Fiction Essay

Tide Change

‘Why do you do torture us every weekend?’ My insides yelled at me as I slowly woke up. The beaming warm sunlight hit my face and I slowly opened my eyes, still half asleep. I sat up feeling the sand in between my hands and toes and looked around. Coconut trees and water were all my eyes could see. It looked like a familiar beach, but I was too drained to even think about anything. ‘You need water!’ I said to myself, before trying to figure out where on earth I was. I stood up all zombie like and stumbled over to a coconut tree. Feeling weak from the night before, cracking the coconut felt like trying to break a solid stone with bare hands. Managing to open it, I stood up and held it over my head, about 20% of it landed in my mouth. The reason being that my arms felt like achy spaghetti. I licked my lips and layed down; eyes wide open looking up into the blue sky and reminisced my life.

I tried to think of what had happened the night before. All I remember were bright party lights waving back and forth as if they were dangling from an octopus with spazzy tentacles. This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me, so I sort of knew what to do. I took out my phone and checked where I was on google maps. Porter’s Beach popped up, and I immediately knew that I was ten minutes away from the surf spot I used to surf as a kid. This was where I went when I drank too much and needed a place to sleep because all of my friends had gone home two hours before I even thought about leaving the party. I dragged my body past the coconut trees until I got to Zippy’s restaurant. With only five bucks in my pocket I sat down and soon saw all that a five could get me was a single egg or a cup of OJ.

“Hey there. What can I get started for you today?”

I cleared my throat sort of embarrassed knowing all I could get was the OJ. Before I spoke I looked up and saw this drop dead gorgeous waitress about my age, so the embarrassment went from a 5 to a 10.

“Yah I just ate a big breakfast with a bunch of friends that are all down there surfing, so I’ll just get something quick. How about the OJ please.”

“Okie dock, should be out shortly,” she replied in an angel like voice that sounded better than heaven.

While she was getting the OJ I went to the bathroom, because you know how the bladder gets after a long night. Looking at myself in the mirror I was even more embarrassed. Sand was smeared all over my face and my hair was all crusty from spilling beer on myself. My confidence dropped and my embarrassment rose as I went back to my table.

“Here’s the OJ for you.”

“Hey I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call someone so they can pick me up?”

“Oh, sure thing”

I quickly dialed my own phone number so I’d have hers, then I actually called my mom who didn’t answer. I pretended to talk to her anyways and shortly after gave her the phone back.

A couple days had passed and my hangover was finally gone so I decided to give the waitress a call. Apparently the only reason she said yes to me asking her out to lunch is because she taught me putting in my own number was very smooth and clever. That’s me; Bentley the smooth and clever surfer boy.

When I got there she was already sitting down waiting for me.

“Hey there, I see you’re look a little less hungover than last time you were here, huh?”

“Ha, ya that was a rough night, I’ve been having a lot of those lately. I didn’t catch your name last time what was it?”

“It’s Katie, and I know what can always help a bad day; A surf seshhhhhh!”

“No way you surf?” I was in love.

We used the two boards she had brought that were in her car and surfed all day. It was the best day of my life. The tide was perfect, the ocean was a crystal clear blue like katies eyes, and we were the only ones out there. You could tell the tide was perfect because of the crashing sounds the waves made.

“That was amazing! I don’t think I’ve had that much fun in years!” I yelled enthusiastically, laying my board next to hers on the sand. Laying down with arms wide open as if I were about to make a sand angel, I layed and thanked the ocean gods.

“You don’t surf much anymore do you?”

“No, parties and work take up most my time so I don’t do much anymore.”

“Well why don’t we come surf here tomorrow after I get off?”

I moved my head rapidly up and down and agreed without hesitation.

We surfed everyday after that all summer, and she pretty much saved me from becoming the alcoholic I was on the path for. She was actually smart and wanted to do other things than just party and drink like my other friends. It was turning out to be the best summer I’ve ever had, until she broke the news to me.

“Bentley, this has been the best summer of my life, but you know I have to go back to New York.”

