Beach Day

29: To Market, To Market

The days pass in the simultaneous monotony of being home and the novelty of technically being on vacation. Sometime in all of it, Aunt Esther makes a few concerted efforts to get Tiff out of the woods and into some normal activities— driving around Orlando, hunting for camera parts at yard sales, going to all sorts of places to see all sorts of things and do all sorts of activities. Esther knows what Tiff and Drew want and like: interesting landmarks, science museums, and the opportunity to make fun of weird, old stuff. They're the same, in that way.

Tiff checks her phone between one yard sale and the next. Wednesday winter yard sales are good for one thing, and it's having interesting items with zero use. For the sake of being polite, Tiff bought an eight‐ball‐shaped keychain for ten cents at the last one; Aunt Esther bought a "new" Star Wars novel, plus some "secret items" Tiff assumes are supposed to be Christmas presents. That's a mystery she won't try to solve.

Plus, it's a nice reminder of what her aunt likes. Her weird obsession with Jar‐Jar Binks has given Tiff more than enough perfectly‐shaped ammunition to shoot at the proverbial Christmas tree, including an old, broken figurine she found early Monday morning.

This house is the last one of the day, she knows. They have to get lunch and head back to the motel, and then she has to go to youth group (like an idiot). She'll walk there just to try to shake the nerves. Otherwise, she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what she's going to say. This isn't like the ill‐fated DARE assembly stunt. She doesn't have an essay prepared and a moment anticipated. Even with the impending improvisation, maybe it isn't worth it to worry about what happens next.

She texts the text, reads it, rereads it. Matt has been in touch with her, both in person and over the phone, through Drew when her phone glitches out and she can't turn it on. The gist of it is always the same: there are no leads and he doesn't know where to go next. She starts to type out a reply until her phone shocks her and shuts off.

With a sigh, she tucks the phone into her back pocket. At this rate, she's going to have to get a new one, since she hasn't been able to fix it. Maybe she'll just get a cheap flip phone, like Aiden. Something with a shitty camera.

It's fine; she got by without a phone for years. The past few days are nothing. It's okay to sit by the gross, polluted pool at Penitent Ivan's and discuss how they need to keep what they're learning from Peepaw, who won't take kindly to this. The hypocrisy of keeping something from him is not lost in the static.

It's been an okay few days. Granted, she has been able to stay away from her parents and engage with her Meemaw more than anyone else. That's how you keep the peace, right? you fade away entirely. Mentally, you go to Kansas, even when you don't want to.

Drew claps a hand on her bare shoulder. The sunburn has faded enough that it doesn't hurt anymore. It just makes her more aware of the fact that her skin is going to start peeling soon.

"So," he says, walking alongside her up the flat walkway to the laid‐out blankets on grass that is dry for once. "What's the plan for today? Are you going to do some more weird shit?"

"Why, you want to come with me?"

"Maybe."

"Don't let my lifestyle grow on you, dude. You're allowed to not want to do it. I wouldn't blame you." She shrugs with his hand still on her shoulder. "It's not like I blame Tony and Olive for dipping after the whole Halloween Men debacle."

He pauses, puts his other hand on her shoulder, and tries to look her in the eye. (She looks away.) "I don't know what the fuck we saw in the woods‐‐"

"Bone creature."

"—but we're going to get rid of it before Christmas, and then I'm going to get drunk and forget about it. Ya dig?"