“No. I probably would have laughed at what happened.”
She evaluated my answer, as if wondering whether to believe me. Finally, she drew a long breath. “I’m glad you joined, then. I really needed that bag.”
“Good.”
“What else?”
“What else what?”
“What else can you tell me about yourself?”
“I don’t know. What do you want to know?”
“Tell me something no one else knows about you.”
I considered the question. “I can tell you how many ten-dollar Indians with a rolled edge were minted in 1907.”
“How many?”
“Forty-two. They were never intended for the public. Some men at the mint made them for themselves and some friends.”
“You like coins?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time.”
I hesitated while Savannah reached for her bag. “Hold on,” she said, rummaging through it. She pulled out a tube of Coppertone. “You can tell me after you put some lotion on my back. I feel like I’m getting burned.”
“Oh, I can, huh?”
She winked. “It’s part of the deal.”
I applied the lotion to her back and shoulders and probably went a bit overboard, but I convinced myself that she was turning pink and that having a sunburn of any sort would make her work the next day miserable. After that, I spent the next few minutes telling her about my grandfather and dad, about the coin shows and good old Eliasberg. What I didn’t do was specifically answer her question, for the simple reason that I wasn’t quite sure what the answer was. When I finished she turned to me.
“And your father still collects coins?”
“All the time. At least, I think so. We don’t talk about coins anymore.”
“Why not?”
I told her that story, too. Don’t ask me why. I knew I should have been putting my best foot forward and tossing out crap to impress her, but with Savannah that wasn’t possible. For whatever reason, she made me want to tell the truth, even though I barely knew her. When I finished she was wearing a curious expression.
“Yeah, I was a jerk,” I offered, knowing there were other, probably more accurate words to describe me back then, all of which were profane enough to offend her.
“It sounds like it,” she said, “but that’s not what I was thinking. I was trying to imagine you back then, because you seem nothing like that person now.”
What could I say that wouldn’t sound bogus, even if it was true? Unsure, I opted for Dad’s approach and said nothing.
“What’s your dad like?”
I gave her a quick recap. As I spoke, she scooped sand and let it trail through her fingers, as if concentrating on my choice of words. In the end, surprising myself again, I admitted that we were almost strangers.
“You are,” she said, using that nonjudgmental, matter-of-fact tone. “You’ve been gone for a couple of years, and even you admit that you’ve changed. How could he know you?”
I sat up. The beach was packed; it was the time of day when everyone who planned to come was already here, and no one was quite ready to leave. Randy and Brad were playing Frisbee by the water’s edge, running and shouting. A few others wandered over to join them.
“I know,” I said. “But it’s not just that. We’ve always been strangers. I mean, it’s just so hard to talk to him.”
As soon as I said it, I realized she was the first person I’d ever admitted it to. Strange. But then, most of what I was saying to her sounded strange.
“Most people our age say that about their parents.”
Maybe, I thought. But this was different. It wasn’t a generational difference, it was the fact that for my dad, normal chitchat was all but impossible, unless it dealt with coins. I said nothing more, however, and Savannah smoothed the sand in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “I’d like to meet him.”
I turned toward her. “Yeah?”
“He sounds interesting. I’ve always loved people who have this… passion for life.”
“It’s a passion for coins, not life,” I corrected her.
“It’s the same thing. Passion is passion. It’s the excitement between the tedious spaces, and it doesn’t matter where it’s directed.” She shuffled her feet in the sand. “Well, most of the time, anyway. I’m not talking vices here.”
“Like you and caffeine.”
She smiled, flashing the small gap between her two front teeth. “Exactly. It can be coins or sports or politics or horses or music or faith… the saddest people I’ve ever met in life are the ones who don’t care deeply about anything at all. Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand, and without them, any happiness is only temporary, because there’s nothing to make it last. I’d love to hear your dad talk about coins, because that’s when you see a person at his best, and I’ve found that someone else’s happiness is usually infectious.”
I was struck by her words. Despite Tim’s opinion that she was naive, she seemed far more mature than most people our age. Then again, considering the way she looked in her bikini, she probably could have recited the phone book and I would have been impressed.
Savannah sat up beside me, and her gaze followed mine. The game of Frisbee was in full swing; as Brad zipped the disk, a couple of others went running for it. They both dove for it simultaneously, splashing in the shallows as their heads collided. The one in red shorts came up empty, swearing and holding his head, his shorts covered in sand. The others laughed, and I found myself smiling and wincing simultaneously.
“Did you see that?” I asked.
“Hold on,” she said instead. “I’ll be right back.” She trotted over to red shorts. He saw her approaching and froze, as did the guy next to him. Savannah, I realized, had pretty much the same effect on every guy, not just me. I could see her talking and smiling, turning that earnest gaze on the guy, who nodded as she spoke, looking like a chastised adolescent. She returned to my side and sat again. I didn’t ask, knowing it wasn’t my business, but I knew I was telegraphing my curiosity.
“Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I asked him to keep his language in check because of all the families out here,” she explained. “There are lots of little kids around. He said he would.”
I should have guessed. “Did you suggest he use ‘Holy cow’ or ‘Geez’ instead?”
She squinted at me mischievously. “You liked those expressions, didn’t you.”
“I’m thinking of passing them on to my squad. They’ll add to our intimidation factor when we’re busting down doors and launching RPGs.”
She giggled. “Definitely scarier than swearing, even if I don’t know what an RPG is.”
“Rocket-propelled grenade.” Despite myself, I liked her more with every passing minute. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I don’t have any plans. Well, except for the meeting. Why? Did you want to bring me to meet your father?”
“No. Well, not tonight, anyway. Later. Tonight, I wanted to show you around Wilmington.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’ll have you back whenever you want. I know you’ve got to work tomorrow, but there’s this great place that I want to show you.”
“What kind of place?”
“A local place. Specializes in seafood. But it’s more of an experience.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees. “I usually don’t date strangers,” she finally said, “and we only met yesterday. You think I can trust you?”
“I wouldn’t,” I said.
She laughed. “Well, in that case, I suppose I can make an exception.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m a sucker for honest guys with crew cuts. What time?”
Four
I was home by five, and though I didn’t feel sunburned—that Southern European skin again—the burn was obvious when I showered. The water stung as it ricocheted off my chest and shoulders, and my face made me feel as if I were running a low fever. Afterward, I shaved for the first time since I’d been home and dressed in a clean pair of shorts and one of the few relatively nice button-down shirts I owned, light blue. Lucy had bought it for me and swore the color was perfect for me. I rolled up the sleeves and left the shirt untucked, then rummaged through my closet for an ancient pair of sandals.