“I’m serious,” she insists, looking at me for confirmation. “I think that’s what you do.”
I lose it and bend over laughing, trying and failing to breathe. She’s completely serious when she offers to pee on her friend. She’s ready to help. And damn, if that’s not a good friend, I don’t know what is. But she’s absolutely not peeing on him. Contrary to what people believe, that doesn’t actually work.
“Oh, my God,” Wilby says. “You were serious!”
“I just want to help you,” she says and adds lamely. “I’m a helper.”
Wilby yelps and dives behind me, clutching his foot. “Don’t let her pee on me, Cal. I’m begging you. I draw the line. You don’t pee on your best friend and assistant!”
I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts, and my whole body is practically shaking so hard I can barely get the words out. “I won’t let her pee on you, Wilby.”
“Thank you,” he says breathless, looking relieved.
“She’s not peeing on you,” I finally manage. “You’ll be fine. It’s a mild sting, but we can stop by the first aid station. This happens often at the beach. Just part of beachside living.”
Wilby sniffs. “I can’t believe you tried to pee on me.”
“I didn’t try. I just offered,” Silvie huffs. “I was just trying to save you. That’s what friends do.”
“I appreciate the effort, just keep your pee away,” Wilby cries in disgust.
I help him rinse his foot and promise he won’t get peed on or lose a limb. Eventually, his panic fades. “Well, look at it this way. It was a memorable first surfing experience.”
“It definitely was a memory, I’ll be telling this lore forever,” he says.
We get Wilby cleaned up, and the first-aid helper laughs at the pee and says it’s from aFriendsepisode and not accurate at all. Wilby is still horrified, and Silvie looks relieved she didn’t have to do it.
She teases him by saying, “You’re ungrateful for my love and devotion for you.”
I wipe my face with a towel, still grinning. “You guys want to get breakfast?”
Wilby nods emphatically. “Yes, I’ll even buy. I’m not touching the water ever again. I’m a land type of fella.”
Silvie chuckles, and I smile at her. Yeah, I like Silvie. And Wilby.
By the time we get semi-cleaned up and head to Iggy’s Grill, I’m starving.
“I’m so hungry,” Wilby says as he walks like a man who has been victimized by a jellyfish and the ocean now personally offends him.
“I was trying to save you.” Silvie grins.
“You were trying to traumatize me,” Wilby says. “There’s a difference.”
“Can I give you a hug?” Silvie offers.
“No.”
“Please?”
Wilby looks as if he’s considering it, then gives her a hug and holds her tight.
I’m slightly jealous of their connection. I want to hug Silvie again.
“Why are you hugging me like that?” Silvie mutters.
“I’m trying to measure you, so I know how big of a hole to dig if I have to bury you if you ever try to pee on me again,” Wilby says.
I choke on a laugh. “Dude, you are funny.”
