On The Rocks

I tried my damnedest to decline Casey’s invitation, but she pulled out the big guns. She looked at me with her big eyes moistened with tears and told me she was nervous about spending the day with Brody. She’s been having a hard time connecting with him, and she felt that with me by her side, she would be more comfortable.

It was a load of horseshit, in my opinion, because Casey has confidence in spades. She’s so damned bubbly that you can’t help but be happy around her. If anyone can wear Brody down and break him out of his shell, it’s her. Regardless, when she flashed those glistening baby blues at me, I hung my head low in defeat and went to change into my bathing suit.

We make it to the cape in good time. She immediately recognizes Hunter’s jeep, pulling in behind it. We unload our bags, cooler, and beach chairs, hauling them out across the dunes. There are several surfers in the water—no telling which ones are Hunter and Brody—so we just find an empty spot and make camp.

The beach is getting crowded, this part of the North Carolina coast being one of the best surf spots in the east. This is because the continental shelf ends in a steep drop-off, creating powerful sets with wide beach breaks. I never quite understood what that really meant but I remember Hunter telling me that once when we were younger. It’s where we always hung out growing up, coming out to cheer on Hunter and Brody when they surfed in amateur competitions. Yes, Brody surfed as well, but he never had the competitive spirit that Hunter did. Brody was the brainiac in the Markham family, and was getting ready to start his second year of medical school at Duke when he was arrested. The thought of everything Brody lost because of one stupid and tragic mistake makes me so sad. I wonder how you ever recover a broken spirit from a fall that high?

I slather on some high SPF oil and slip my sunglasses on. Casey reaches into the cooler and hands me a beer that, even though it’s only 10:30 AM, I gladly accept. It’s just a thing… beach and beer.

Scanning the water more closely, I finally recognize Hunter. It’s not that I can necessarily make out the details, but I recognize his talent as clear as day. There are plenty of great surfers along the Hatteras coast, but Hunter Markham is in a different league. He was the number two-ranked surfer in the world just months ago, and he stands out. In fact, a lot of people walking up and down the beach stop to watch him and, before long, he’s drawn quite a crowd.

I even hear a pair of girls talk about him when they walk by us.

“I heard that was Hunter Markham out there,” one of them remarks

The other squeals with excitement and says, “Oh. My. God. I want to give him my phone number.”

The other girl jumps up and down, also squealing with equal delight. “Screw that. I want to give him my babies.”

Casey apparently hears that conversation too and snorts out loud. I turn to look at her and start giggling. As the girls make their way closer to the water to watch Hunter, I say, “Your brother is a real stud.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t I know it? He’s left a trail of broken hearts all over the world, I’m betting.”

I have to, no doubt, agree with that, thinking, Yeah, starting right here in the Outer Banks with me.

I watch Hunter for a bit more, even recognizing Brody out there. He and Hunter sit side by side on their boards, bobbing in the water while they wait for the next set to roll in. Sometimes they turn their heads toward each other, clearly talking about something. I hope that they’re having a good time together. As identical twins, they shared an unbelievably close bond before Brody was sent away. I know it’s taken quite a hit over the last few years.

Finally, the heat from the sun and the beer I drank starts to make me drowsy, so I lay my chair down flat, close my eyes, and let the warmth and sounds of the waves lull me to sleep.