told him, "I'm getting there." I paused briefly. I got that awkward feeling again.

"Good," he said, filling the silence. "I can't wait to see what you come up with for San Diego."

"Hey, are you sure you want to do this?" I asked tentatively. Last year he had been fined $500 and disqualified for competing this year in San Diego after the equipment used to remove the competition entries hit his metal substructure and damaged the base of the pier. Yet there was nothing banning him from being my replacement assistant, which was a good thing, all my other attempts to find a student to help me didn't pan out after a last minute cancellation.

"Absolutely," he replied. I was sure he sensed how desperate I had been and how hard it was for me to even call him and ask.

"OK. Thank you for doing this."

"No problem. I'm looking forward to it. I'll let you go now but call me when you get to town."

"Alright. I'll see you in a few days."

"Oh, and Sandy?" He said, sounding serious.

"Yeah?"

With concern that felt genuine, he said, "Drive carefully, OK?" I felt my tummy flip again.

I replied almost under my breath, "OK, I will."

I hung up and sat at my desk, looking at the far wall of my classroom in thought. He had been doing that recently. Sounding concerned about me for some reason. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around all this.

It started so innocuously. Before we parted in San Diego, we exchanged contact information. He even showed me that I was the first contact he loaded into his new phone.

It was for a simple request he had, he wanted me to send him pictures of my castles at each stop along the way. So I did. He'd reply every time with support and admiration for my skills, but I knew better. His skills at shaping sand were far superior to mine.

I kept up with my promise which meant that he followed my progress as I moved north along the coastal competition circuit.

With the RV tucked away at Mom's at the end of the summer and the new school year under way, I figured, that was that. Further cemented to me as I didn't hear from him as the weeks went by. All for the best, I thought.

It was in late October when he broke his radio silence and sent a text with about 20 pictures attached. It started with a selfie of him in front of a famous castle I recognized, followed by distance and even detailed shots of various castles while he apparently was touring Scotland. It ended with a follow-up text, "Thought maybe you would like to see these for sand-spiration. Wish you were here."

Wish you were here. Wish you were here. Sam and I exhaustively went over what he meant by that when she stayed with me over one of what we called 'Sister Weekend Extravaganzas'. Sam added the 'extravaganza' term, tongue in cheek of course, our weekends typically involved nothing more than a little wine, cuddling on the couch, and watching stupid movies on TV.

Sam wanted me to reply to Rick with something, anything, but I just couldn't. I was glad my sister understood.

On Christmas he sent a 'Merry Christmas' text, followed up with a 'Happy New Years' a week later. I just gave them simple replies of, "Thanks. Same to you."

Valentine's Day came and went without a word from him and I was relieved. It was obvious now that I had been reading into his previous communication. Hearing nothing over Valentines meant he looked at me as a friend and nothing more, for both now and in the future. With such a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, I can't explain why I cried myself to sleep that night.

I didn't hear from him again until the end of March. Deja vu. A text with multiple pictures, starting with a selfie. This time the subject, the star of his pictures, was Germany's storybook castle, Neuschwanstein. Followed up with, "Something like this would be fun to see in sand with your own artistry. Wish you were here."

I called my sister and we pulled up the next scheduled Sister Weekend Extravaganza two weeks early.

*

I really had been desperate. It was a week before the end of the school year and the student I had set up to be my carving assistant in San Diego called in order to back out. Using my resources as a teacher, it had always been easy to find an art student to assist in every city, but I came up empty.

After what seemed like a dozen false starts, I reached out to Rick. He sounded happy to hear from me and we talked on the phone for two hours. I told him of my predicament, and he told me of his disqualification and fine, which he actually laughed about. He volunteered to help me like I hoped he would, even saying he'd be thrilled to be my assistant.

*

The first thing I noticed when I pulled my Honda into Mom's driveway was that the tarps had been pulled off the RV at the side of the house. The next thing I noticed was Sam, who looked like she was pacing the front porch of the house until she saw my car and bounded down the steps toward me in a flash.

I barely got out of my car when she pulled me by the hand to the side of the house, looking over her shoulder as she did so. She asked, "Where have you been! I've been trying to reach you!"

