Beach Day

4: Overnostalgia

The soft, terrified thing under her ribs beats against the cage. Is that her heart, or is it the memory of who she used to be? Maybe there isn't a meaningful difference between the two. Maybe there is just a continuum from who she used to be to who she is now, and she is grieving for the loss of the left half of the spectrum. It wouldn't be hard to take it back and be that girl again.

As Matt drives away from town to the outskirts where the buildings are less condensed, Tiff props her chin on her hand and her elbow on the edge of the window. She stares out through spots of dirt at places she used to know like old friends. There's the sunbaked wooden park and the cracked old swing set where Jordan Keane tried to kiss her in the way elementary school kids do. (She was so unwittingly aromantic that she just walked away without a word and justified that choice with the fact that she, ten and on the cusp of everything, wasn't supposed to be kissing boys anyway.) There's the stretch of road where she almost crashed about three separate times when Uncle Mike was teaching her to drive. From the one-story public library to the historical markers, fourteen years of the life she used to live haunt these streets. It all comes rushing back to her in waves of nostalgia, twisting the dagger into that small animal whimpering between her bones.

The animal in the back seat seems content, at least. His soft, happy squeaking is proof enough. The sun shines through the clouds, Kepler is behaving, and, except for her weird semi-breakdown at their grandparents' house, everything is going fine. The Time Gnome was just as wrong as she was. This is going to be a great experience, if she can manage to stay away from her mother.

Over the Seether playing on the radio, Tiff asks, "Where are we headed?"

Matt shrugs. "No clue. I just figured we should get out of there while we still could. Peepaw was going to have me do something and I... wasn't in the mood. Plus..." He chuckles uncomfortably. Though he seems perfectly at home behind the wheel, this situation must not be one he has mastered yet. "Cousin bonding was a good excuse to get out of there. How about... Uh... Shoot, how about we head to the bridge?"

Tiff grins wickedly, knowing exactly what he's getting at. "Did you even bring paint?"

"Did you bring a Bible?"

"Hah! Please. I don't need that anymore."

"Paint's in the toolbox. Always is."

Remembering Andy in the back seat, Tiff barely remembers not to curse in her excitement. "I'm glad I wore my painting jeans. Though— all my jeans are painting jeans."

It's like being sixteen again, A part of her thinks she could look over her shoulder and see Andy dozing off with his head in Adrianna's lap. Everything changes, though. Andy looks around with bright, anxious eyes, and Adrianna is nowhere to be seen.

It's hard not to wonder where she is. Maybe Adrianna, like Tiff, managed to defy expectations for women in their family and headed off to college. That would be nice, she thinks. It would be nice if both of them were succeeding in the ways they always wanted to. Now isn't the time to ask Matt where the hell his twin got off to. They'll catch up soon. For now, she's just going to live in this nostalgia.

"I'm surprised you're, uh—" Tiff cuts herself off, because her thought was non-substantial anyway. There's no point in pointing out the obvious.

Matt isn't going to let that happen, though. "Surprised I'm what? Are you talking about the music?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I guess it's just been a while— I forgot how terrified any sort of wrongdoing used to make me, even if it wasn't actually a sort of wrongdoing."

"Yeah," Matt chuckles, "remember how you used to make Ade and I put on gospel pop? Newsboys?"

"Oh, god, don't remind me about Newsboys. You know my mom thought they were too secular! It was a rebellion! Even if they didn't think God was dead."