Under the Surface (8 page)

The drive
here took about forty-five minutes, and it’s after three in the morning.

“No, but I’ve
always wanted to. I just wish I could see it during the day.”

“We can
tomorrow morning if we stay here tonight. My dad really won’t mind, seriously.”

Ren pulls up
to the most picturesque home I have ever seen. It’s hard to make out all the
details in the dark, but the house looks like a larger sized, two story cottage
—
it
’
s something out of a storybook. There are
even white shutters lining the windows.

“Wow, this
place looks beautiful.”

“My dad makes
sure to keep it in good shape. My mom picked it out after we all moved to
Newport. This is actually close to where they first met. She was in town doing
a shoot, back when my dad lived here. She loved it when we got a chance to live
here years later. It was a wreck when they first got it, but my mom saw the
potential and over the years they turned it into this.”

It’s so
incredible that Ren’s parents got to move into a house so close to where they
first met. “If you had me pick out the ideal beach home, I definitely think
this would be it.”

“Make sure to
tell my dad you think that, he’ll love it. Now come on, we have to be quiet
when we get into the house. The firewood and stuff are in one of the back
rooms.”

I grab the
blankets from the car and carry them to the house. Ren unlocks the door and we
quietly step inside.

We step
directly into the living area and doors covered in windows make up the back
wall. They look like they lead out to maybe a deck or the backyard. To the
right is a large kitchen, covered in white cabinets and granite counter tops.
To the left is a staircase and a small hallway.

Ren leads me to
a laundry room just past the kitchen. Opposite of the washer and dryer is a
large stack of wood.

“I’ll get all
the stuff for the fire. Can you go to the kitchen and get stuff for s’mores?
Everything should be there. The food is in the
cabinets
right next to the fridge.”

“Alright. Do
you want anything else besides stuff for s’mores?”

“Yeah, get
some beer out of the fridge.”
He smiles at me.

“Got it.”

I go into the
kitchen and start grabbing ingredients. I find graham crackers next to the
fridge, but no chocolate or marshmallows. I open a few more cabinets, but no
luck. I check above the stove, but several metal bowls fall out. I move out of
the way to avoid getting hit, but the bowls hit the floor with a loud clang.
They continue to make noise until they stop spinning on the ground.

“Shit.”
I quickly bend down to pick them up, hoping I didn’
t wake Ren
’s dad. I
stack the bowls back together. When I stand up, I’m no longer the only person
in the kitchen.

Ren’s dad is
standing across the counter from me.

“Do you want
to explain to me why you’re standing in my kitchen at four in the morning?”

“
Uhh
,”
he’s going to be pissed. If I woke my dad
up in the middle of the night, and that had happened before, I knew how he
would react. It would not be good.

“Emilie, how
many fucking times are you going to make noise while I
’
m trying to sleep?” I feel the shove to my shoulder to get my
attention. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. I didn
’
t mean
to drop the glass. It was an accident. My father grabs another drink from the
fridge before going back upstairs.

“I’m—uh, so
sorry Mr. Warren. Ren sent me in here to get things for s’mores. I was looking
in the cabinets but some things fell out. I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll put
everything away.”

I’
m stammering. I can
’t stop myself from saying sorry repeatedly. Mr. Warren’s look of
concern now looks more like curiosity. I turn around to put the things I
dropped away.

“You’re a
friend of Ren’s?”

“Yes, sir.”

He steps around
the kitchen island and next to where I’m standing. “When I heard a noise I
thought someone had broken into the house. I was a little shocked to find a
young woman standing in the kitchen. Where’s Ren?”

“He’s getting
firewood.”
I don
’t know what
else to say to him. I still can’t judge if he’s mad or not so I’ll watch for
his reactions.

Please don’t
be angry.

“I’
m Richard,
”
he reaches his hand out to me. I look at it and hesitantly shake his
hand. I can see the resemblance to his son. The green eyes, the brown hair, but
with some gray in it. His skin is much lighter than Ren’s, pale in comparison.
Also his warm introduction is much better than what I was expecting after
waking him up.

“I’m Emilie,”
I say, still nervous.

“Dad, what
are you doing up?”
Ren places a bag full of wood on the
counter and another bag right next to it.

“I heard a
noise and came downstairs. Instead of an intruder I found your friend wandering
about in the kitchen.”

Ren smirks at me.
“Sorry dad, I
can barely get a handle on this girl. She’s always trying to start some
trouble.”
He gives his dad a hug.

“It’s
alright, son. No harm done. Now what are you kids doing here so late?”

“We’re going
to the beach. Emmy got off work late, and I had the idea to come down here for
a fire.”

“You couldn’t
sleep and come in the morning?”

“Nope, that’
s no fun.
”

“To be young
and full of energy. How long do you plan on staying? The weather is supposed to
be good tomorrow, I can make us dinner or a late lunch if you plan on sticking
around. I have most of the day off.”

“Emmy sort of
wanted to head back tonight. She was worried you wouldn’t want her to stay the
night.”

Ren’s dad
turns to me, “You guys should stay here tonight. Even though the drive isn’t
far, you’re too tired to go back at the break of dawn. It’s technically Friday
now. Ren do you have class today?”

“Yeah, but
I’ll skip it.”

“I didn’t
hear that. Emilie stay here tonight. We have a guest room you can sleep in.”

He’s right.
We shouldn’t be driving this late.

“Thank you,
Mr. Warren, and again I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Please don’t
worry about it. I’m glad to have the company. Emilie it was nice meeting you,
and I’ll see you guys at a more appropriate hour.”

