When the Boogie Hits You

Conan and Lance headed to the sea. Large amalgams of algae were scattered around the shore. Like a burnt version of the meatballs his grandma used to make. Conan threw one at Lance in the back of his head. 

"You dumb shit,"  shouted Lance. Conan laughed and flicked him off.

Not many people remained. The wind was strong, the waves were rising and there was little time to get accustomed to the cold water. Conan dunked his head. 

He swam back towards Lance, who stared at the horizon. "Feel better?"

Conan sighed. "Much. The girls kept touching my sunburns and I couldn't stop them."

"Oh yeah, poor you. Still. No matter how many times I see it, I'm always impressed. I don't get it."

"I just like girls."

"We all like girls, Bromeo. It doesn't mean they like you back." He pauses. "Well they like you back. Not me."

"Don't say that. They would, if you cared enough to try. And what I meant earlier was that I enjoy being in their company." He paused. "They can be great to talk with. About anything. And they got your back. So if something happens that's cool, but I'm very happy even without it."

Lance laughed "Oh well how big of you, Sir. That's because you never loved a girl enough to care." 

That hurt, but Conan laughed it off. "Fair."

"What about the girl with the sunglasses," asked Lance.

"Who? Lara? No chance. I went for you. I just wanted to finish my book at home."

Lance exhaled. "You're so boring that I still can't fathom why you're a babe magnet."

Conan splashed some water at Lance and they laughed.

The truth, Conan was just not in the mood. He was thinking about his siblings. When his brother Rian had called about the house, Conan picked up instantly. After all, a month had passed since they last talked. He was still with his girlfriend, but God knows what 'girlfriend' even meant to him. Rian was turning thirty-five, and Conan had abandoned the idea of being an uncle. 

There was always his sister, Orla. She was 30, and had been engaged for three years. She kept on delaying. Apparently there were always too many things to plan. Exhausting. They had been together since her early twenties. Once they got together, the rare times when she came to visit them in Lyon became rarer still. Nothing wrong with the guy, mind you. But Conan hated him.  

"Are you thinking about Paula? Don't," said Lance.

"I'm not. Truly. I'm glad she ended it."  The sun was still bright, but large clouds were moving fast along the coast. And when the sun disappeared, he suddenly felt terribly cold. "It's ok. I just don't have enough time or energy to give to a relationship. I can't half-ass it. So for now I'll just stay by myself. Be your wingman. Yeah?"

"Are you bluffing?"

"No." Conan waited. "Are you done peeing or what?"

"No," Lance hammered. "Because you started going deep and shit and it blocked my flow."

"I have that strong an effect on you?"

"Will you give me some space for fuck sake?"

Conan swam a few strokes away. He stood up, and noticed a ball of brown algae floating. He immediately knew he would hit Lance with it. 

He reached for it with an open palm. They made contact. 

But the algae disintegrated. 

Brown dust expanded.

Conan turned to ice. He shouted, and it carried above the waves. Lance swam to him, and Conan raised his hands. "Don't come closer!" 

"What happened," he repeated, and horror overcame him. That brown sugar was spreading in the waves. "Oh no, no, no."

"It literally disintegrated in my hand," Conan said. Lance was hysterical. So lost in the moment, he forgot what was floating towards him. Conan was already swimming away. "Oh God! Oh God why?" He closed his eyes. "I don't feel so good." He burped. "Oh God."

"If you vomit on top of this crap, then I'm outta here!"  said Lance and headed fast for their towels. First, to get away from the radioactive dump Conan simmered in.  And more importantly, so he could tell the guys right away. 

Conan hurried far. The waves rose and washed the stain away from sight.  He dunked a few times, worried about potential residues. He could see the guys. They must have been laughing. He thought today had been very weird. Almost a pain. Conan worried about what other cataclysms would befall him. 

The answer came right away on the horizon. Small at first. Conan squinted.

An ice-cream. An ice-cream floatie. It flew across the sea. Right in his direction. He then saw the figure of a man - a dad - who ran after it. 

 The dad knew, just like Conan, that he would never make it in time. 

Conan lunged into the waves. Estimated the place of collision. But the thing seemed alive. It flew fast, like a pink torpedo and Conan braced for impact. His arms opened.  Ready.

They slammed together. He grabbed it. The sticky, wet plastic burned against his red skin. 

Once he had a good grip on the flying object, he headed for the beach. The man slowed down, relieved. Conan reached him.

He was a Japanese man, still in good shape with a bald head. His own way of swaying about and his smile made him a jovial sort of fellow. The man was breathing heavily. "Ah! Thank you very much young man," he said. He reached for Conan's hand, and shook it.  

"I'm very happy I could help,"  Conan said, and gave him the floatie. The wind animated it like some panicked fish caught in a net. 

"I knew it was hopeless but I couldn't stop running. My son loves this boogie."

Conan computes. "Oh! You call this a boogie? I call it a floatie." They laughed. "Well, your son is very lucky. Not all Dads would run after a boogie. Especially if it was a lost cause." 

"It was a lost cause," the dad said. "But then you showed up," he joked.

Conan laughed. "I guess, yeah." 

Once they had exchanged goodbyes, the man left. 

Conan was about to head off when he realised a girl was jogging towards the bald man. His daughter, he guessed by her hair. Like wild strokes of ink, they flew frantically around her. Taller than her dad. Beautiful. 

The two had a short discussion and he suddenly pointed at Conan. He stood there, still confused. The girl looked at Conan. Yes. Beautiful. Her eyes got big. 

She smiled. 

And then she became the sun. And she was so bright it made him feel like he was the only person on earth. Blessed. Like if she saw through him. Read his mind. 

His heart was beating fast. Could she feel it too?

They were too far to talk. But she seemed eager, and waved. Conan waved back with energy.  And when she was forced to turn around, her eyes held on to his for as long as she humanely could. 

And then, she was walking away. Ice-cream boogie safely tucked under her arm.

He stood there. Struck, and realised he was smiling. His heart tightened, and his throat filled with unsaid things. He should have ran to her. Asked for her number.  

She took another step. And another. And the more he thought about it, the more time passed, and the more it hurt. 

And as she walked, Conan grew small.

But her head turned, and their eyes met again. 

Again.

He could breathe again. 

Now. 

He took a step.

And something landed on his burnt shoulder.

"What are you doing," Lara said, her arms tangled around his. "We're waiting for you."

He looked back at the girl with the boogie.

Her back was already turned, ink floating in the wind. Like nothing had ever happened.

"Conan," said Lara.

She did not look back again. Why would she?

What was her smile again?

Lara shook his arm. "Conan."

And in the time his mind hesitated, she was already far off. He could not run to her now. And she must have seen Lara hanging from his arm. Anyway, it's fine. He could not be in a relationship right now.

So why was he frustrated? 

"Who were they," she asked him.

"Just people I met."

Why? He did not know why. Why this girl? Why her smile? 

Useless.

"What was the girl's name," she asked, not satisfied with his answer.

He clenched his hand. The burns of the plastic floatie still itched.

"I don't know."