Sneak Peek

The young couple could have done anything while staying at her celebrity aunt’s beach house. But because they were young and because they were a couple, they decided to do it in every room. Because the house had so many rooms and because doing it that much was not enjoyable, verging on painful, they decided to cut their losses and go out to dinner. Because the celebrity aunt had left an envelope for them with $300 cash and a note that said, “Not for bills or socks,” they decided to go to an upscale Italian restaurant and order drinks and appetizers, entrees and desserts, and more drinks. And because they were not used to eating such rich food and drinking such strong drinks, they couldn’t finish most of their food. Because she had been raised to never waste anything because there were starving kids in Africa, and because he agreed there was no harm in taking the food back even though the celebrity aunt had fully stocked the pantry and freezer, they boxed up the food and carried it out of the restaurant. Because they were so full and tipsy, they decided they needed a walk, so they went down to the boardwalk where instead of walking—too full and tipsy—they sat down to rest.

On the boardwalk, they were talking about their friends, who they thought would be most likely to get married first, who would go off the grid, who would turn into a rich asshole, when they were approached by a middle-aged man who didn’t look well. He wore a hoodie and a winter jacket, despite the fact it was 70 degrees, and he stood in front of the young couple, a little too close, smacking his lips, his eyes turned up and shooting around the sky. Because in college she once had had a man follow her an entire mile from the train to her dorm where he pulled down his pants and yelled obscenities at her, she wanted to pop up and head back into town. Because he had a beloved cousin, who this man reminded him of, who was not ok but who had never harmed anyone—he didn’t think—he wanted to stay put and see if he could help someone in need, or at least avoid offending him. Her survival instincts kicking in, she popped up and said I’m going, and then she went, not waiting for him to make up his mind. He missed his cousin, hadn’t seen him at a family gathering in a decade, but missed sitting next to him, hearing his stories about road trips and old girlfriends, his birthday presents from the dollar store, so he didn’t follow her.

An hour or so later, they both found their way back to the celebrity aunt’s beach house. Because neither of them were drawn to confrontation and because their mild annoyance at each other had worn off, neither mentioned what had happened on the boardwalk. Instead, they toured the celebrity aunt’s beach house looking for the most exciting room to do it in. When it came to it, she didn’t feel comfortable going into the master bedroom, but he reasoned it wasn’t all that private because it was only one of her master bedrooms in one of her three houses. His reasoning made some sense, so she allowed it and in they went. Off the master bedroom, there was a walk-in closet and off the walk-in closet there was another walk-in closet where they found stacks of boxes. He wanted to take a peek into one box. He pointed out that one had already been ever-so-slightly opened. But this is where she drew the line, so they retreated into the first walk-in closet where they tried to do it, but neither he nor she could make it work.

She woke up early in the morning, her stomach gnawing at her, that hungover hunger where she wanted something fried and greasy, but also wasn’t sure that the thing she wanted wouldn’t make her throw-up. Then she remembered the leftovers: homemade pasta with a short rib ragu sauce, fried calamari, and half a churro. She opened the fridge, but no sign of last night’s dinner. She imagined him being too interested in seeking thrills from the random man on the boardwalk to have remembered to take home the leftovers. Now she was more than mildly annoyed. She was only twenty-five. There was no reason she had to stay with him. This could be the end; they were heading back to their apartments in the city later that day. She’d heard of friends breaking it off with people over more insignificant things—one who ate too many bananas, one who let their fingernails grow too long, and her favorite was the one who patted backs too hard when hugging.

When he woke up, she wasn’t in bed. He went downstairs to the kitchen and open-concept living-dining area, then went out on the deck, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He figured she’d gone for a walk. He checked his phone, no message. Now he was feeling annoyed. It was one thing to leave him because she didn’t want to be in the presence of a strange man, but to wake up to an empty house felt a little cold if not passive aggressive. He started to feel hungry. He didn’t regret leaving the leftovers with the man on the boardwalk, but he did wish he had them. He opened the pantry and found a box of Wheat Thins. It would do.

A few handfuls of Wheat Thins later, he found himself exploring the house. What else did he have to do? He walked around noting the rooms they had done it in, which to his disappointment didn’t make him feel any sort of accomplishment. These were just facts, not accolades. When he got to the master bedroom, he decided to go in, and when he got to the walk-in closet he decided to go in, and when he got to the walk-in closet off the walk-in closet, he decided to go in. It was in the walk-in closet off the walk-in closet where he found her sitting with her legs crossed and her hands clasped behind her back, staring at the boxes. He said good morning sunshine and she said good morning sleepyhead and then because the moment allowed them to release something, perhaps something bigger and outside of the two of them, they both laughed, which nearly led to doing it, but because her stomach rumbled she suggested they go grab some brunch and because he wasn’t sure doing it was really what he wanted, he mentioned he noticed a diner on his walk home last night. Because the whole point of the trip to the celebrity aunt’s beach house was to get a sneak peek of a possible future, but because to see the future one had to understand the past, they went to the diner and ate omelets and drank cup after cup of coffee while taking turns telling each other stories until they got to the ones they needed to know.