“Night,
Pops.”

“Don’t call
me that it makes me feel old.”

“Why do you
think I do it?”
Ren gives his dad one more hug before he
retreats back upstairs.

“I got the
stuff,”
Ren points to the bags on the counter.

I’m just
staring at the place Ren’
s dad was standing. I still can
’t believe he
wasn’t mad. I woke him up in the middle of the night and all he did was welcome
me into his home.

“Hey, Emmy,
you okay?”

“Huh?”

“You’re
acting weird. If you really don’t want to sleep here we can go back, but we
should probably do it now.”

“No, it’s not
that. It’s nothing, really. Let’s go make the fire.”

He looks
unconvinced by my answer. “Are you sure?”

I don
’t want to tell him that
his dad’s nice behavior is why I’m off. It’s not a normal reaction for a person
to be thrown off by generosity. It’s just something I’m not used to. Especially
from a parent, and especially from a dad.

“It’s
nothing. We’ll sleep here tonight. That was nice of your dad to offer.”

He stares at
me for another moment. “Alright. Did you get the stuff for s’mores?”

“I got the
graham crackers, but I couldn’t find the chocolate or marshmallows. And I also
forget the beer.”

“Huh, my dad
must have moved them. They’re probably in the pantry. And we can pass on the
beer. It’ll probably just put me to sleep.”

He opens a
door to the right of the kitchen. “Bingo. Got the goods.”

Ren pulls out
a large bag of marshmallows and has two bars of fancy looking chocolate. “The
good stuff,”
he says while handing the items to me.

I inspect
“the goods.” “Who makes s’mores with gourmet chocolate?” I ask. It seems like
such a luxury.

“I know, a
little over the top, but my dad is a chef. He takes all the food in the house
seriously. I buy the cheap stuff when I’m shopping, but when he buys the
groceries he just can’t help himself.”

I examine the
bars of chocolate. Both are covered in gold foil and the flavors are raspberry
almond, and the other is coconut salted caramel. I open the caramel one and
break off a piece.

The chocolate
is slightly salty with a crunch from the coconut. It’s smooth and delicious and
completely perfect. “I’m going to have to keep these for myself. There is no
way I’m sharing.”

“Excuse me
but this is my house, under
my
roof. A line you used earlier. The
chocolate is mine to give to you
if
I choose.
”

Oh he better
be joking. I hand him one of the bars but keep one to myself.

“Let’s go
start the fire now. Grab the wood, Emmy.”

“Grab your
own wood.”

Ren barks out
a laugh, “I did that earlier. Now come on, we need to get the fire going before
the sun comes up. We’ve been wasting time.”

The walk to
the beach only takes us a few minutes. It’s crazy how close Ren’s house is to
the water. I bet there’s an amazing view from the second floor windows. It’s
windy, but not too cold with my jacket and leggings on. I took off my shoes before
stepping onto the sand and the cool, gentle massage of walking in it is a
feeling I’ve missed. The moon has lit up the water and the crash of the waves
is the only sound surrounding us.

I would
almost go as far as to say the setting is romantic. Almost.

Ren begins
building a fire, stacking the wood into a square shape and tossing some
newspaper in the middle. It takes a few minutes, but the fire lights up casting
a bright orange glow in the middle of all this darkness.

I grab the
blankets I brought with me and lay one by the fire. Ren sits next to me and
hands me a metal skewer with two marshmallows attached.

“You know the
best way to toast a marshmallow is to hold it low to the fire, let them get
golden brown on the top, flip them over and do it again,”
Ren says to me.

“Nope,”
I push my marshmallows directly into the flame, letting them catch
on fire. I allow it to burn for a moment before blowing it out. “The best way
is to catch them on fire and blow them out. Burnt is the best way.”

“That’s so disgusting.
It just tastes like charcoal that way.”
I highly disagree.

Ren does his
overly extravagant marshmallow toasting technique and gets the graham crackers
and chocolate lined up for both of us.

“Can you put
an extra piece of chocolate on mine?”
I ask him.

“Of course.”
He gives me another piece. I put my burnt-to-a-crisp marshmallows
onto the crackers and take a bite. It’s so warm, gooey and chocolatey, with
that perfect bit of burnt taste. Ren can call it disgusting; I’ll call it
delicious.

The crashing
sounds of the ocean and the crackle of the fire are soothing. I’m enjoying
sitting here next to Ren. It feels comfortable.

“I wish the
water was warm enough to swim in,”
I tell Ren.

“That would be
nice. I haven’t swam in the ocean for a long time. It’s been a few years I
think.”

“Why not?
You’re probably here all the time over the summer.”

Ren shakes
his head back and forth. “
I don
’t know. I guess I just haven’t gotten
around to it. I’m at the beach a lot, but I don’t get in the water. You like
swimming though?”

I nod. “
I do. It
’s one of my
favorite things. Maybe it has to do with the fact that my last name is Waters.”

Ren laughs.
“Very fitting. Well then, we’ll definitely have to come back and get in the
water.”

I like the
thought of Ren wanting to come back here with me, but I don’t want to ponder on
it too long. We’re friends, that’s what I determined in the beginning.

We continue
to enjoy the fire, eating more s’mores until the chocolate runs out. It gets
colder and we share the second blanket I brought. Ren suggests laying back and
watching the stars. I don’t say anything when he chooses to place an arm behind
my head. The comforting touch is new, but I welcome it.