Page 60 of Beaches, Bagels & Babes
“What’s the matter? Notallmysterious, unlabeled VHSes are sex tapes.”
Daisy snorted. A smirk quirked her lips.
“Don’t lie, you’d like that. But fine. Let’s give it a look.”
Candace was too caught up in the moment, too giddy from the lack of sleep, that she failed to notice the hesitation in Daisy’s voice. She unplugged the worklights. Moonlight and the glow from boardwalk lamps filtered in through the gaps in Bagel Bombs! security shutter, but it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She groped for Daisy in the darkness and guided the woman’s tape-clutching hands to the TV’s slot. Together, they pushed it in.
A catchy musical jingle blared out from the little TV. Grainy, potato-quality images of a bygone 1990s Wonderwoodboardwalk flashed over the screen. Women with big, permed hair, rollerbladers, and giant boomboxes were all hilarious blasts from the past. A man’s voice said:
“Spending your vacation at the Jersey Shore? Don’t let it be a bore. Visit Bagel Bombs!, where every bite is an EXPLOSION of flavor.”
Candace’s eyes widened as the video centered on the old Bagel Bombs! Cafe. The vibrant, weird-looking place that drew her in all those years ago while she wilted at her uncle’s side. A mouth-watering display of baked bounty she could not wait to try. The gawky girl who stood at the counter, looking like nothing could tear her down. It was all exactly as Candace pictured in her memories.
Child-Daisy, who could not have been more than five or so in the video, was joined by her parents at the counter. They sang while Daisy did a familiar dance on the counter.
“Bagel bombs, bagel bombs, bite a burst a’ fun! Bagel bombs, bagel bombs, you can’t stop at one!”
The tape abruptly cut. It was not done, but Daisy was. She pressed the eject button and stood facing the TV. In the inky blackness, she looked like a statue standing so still that she scarcely seemed to breathe. Then, with a clean pivot on her heel, she bolted out the back.
Worry surged inside Candace as she scrambled to lock up and chased after Daisy. Her partner did not head to the little back lot where their vehicles waited, but instead, looped around to the boardwalk ramp. She walked so fast, she might as well have been jogging. Candace had to dodge around a pair of wobbling boomers to keep sight of her.
There were not too many stragglers out this late. Technically, the boardwalk was open 24 hours, but Wonderwood’s nightlife was more dive bars than hopping clubs. The people they passed were either too drunk or tired to pay them much mind. Which, thankfully, meant no one noticed as Daisy hopped the boardwalk railing down to the off-limits beach below.
Candace followed. Sand kicked up with their fast movements, stinging her like daggers wherever it hit exposed skin. She tried calling out, but Daisy did not stop until they reached the shoreline. With the icy waves lapping at their sandaled feet, they stood side-by-side facing the pitch black ocean span.
“Daisy,” she started carefully. “We can talk about it, if that would help. I know what it’s like to—”
“You don’t!”
Daisy’s shout was swallowed up by the crashing waves, carried deep into the Atlantic’s churning depths. Then, the ocean’s pull dredged it back up. Her pain, the guilt she bore, came rushing to the surface.
“You don’t know the whole story. No one does.”
“Tell me, then. Please.”
Daisy let loose a breath that rattled her whole body. Her voice was a quiet rush as she went on, talking to the watery void.
“The day they died, I was supposed to pick up ingredients at the corner store on my way home from school. I didn’t. I got caught up working on some stupid art project, and by the time I got there, Mr. Grant had closed. Couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. He’d changed from his summer hours, something that happened every year, but I forgot. So, my parents had to drive off-island to the all-hours big-box store. I offered to go, but they were worried since it was raining and I’d just gotten my license. They were worried aboutme, but they were the ones who—”
As Daisy choked on the next word, Candace placed a featherlight hand on her shoulder. Daisy did not shrug the contact away. She concluded, “It’s my fault they were out that night. It’s my fault they’re gone. I ruined everything.”
“Oh, Daisy… That’s not right. It was an accident. You didn’t ruin anything.”
“I did. And now I’m stuck here, living out their dream. I hate it. I hate myself for hating it even more. And I hateyoumostof all for waltzing in, all perfect and put together, making me think things could be different. My parents are gone. Nothing we do will ever make this place what they thought it could be.”
“Whoever said we had to?”
“What…?”
Daisy’s expression was difficult to read in the muted moonlight. Even so, Candace could not help smiling at the slack jaw she knew the woman wore.
“Who said you had to make it what they wanted? It’s yours now, so you do what you want with it.”
“You’re oversimplifying things.”
“And you’ve complicated things so much you convinced yourself you hate it when I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“Typical,” Daisy spat. “You would be the type to tell someone else what their feelings are.”
