Beach Day

15: Tiff Invites Herself Fishing

"There's something about this linocut," she says, rubbing her head with a towel. After the shower, she has recognized that she is horrifically sunburned and the salt on her skin didn't help. There's no way in hell that she's going to wear sleeves now. Even though it's December, it's still Florida, and she should be fine. She isn't going to freeze.

Matt's sitting on the edge of one of the beds, watching some local public access television with Drew and Kepler, a bag of nacho-flavored chips between them. Boys will be boys, she supposes. Or maybe it's just the human condition. She reaches over Drew's lap to grab a few.

"What about it?" Matt asks, glancing from the old boxy TV to her.

"It's just... familiar. Like I've seen it before. More than I already have, I mean."

"You've seen it before?"

"Yeah, another kind of... thing. I saw it. That main scene, in real life. But not... Not my real— Yes, Matt, I saw it. I'm not explaining." To punctuate her point, she shoves the chips in her mouth and bites down.

"What'd you see?" Drew asks. He reaches for the remote, probably to turn the volume of the TV down. Kepler smacks his hand; he leaves it alone.

Still chewing, Tiff holds up one finger and goes to the other bed, where she dropped her bag. She produces the book and flips it over to the dog-eared page. She puts it on the bed between Drew and the edge, taps the image.

"She found it at my house," Matt explains. "In some of my dad's stuff."

"Weird." Drew pushes his glasses back up and takes in the image. "That looks— Oh, this is going to sound insane."

Tiff swallows. The bolus scrapes her throat on the way down. Hoarse, she insists, "Say it anyway. What do you have to lose?"

"Your respect?"

"Hah! You think we respect you?" She pats his shoulder gently, trying to make sure he knows that it was affectionate. "We're not going to think you're insane. At least, I'm not. Just say it."

"It looks kinda like Mom."

Matt laughs like he doesn't believe it. "Like Aunt Esther?"

"Yeah, I'm being serious. I was looking at some photo albums with Meemaw Hilda yesterday, while the two of you were doing god knows what—" Drew cuts himself off. "She showed me some pictures from when our parents were all younger. When they were in high school, they had a uniform that looked just like that." He taps the image.

"Shoot," Matt whispers, like he's realizing something. "You're right. Adrianna had the same one, when we went there the year before it closed down. Though, I didn't know that Meemaw still had pictures of Aunt Esther. I thought she got rid of them."

"Why would she get rid of family photos?"

Matt shrugs. "I know Peepaw made her put away all the pictures of Tiff."

"That doesn't surprise me." Tiff takes a seat on the edge of the opposite bed to put on her shoes and tie them. "Remember? We hadn't heard of Aunt Esther until she showed up while we were playing cornhole."

"God, I haven't played cornhole in forever."

"We'll have to play soon. Nobody ever wants to break out the cornole in Lake Wonder."

"Why not? Do those Washington freaks think they're too good for cornhole?"

"Yeah," she sighs, hoping it's clear that she's joking. "Everyone there hates cornhole. They leave the barbeque immediately. It has nothing to do with me messing with fireworks to the delight of neighborhood children."