Toms River

Yesterday I shaved my legs, quick. Packed up and boarded a bus to toms river, nj. There I sat for four hours because why not. Outside of a little colonial bus station that was more like a kiosk. I laid in the grass and read my book, the use of man. I read for hours about vindictive men and their urges until I looked up and three guys were around me. I shrugged them off. A bus driver motioned me over and told me to move, that area wasn’t safe. I thanked him. I had known the same thing, but I wasn’t going to move. I was too comfortable. Perhaps he knew that, nudged: come on. Don’t be stupid. (but he probably actually thought I was stupid, blonde, and naive.) I moved to the other side of the building and found a tree I could lean up against and not get rashes from the grass. Beetles landed on me. Another man addressed me by miss and warned me about ticks. I smiled and thanked him, though I’m very aware of ticks. 

I finished my book and it broke my heart. It concluded that memories are all we have, especially when things are awful. Memories of feeling and moments of connection and inexplicable bliss shared—that can be only confirmed by the glint in a person’s eye, their irregular heartbeat, telepathy. i and d picked me up from the bus station right after that. My skin was red from the grass and the sun.

We go to new jersey for the fourth every year and have since we were seven or something. 

i and I met when we were babies, and our mothers lived together when our parents split up when we were both three. Our dads have become platonic life partners, though they refer to themselves as buddies. I used to tell people i and I were sisters, and she’s still the closest thing I have to one; from what I’ve heard about sisters, that’s what we are. We picked out boys on the beach or on our street we thought were cute and made up names for them and plugged them into romances. We had matching toy mermaids, hers pink and mine blue. We fought ruthlessly, screamed and slammed doors in each other's faces. Then whispered what we dreamed about. Now we live far away from each other and have a snapchat streak to stay clued into each other's lives and know everything there is to know about each other.

We got to the house and hugged and kissed everyone and got to drinking. I looked at my toes and wished I had painted them beforehand. The red I painted on them weeks ago is grown out and dull. I cut them over a baby blue plastic trash can. I dove into the lagoon. i’s dad and his friend played guitar and made up songs. We took jello shots under a full moon.