Page 47 of Beach Bodies

OK, Lily. Here’s what we’re going to do. Daniel is now on the list. Yes, killing him jumped into my mind earlier, but that was kneejerk. This is me– yes, seething, but also very much logical and in control, adding his name to my official mental roster in an official capacity.

A traitorous voice wheedles,Well, I probably won’thaveto kill him… surely there will be someone more toxic. Ugh, how am I already trying to find an exit door for the man? He deserves the same consideration as anyone. This isn’t aboutthe way he made me feel seen for the first time in years, or the way he set me on fire like he’d known my body for years instead of minutes. Nope. This is a matter of fuckingprinciple. This is for Jessica.

A couple more guests slip into the pool’s open lanes. A sloppy crawl, a choppy backstroke. Skylar’s mom leaves the water shortly after they begin, her lithe body dripping as she saunters over to where her daughter is, chooses a lounge chair and promptly goes to sleep. Skylar catches me watching and gives me a little wave. I wave back, then make a heart sign with my hands. She makes a heart sign back. I return my eyes to the swimmers.

Skylar’s mother has problems. It’s not like I’ve forgotten her comments about Skylar’s body. But in the end, her toxicity levels would have to be exponential to justify me taking away someone’s mother. Not an impossible standard– I did it once. I still think about Jade– the daughter in question. She was older than Skylar at the time– eighteen– but still so young, which did give me pause. But at the end of the day, I figured that processing the sudden death of her mother would be less damaging than hearing that woman scream things like,No one will ever love you if you look like this– you get that, don’t you?

Was I right? I guess I’ll never know. But I’d like to think I gave Jade a chance at the best possible future. What she does with it is up to her.

But back to the matter at hand. Tomorrow is the official start of week two. The week that I consider my shortlist.

Daniel. Serena. Craig. Three names; right on track. Next step? To let them co-exist for a while in my mind as I considerhow I might kill each of them. Week two is about sketching out plans. By the end of the week, it’ll be one name and one name only. Week three, I finetune and execute my plan. Week four is about making sure I get away with it before going back to Cincinnati.

Experience has taught me that I don’t have to rush to make a decision between the top three. The decision always happens naturally, if not scientifically. If I’ve done the prep work, let the observations settle like sediment, put in the active thought-time, one name will organically rise to the top. There will be a moment this week– like that evening with Carli Elle in the sauna– when something sparks and the decision is made for me.

Because that’s how it feels. That a light flips on all by itself, illuminating the way forward. It’s not a denial of my agency– I don’t want Mr Sartre to turn in his grave on my behalf, God rest his existentialist soul. It’s more an acceptance of the kismet involved.

At the end of my shift, my roommate River relieves me. As I sign out on the clipboard, she says, ‘Hey, a bunch of us lifeguards are having a Euchre tournament. We might take over our room tomorrow, if that’s OK.’

I freeze my smile into place. Tomorrow is my day off, and I was going to hole up in the room with my laptop, log into the Guest Services Portal using Vic’s username and password, and start piecing things together. But… you know what? It might do me some good to get out of Dodge. Get a little space, a little perspective. I’ll rent one of the Riovan bikes and head to Brisebleue– pronounced Briz-bloo– Saint Lisieux’s only town. There are legendary daiquiris at IslandVibes, the only bar in Saint Lisieux’s only town, and you can always overhear some Riovan gossip since a lot of the local staff drink there.

‘Sounds great,’ I say.

‘You’re welcome to join!’ says River. ‘Do you know how to play Euchre? It’s supposed be a Midwestern game. Hannah taught us. It’s really fun, once you get the hang of it!’

‘Nah,’ I lie. ‘I never understood it.’

In fact, Euchre was the card game of choice in Calumet Heights. I could whip everyone’s ass, no questions asked… if I were here to play games.

But I’m not.

Chapter Seventeen

Next morning, I dress quickly in a tank top and cut-offs and apply some sunscreen, rubbing a little extra into my cheeks, where a few new freckles have appeared. I head to the dining hall to grab a quick breakfast. Then, with my laptop and water bottle in my backpack, I head down to the Adventure Rentals outbuilding.

‘Thirty-five dollars for twelve hours,’ says the man behind the desk, where bikes, kayaks and paddle boards can be rented by the hour or for the day. I fork over some cash, exit into the muggy morning air with my sky-blue bike, and I’m off.

The road starts off at an incline, climbing from the coast to a rocky plateau before dipping into the rainforest. I’m sweating within minutes.

Honestly, it feels good to sweat from effort rather than boiling in the lifeguard’s chair, unable to move. I’m not one for predictions, but this is going to be a good day. A productive day. I’m going to make my plans and figure out what the hell to do about Daniel.

It doesn’t take too long for the Riovan to disappear behind me. There’s a whippy little wind for a while, and I have to move to the shoulder of the road as a Riovan shuttle bus passes me, but soon the rainforest looms, a deep, saturated emerald. Here, the road splits. The paved road leads to the airport, and the dirt road leads to Brisebleue.

It seems telling. The paved road towards departure, as if the road itself is trying to remind me how much easier it would be just to leave. The rougher road is for staying.

The coffee and steel-cut oats from my hurried breakfast slosh in my stomach as I bump down the rutted incline that takes me off the main road. A moped chugs by, Riovan-bound, shared by two cleaning ladies, as evidenced by their uniforms. They give me a friendly wave. The one behind is holding the driver around the middle, and the driver is laughing. Even though they’re only in my field of vision for a few seconds, I can feel the warmth between them like the sun on my neck. The comfort, the security of their friendship. A little curl of envy moves through me. I used to have that… and for a few hours, I thought I could have it again with Daniel. And now I have to consider how I could kill him.Unfair.It’s very tempting to feel sorry for myself. I flick these feelings away. A good day, remember?

A few other mopeds pass me, then a battered-looking Jeep with four guys in maintenance jumpsuits, and a few people on dilapidated bicycles– more workers headed to the Riovan. How do the locals feel about the resort? It provides employment, sure, but it also privatized most of the nice beaches for the tourists to enjoy.

What if I had got my way? What if, at twenty-four, I hadsucceeded in shutting the Riovan down? Would the locals have been cheering, or pissed that their jobs were gone?

Either way, I know I was naive to even think it was possible. But I was reeling from losing Jessica, and I wanted to see the place burn, no matter the consequences.

I seriously must have solicited every news outlet, starting with theNew York Timesand theAtlanticand going down the list from there. Surely, someone would want to run the story of two lovers who went away to a wellness resort and came back the opposite of well. Ruined. My strategy was top-down. First, the big publications. By the time I made it to theTampa Advertiser Monthly, something in me had hardened. I can’t even call it disappointment. It was… well, no one gave a shit. The worst thing in the world had happened to Jess, to me, and no one cared; no one but me– and Jess’s family, of course.

Maybe the subject wasn’t serious enough for theNew York Timesor clickbaity enough for theTampa Advertiser, or maybe no one was interested in trash-talking the powerful conglomerate that owns the Riovan. Whatever the cause, my efforts were dead in the water. I had to let it go, but I had no idea how to do that.

I wasn’t new to death. Mom had already died– but cancer isn’t personal. Jessica’s downfall? It was absolutely personal. Toxic people fanned the flames of her normal insecurities into the raging bonfire that ultimately consumed her.

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