Page 69 of Hate Mail

“Then I would say whoever built you did an excellent job.”

I can hear his hand scraping the sand as he writes our names in it.

“What if I told you that I hate kids?”

“Then I hate them too.”

“And if I told you that I want a baby right now?”

“I would say ‘let’s start trying’ but if you’re a robot, then we might have to adopt.”

I snort, biting back a laugh. I’ve never met anyone like him before. I’m starting to wonder where this guy has been all my life. I think of the last guy I went on a date with, who didn’t seem to think anything I said was funny. Then I think of Luca and all of the ridiculous letters we sent to each other over the years. I wonder what he’s like in real life. I wonder if we would get along like this. I put those thoughts away. I shouldn’t be thinking of Luca when I’m having such a good time with Jake.

“Can I turn around yet?”

“Almost. Just a second.” I can hear him scraping the finishing touches and then smoothing the sand with his hand. “Okay. Turn around.”

I do as he says. I’m surprised to see that he didn’t write our names, but instead drew what looks like a terrible portrait of us in the sand. He drew two big smiley faces: one with hair made of crunchy red seaweed, and the other I assume is supposed to be him. He drew a stick figure body under his own face. A big heart is drawn around both, with several smaller hearts filling in the extra space.

“You didn’t finish,” I say, pointing at the one that’s supposed to be me. “You didn’t give me a body.”

“It’s finished,” he says. “I’m sure anyone who comes across this will know exactly who this is supposed to be.”

“Who knew you were such a great artist?” I say. “You should have gone to art school.”

“Yeah, but then who would save the walruses?”

“I’m sure you could draw them a nice picture.”

A wave rolls in, splashing over our feet, and when it recedes into the ocean, it takes my seaweed hair with it and leaves only a faint trace of his drawing.

I reach out and touch his shoulder, which has a slight pink hue. “Oh no. Looks like I missed a spot. I thought you said you didn’t burn.”

He looks at his shoulder, seeming surprised. “That’s a first.”

“Maybe we should head home,” I suggest. “Unless you wanted to stick around and build a sandcastle.”

“As fun as that sounds, I should probably go home. I promised the kittens I would take them bowling.”

I put on my sandals to walk back across the hot sand toward the parking lot. “Can’t disappoint the kittens. I haven’t heard any noise upstairs in a while. I thought maybe you gave up on bowling.”

“I’ve been trying to keep it quiet for you.”

“So considerate.”

He takes my hand and holds it the rest of the way to the car. When we get back to the building, Joel is at the front desk.

“Good afternoon, Joel.”

He responds with a half-grunted “Hi” and a frown. My smile falters a little. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but he doesn’t seem happy to see me lately. I turn to Jake and see that he’s frowning back at Joel. At least he finally notices the old man’s attitude toward us. I wonder if he’s going to say anything, but he doesn’t.

“Do you need to check your mail?” I ask.

His frown dissolves and he smiles at me. “Nope. Got it earlier.”

When we reach my floor, he pauses, and I get the sense that he’s waiting for something.

“I had a good time today,” I tell him.

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