This hit me like a truck driving straight at you going well over 200 on a straight away. I hadn’t even thought about college. My grades were bad and I was lazy.
“You can’t leave me here, After this summer, you can’t just leave.”

We argued back and forth for hours until she basically left me on the beach and ran away in tears because she knew she had to go back. A week went by and I didn’t see her at all before she left. I rejected her calls and could’t say goodbye when she left. I sat on the beach where we used to surf for the next week straight drinking and being miserable. Then it hit me as I was sitting there watching the tide change. I sat thinking about how many times she told me how smart I was and how I could really be something when I was older. That was when it hit me. I wanted to be something to her. I ran back to Zippy’s quit on the spot and ran home. Five miles in 35 minutes; Maybe I could join the track team at NYU or something.

Poetry

Taking

People talk,

And talk some more.

People cry for help.

Many pretend to listen,

but none act.

People take,

And take some more.

Why take?

There is so much to give.

 

Rhyme Poetry

 

Truth

 

People hear what they want

Nobody listens to truths

Everyone is so nonchalant

Confessing sins to the church booth

Go homes to family and flaunt

As if confessing took the false truth

Erased all their haunt

 

Haiku

 

Humans

 

The earth was very calm

Trees animal and quiet

Humans ended that

 

Tanka

Sad king

 

I need new faces,

I have been here for too long.

Doing the same things,

But feeling a different pain.

I am a king with no rings.

Narrative non-fiction

I Before U

Pro this, pro that. “You gotta go pro if you wanna have a good life song.” Words I used to hear every time I got dropped off at my U13 soccer practices, which was every day, six days a week, year round… Seems like I’d remember that after the first 200 times I was told, but my dad didn’t think so; and if that wasn’t enough, after the games, speeches would come next.

“Pass the ball back, then open up so you can see the field. Then create space and lay it off for the give and go. Once you got the ball from the give and go. get in front of the defender. If he fouls we all know its an automatic red followed by a PK.”

This continued until who knows when. I always wondered how long he kept talking after I had fallen asleep. The two hour ride back from Portland seemed like a road trip. I’d node my head until the nod turned into a deep sleep. My dad probably didn’t even notice. Eventually the hard work did pay off. Only kid from Eugene to make the Oregon state team. Proud parents made for happy times. I actually liked my dad being so into it, because it showed he actually cared. The part I didn’t like came after. Happy times come to an end, unless you’re a retired old dude playing golf year round in Mexico; which I wasn’t.

I eventually made it to regionals and that’s where it sort of went down hill. On the first day my heel started bothering me so much during the first hour; it felt like needles were poking up my foot every time I took a step. I ended up having to limp my way over to the nurse’s tent. Iced all night and it never did get better. A sad dad arrived later that day and took me back to Eugene. I couldn’t tell if I was more disappointed or if he was. No words were exchanged on the ride back.

Eventually we made it to Slocum, where they broke the news to me. Because of so much over use of my feet, my two growth plates were rubbing up against each other, causing immense pain. ‘Sever’s disease’ is what it was called. Not really a disease, but more like shin splints in your heel. On went the cast for six months. A week before going back to get it taken off, I was so eager to play I literally sawed it off myself so I could go back and play. I got there and everything was fine, until a week went by and the pain got even worse. I rested and rested, but it never really felt great. I could play a little, but after a while it went back to hurting again. After a year or so, I gave up on it and tried something new.

Baseball became my new passion. Sadly it was never a passion anyone had in my family. My dad never went to the games, and when he did, he never cheered or really cared much. It didn’t bother me, though. I had fun doing it, and after putting in enough work I became a varsity starter as a freshman. It took me until then to realize that it was my life and my choices. I got to pick what I wanted to do and what I wanted to be. I let my dad know that after I quit soccer. I told him I wasn’t him and that life didn’t go my way, so I chose something else that made me just as happy. Getting those words out was like, spitting out that bad tasting sunflower seed you had stuck in your mouth all game. He understood and never bothered me about trying to go back and play. Instead he told me to work hard at what I loved and if I did, things would always fall into place.