Opening her door, she reached for both her camera and the carrier straps for the boards, consciously trying not to stare at him. She laid out the carrier straps, then hooked them to the boards, knowing Colin was watching her and liking the way it made her feel. When she was finished, he grabbed his backpack and both boards. Maria picked up the towels and cooler as they started toward the point. “What’s in the cooler, by the way?” she asked.
“Snacks, basically. Fruit, some nuts, a couple bottles of water.”
“Healthy,” she commented.
“I’m pretty strict about what I eat.”
“And the backpack?”
“A Frisbee, a Hacky Sack, and sunscreen. If we hit the beach or whatever.”
“I’m not very good at Frisbee. And just so you know, I’ve never touched a Hacky Sack in my life.”
“Then we’ll both be trying something new today.”
On the beach, the sand glowed almost white in the sunlight. Aside from a man tossing a ball to his golden retriever in the waves, the beach at this end of the island was deserted. Maria raised the cooler in the direction of the inlet. “That’s Masonboro Island,” she said.
“Until you mentioned it last night, I’d never heard of it.”
“It’s rustic. There are no roads or picnic areas. In the summers, a lot of boaters go there, but lately, I’ve had the place to myself. It’s quiet and beautiful, and it’s a great way to kick off my week, especially one like this one. My partner has a trial later this week, and I’ll probably be working late every night to make sure he has everything he needs. I’ll head in earlier than usual, too.”
“That’s a lot of hours.”
“Gotta get ahead, you know,” she cracked.
“Why?”
“If I don’t do my job, I’ll get fired.”
“I wasn’t asking about doing your job well. I understand that. I was just wondering why it’s important to you to get ahead.”
Maria frowned, realizing that he was the first person who’d ever asked her the question and she was at a loss. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “I guess I’m just wired that way. Either that, or it was all my parents’ fault. Isn’t that what people say in therapy?”
“Sometimes. And sometimes it’s even true.”
“Don’t you want to get ahead?”
“I’m not sure what getting ahead even means,” he said. “Bigger house? Better cars? More exotic vacations? My parents have all those things, but I don’t get the sense that either of them is really happy. There’s always something more out there, but where does it end? I don’t want to live like that.”
“How do you want to live?”
“I want balance. Work is important because I have to support myself, but so are friends, health, rest. Having the time to do things that I enjoy, and sometimes doing nothing at all.”
The cooler thumped gently against her leg. “That’s very… sensible.”
“Okay.”
She smiled. I could have predicted he was going to say that. “You’re right, of course. Balance is important, but I’ve always liked the feeling of succeeding at something difficult, whether it was grades when I was a little girl or a well-written brief now. Setting goals and then reaching them makes me feel like I’m not just going through the motions of life. And in the end, if I do it well enough, other people notice, and I get rewarded. I like that, too.”
“That makes sense.”
“But not for you?”
“We’re different.”
“Don’t you set goals, too? Like finishing college or winning a fight?”
“Yes.”
“Then how are we different?”
“Because I don’t care about getting ahead. And I generally don’t give a lot of thought to the way other people define it.”
“And you think I do?”
“Yes.”
“Care to elaborate?”
He took a couple of steps before answering. “I think you care deeply about the way you come across to other people, but to me, that’s a mistake. In the end, the only one you can ever really please is yourself. How others feel is up to them.”
She pressed her lips together, knowing he was right but still a little taken aback that he’d simply… say it. Then again, he was forthright about everything else, so why should she be surprised?
“Did you learn that in therapy?”
“Yes. But it took a long time to embrace it.”
“Maybe I should talk to your therapist.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, and she laughed.
“Well, just so you know, it’s not all me. The fact that I need so much external validation is my parents’ fault.”
When he arched a skeptical eyebrow, she nudged his shoulder playfully, the gesture strangely natural. “I’m being serious about this. I might have been born with drive or ambition or whatever you want to call it, but they definitely nurtured it. Neither one of my parents went to school past the eighth grade, and they had to sacrifice for years before they could start the restaurant. They had to learn a new language and accounting and a thousand other things from scratch when they were adults, so to them, a good education was everything. I grew up speaking Spanish at home, so right from the start, I had to work harder than the other kids because I didn’t understand anything the teacher was saying. Even though my parents were both working fifteen-hour days, they never missed a meeting with my teachers, and they made sure I always did my homework. When I started to bring home good grades, they were just so proud. They’d invite my aunts and uncles and cousins over on the weekend – I’ve got a ton of relatives in town – and they’d pass around my report card, going on and on about what a good student I was. I was the center of attention and I liked the way it made me feel, so I began to work even harder. I’d sit in the front row and raise my hand whenever the teacher asked a question, and I’d stay up until the middle of the night studying for tests. As a result, I was pretty much a total nerd all the way through high school.”