Dennis
IgrabthenewT-shirt in pale teal that reads ‘Team Cannon Cleanup Crew’ off the fold-out table when Mike, Wes, Aaron, and I arrive at the beach for the mid-summer cleanup, right after the Fourth of July. There’s one at the beginning of the tourist season, one in the middle, and one after peak season.
Aaron’s been back for three weeks, and it’s been nice reconnecting with him. We’ve both grown and changed. It’s also a nice distraction from the shit that’s been clogging my head.
Every year, the four of us join the Cannon Beach community in keeping our beach clean. There are too many tourists who just leave their trash behind, but there’s also the problem of trash being washed up on shore. There’s little we can do about microplastics, but we can at least clean up the big stuff.
Mike grabs a T-shirt and removes his white one, revealing inches of tanned skin. I can’t take my eyes off his abs for the life of me. He doesn’t have the kind of build you get from working out daily. He’s strong anddefined, but it happened naturally for him after years of working in landscaping. There’s also a dusting of chest hair that I…
I turn away when he starts to put on his new T-shirt. I can’t go there. It’s fucking time to stop pining over Michael Tanner, boyhood crush. I’m a man now. It’s time to move on from those thoughts.
After plastering a fake smile on my face, turning my baseball hat backward, and sliding on a pair of sunglasses, I say, “Ready? Let’s get our beach cleaned up.”
Mike and Aaron are sent to one zone, and Wes and I are sent to another. Once we finish in our zone, the program will put us in a different one.
There are around thirty people here today, of varying ages, from children to grandparents, so we should make some great progress. That’s one thing I love about small towns. The community. It’s close-knit, and everyone cares about each other. If one person falls on hard times, the town steps in to help. We need more of that in this world.
We’ve only been out here for an hour, and already we’re sweating profusely. It’s humid, too, which doesn’t help.
“I can’t believe it’s ninety degrees today. Like, what the hell? Yesterday was sixty-eight,” I grouse as I wipe my face with the bandana I brought for this very reason.
“No shit. I can’t imagine doing cross-country in this heat all the fucking time.”
I grunt in acknowledgement.
Before going back at it, I remove my shirt and tuck it into the waistband of my basketball shorts. Fuck it. It’s too hot. I’m not used to it.
“It’ll be back down in the seventies tomorrow.”
“Ugh,” I sigh, taking a swig of water. “I wish the weather would make up its mind.”
Wesley doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, watching me with a smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“So, how are you and Mike?”
I shrug. “Fine, as always.” I know when Wes is about to dig, and this is one of those times.
“You know what I mean. Have you thought about trying again?”
“Trying what?”
He huffs and he’s no doubt rolling his eyes, but I can’t tell behind his sunglasses. “God, you weren’t always this dense… or difficult. I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about, smartass.”
I use the trash picker to lift an old soda can half-buried in the sand. “Why can’t people just dump their shit in the recycling bins? I mean, they’re stationed all over the place.”
“Dude, you’re deflecting.”
“Beach trash is serious business.”
“Duuuude…”
I sigh and put the can into the recycling bucket. “Mike doesn’t want me like that. Never has. He likes and dates women, not pining guys who’ve had a crush on him for insanely too long.”
Wes shakes his head and picks up several cigarette butts, dumping them into the trash bag. “You’re fucking blind, man.”
“What do you mean?”
