“Of course,” he laughed.
“Hey, when in Rome. That’s an exclusive flavor. You can’t get it everywhere.”
“Yes, Chef.” He held his hands up in surrender. Then Beckett paid for our treats, turning down my offer to cover it, and double fisted the cone and the smaller cup as we left the shop. “Wanna walk on the beach with this?”
“Sure,” I replied. “But first, taste this one.” I stood in front of him, scooped out a spoonful of the Rum Tres Leches ice cream, and fed it to him since he had no available hands with which to feed himself. He closed his eyes. “Mmm.” He nodded. “That’s really good.”
“Right?” I asked. “I’m glad you like it.” I fed him another bite, then took a bite myself, and another. We emptied the kiddie cup in less than ten alternating bites and then were able to focus on our main course ice cream orders while we strolled down to the beach behind the hotel.
We kicked off our flip-flops in the sand by the jetty and began to walk, the water lapping at our toes, teasing us with its warmth.
“So, tell me about your novel. I know you said it’s a family drama,” I said.
Beckett took a slurp of his ice cream cone. “The protagonist is an only child whose parents are going through a divorce.”
“Okay. Is he a child still?”
“No. Early twenties. But it’s told mostly in flashbacks.”
“Got it.”
“Living at home?”
“Mm hmm. The dad’s a real douchebag.”
“The whole time?”
“No. Not when the narrator was little. It happens later, which really does a number on the kid. His name’s Mark, by the way.”
“The kid or the dad?”
“The kid. The dad’s name is Ryan.”
“Go on.”
“So, Mark and his dad are pretty close. Like, he goes to all his baseball games and all that. But once Mark hits high school, his dad becomes very busy all of a sudden. Doesn’t have a new job or anything. Just isn’t around as much anymore.”
I stayed quiet, listening while eating my ice cream.
“Mark’s mom is great, you know? Like, a sweet, nice lady who bakes cupcakes for PTA bake sales and whatnot. Kind of like your mom, except maybe not as funny or artistic. She’s an accountant, so kind of boring, but still a really good person, you know?”
I nodded.
“Anyway, long story short, Mark finds out that his dad is cheating on his mom. He doesn’t know what to do with the information because he doesn’t want to hurt his mother. So he decides to take matters into his own hands.”
“Really? How?” I asked.
“Well, he hatches this plan where he’s going to confront the dad and give him an ultimatum to, like, fix everything—or else he’ll tell his mom. Only, it doesn’t work. The dad just disappears. And the mom is, like, a mess because of it. All because of Mark.” He licked his ice cream. “So, obviously, Mark sets out to find him. Like, what the fuck, right? Only, not too much time passes, and it turns out the dad’s dead.”
“Wow. For real?”
“Yeah. Anyway, that’s about where I’m up to. Of course, there’s still a ton of work to do.”
“Interesting. Feels a little like a psychological thriller. Well, I guess, depending on how crazy it gets from there.” I put a spoonful of ice cream in my mouth. A school of invisible fish wove around our ankles, kissing our feet beneath the black surface of the water. “Is all of that based on your real life?”
Beckett looked into the distance, past me. “Some of it. Well, most, I suppose. Which is why I’m struggling. My dad’s not dead, though. At least, not that I know of. He’s just gone.” He swallowed. “It would actually probably be better if hewasdead, if I’m being honest.”
“Wow. I’m really sorry to hear that, Beckett. It definitely sounds like he did a number on you.”