I started to tell her about all my annoying issues lately with a broken, frayed phone charger cord and still not having a replacement to resuscitate my dead phone when she waved me silent. Snapping, "Does the name 'Becky Jeng' mean anything to you?" Her eyes searching my own, trying to speed up my answer.

It didn't ring a bell and I told her so. "Yeah," she said after rolling her eyes, "that's what I thought." She looked over her shoulder again.

"What's going on," I asked, starting to panic.

She sighed, seeing my distress. She tamped down her own and went into sister-mode, willing herself to be calm like she tends to do with me. "Before you go in the house, I need to tell you a couple of things. This Becky person called me, she's your boyfriend's personal assistant..."

Cutting her off, I sort of whimpered, "I don't have a boyfriend," but I knew she meant Rick.

After a sympathetic look, she continued, "Rick's PA arranged to have mobile mechanics and a mobile detailing crew come over and work on the RV, inside and out. They left a list of what they did on the dashboard and it is a lot of stuff. Wait until you see the inside, it hasn't looked so good and smelled so clean since before Dad died."

I was stunned. Sam took a deep breath and continued, "This Becky person, how she knew how to reach me I'll never know, but she wanted to make sure I would allow access to the crews and unlock any gates that may impede their access."

"Why didn't you call and tell me?" I asked.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, and I thought, why not? Harmless, thoughtful, you need these kinds of things in your life. I was feeling really good about it until I didn't. I'm so sorry, Sandy." She looked over her shoulder again.

"Sorry for what?" I felt this dark cloud of doom move over my head, and I knew what it was. It had to be about Mom.

She had her hands on both my shoulders now, an edge finding its way through her calm. "Mom went ape shit when she saw all these people working on the RV and tried to kick them off the property. They ignored her, but worse, refused to tell her who had sent them so I... so I... well, she got really belligerent, and I got really pissed at her. I told her it was your boyfriend who sent them as a gift to get the RV ready for your trip."

I groaned, "Oh, no."

She nodded her head knowing, "Mom is pretty worked up about it and she's ready to bulldoze you for not telling her." Then she took me in her arms and real close to my ear, "At least now you'll be able to get out of town a little earlier if you want to. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault."

She held me at arm's length and I thought about how bad this could go and what I should do when I heard a gasp. Standing at the corner of the house glaring at me, my mother spat, "Oh my gahwd, Sandra! What did you do with your hair?! You look ridiculous!"

*

I put up with it as best as I could, basically just tuning Mom completely out. I did tell her that my benefactor who arranged for the mechanics was not my 'boyfriend' but just a friend I knew who was a nice guy. She wasn't buying it and then went on to remind me that I had ruined my marriage by leaving my husband which set Sam off in my defense, at one point my niece even recusing herself in her bedroom with her dog. It was a frosty, angstie filled 24 hours until I finally got in the RV and pulled out of town a day earlier than I planned.

Sam was right. It hadn't looked so clean or smelled so nice inside for years.

If I had driven the 500 miles all in one shot like I normally would, I would have to pay for a day of parking at the pier in San Diego until the sand competition free parking would kick in so I broke the drive in two, parking for free at a Walmart near Santa Barbara. As dusk approached, the parking lot started to resemble a homeless camp with RVs assembling that were even junkier than mine, so I locked the doors and stayed inside, drawing curtains across all the windows.

Leaving early the next morning meant I got into San Diego early too, so I decided I would just walk the beach and hang around the pier until evening when I would call Rick and let him know I had made it in one piece. He had a different idea altogether.

My cell phone rang, caller ID telling me it was Rick. I answered, "Hello?"

"You're early," he enthusiastically replied. "I thought you weren't going to get in until dinnertime."

"How did you know?" I asked. "Did your mechanics put in a tracker or something?"

He laughed. "No, I hadn't thought of that. Maybe next time I will. Ha. Wait. That sounds a little creepy. I wouldn't do that. Let's start over. I can see your RV from my balcony."

"Where...?" I stuttered, looking around for where he might be.

"Look across the bay. Middle white building with a lot of glass, balcony, 10th floor." My first thought was, holy crap, he got a condo with a view of his wife's favorite beach. Only I couldn't see that far very clearly, even with my distance glasses on. He answered my unasked question, "I have a telephoto lens on my DSLR and I was watching the skiploaders push sand around the base of the pier for tomorrow, wondering which spot would be yours. I saw your RV drive in."