[nonfiction] Acquaintances

by Samantha Jacobs, '22

I knew she was going to get there before I even started driving. Nicole was always late to events or gatherings when I was younger. In fact, my family used to always make a point of noticing and joking about how Nicole was always the late one, and I would jump on the bandwagon with them. Now, I always seem to be the one that’s late. Nicole was always the smarter sibling out of the rest of us. She prided herself in her perfection of grades and graduating with a four point whatever. I was average, nothing special; but I guess you could say I was the better looking out of the siblings.

Crap, should I stop for coffee? I noticed Nicole already called me three times, so I might as well, considering I’m already going to be half an hour late. How the hell does she get out of the house so quickly with two kids? I mean honestly, don’t most moms joke about how they are never on time with kids? I stopped at the closest Dunks I could find. I always order the same thing every time: a medium iced cold brew with regular cream and sugar. I can’t stand when people get, like, extra cream and sugar with their coffee. It’s almost as if they are begging for health problems in their thirties wondering why they're overweight and suddenly feel like shit every day.

When I pull up at the beach parking lot area, I spot her white Kia. I always laugh to myself about her car because it screams “I have kids, but I wouldn't drive a minivan.” She’s sitting in the car looking at her phone as if it’s important. I know she has the AC blasting because she looks comfortable. My AC broke in my car because it’s a piece of crap. I couldn’t wait to get out, but I was waiting for her to stare back at me as I pulled up next to her.

Doesn't she realize I have been calling her? It’s like she has no idea that I know she has a phone, and probably uses it when she drives. I look over, and she's smiling at me. Maybe she didn't even realize she was that late? I opened the car door, and My daughters immediately jumped out of their car seats.

“Aunty Lyd!” they screamed.

Lydia looked a little tired, but if I know anything, I know she definitely stopped for coffee, took two sips, and is more than likely going to leave it in her car. I headed to the back of the car and started getting the umbrella and towels out. The girls are all over her, which gives me a moment to unpack and get the bags for the beach. I love going to the beach, but I hate leaving when everything is covered with sand. Lydia came over and grabbed a bag off my shoulder. Helpful for once. We made our way through the parking lot carefully. I can’t wait to take my shoes off and dig my feet in the sand. Sometimes the beach makes me feel like everything is easy. It's hard not to enjoy it. I get really nervous about the girls going near the water though. Sometimes I feel like they are going to get kidnapped or washed out into sea, and drown. “If the girls go down to the water, make sure they don't go past their knees, okay? I don’t want them getting swept out.” She looks at me reassuringly and nods. I feel like she doesn’t get that it’s dangerous.

“Don't worry, I’ll make sure I'm holding their hands.” Jesus, does she think I'm just going to let them wander around? I’ve been watching my nieces since I was, like, twelve years old. Nicole is a lot older than me; we are twelve years apart. I remember when Nicole would take me and our other younger sister out, and she was always asked if she was our mom. My parents had us all spaced apart. My brother is older than me by about Nine years too.

We finally put our stuff down on the sand, and the girls immediately went running down by the water. Of course, Nicole ran after them screaming, “WAIT! You need sunblock on!” I started laying out the towels and putting the umbrella up. Jesus, why the hell couldn’t she get an easy umbrella to manage? Why do I feel the need to have an assembly manual for this thing?

I took my sandals off, and let my toes stretch out into the sand. It felt the way it always felt. Relaxing. I sat down under the umbrella watching the girls ruffle through the beach toys. “How were your finals for school? I've been so busy and I forgot to ask.” Lydia stared over at me, grabbing her water. “ Really well. I did great,” she smiled.

It's hard talking to her sometimes. It's like making small talk with an acquaintance, with the awkwardness of asking your boss for vacation days. She always asks me about school when she has nothing else to talk about. I started playing sandcastles with the girls because the awkward vibe in the air left me feeling uneasy. I try really hard, but sometimes I feel like we only hangout to make our presence known to each other. It’s as if we are both trying too hard to maintain a relationship that really isn’t there. We get together once in a while to hold out for the world that we are sisters, and that we have not disappeared from each other's lives.

Samantha Jacobs is majoring in Criminal Justice.

Samantha Flaherty edited this story.