“Wouldn’t you be? Though I must admit that I’m not quite sure what my parents would think if they knew I was with you today.”
“I have a pretty good idea of what they might think.”
She laughed, lighthearted and unrestrained.
“You want to try tossing the Frisbee around?”
“I’ll try. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She hadn’t been lying. She wasn’t very good; nearly all of her tosses veered off course, some hitting the sand and others getting caught in the breeze. Colin zigzagged gamely, trying to rescue the Frisbee before it hit the ground while hearing her call out, “I’m sorry!” Whenever she succeeded in making an accurate throw or catching the Frisbee, she reveled with almost childlike glee.
Through it all, she kept up a steady chatter. She told him about her trips to Mexico to visit her grandparents and described the tiny cinder-block houses where both sets had lived their entire lives. She touched on her high school years, along with a few of her college and law school experiences, and shared a few stories about working at the DA’s office. He was perplexed at how her first boyfriend could have let her go and why no one else had come along since. Could anyone be so blind? He didn’t know and didn’t care: All he really knew for sure was that he was unbelievably lucky that she’d wandered out to the pier.
Abandoning the Frisbee, he’d grabbed the Hacky Sack and heard her laugh aloud. “Not a chance,” she said before collapsing on her towel. Colin sat beside her, feeling the weariness of an active day in the sun and noticing that Maria’s skin had taken on a buttery glow. They finished the rest of their water, sipping slowly as they watched the waves.
“I think I’d like to watch you fight,” she said, turning toward him.
“Okay,” he said.
“When’s the next one?”
“Not for a few weeks. It’s at the House of Blues in North Myrtle Beach.”
“Who are you fighting?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“How can you not know who you’re fighting?”
He ran his fingers through the sand. “In amateur events, the ticket isn’t always finished until the day before. It all depends on who wants to fight, who’s ready to fight, who’s available to fight. And, of course, who actually signs up to fight.”
“Does that make you nervous? Not knowing?”
“Not really.”
“What if he’s like… a giant or something?”
“There are weight classes, so that’s not a concern. My main worry is if the guy panics and breaks the rules. Some of the guys who show up in these amateur events don’t have a lot of experience in the cage, and it’s easy to lose control. That’s what happened when my last opponent head-butted me. They had to stop the fight so I could get the bleeding under control, but the ref didn’t catch it. My coach was going nuts.”
“And you actually enjoy that?”
“It comes with the territory,” he said. “The good news is that I got the guy in a guillotine choke hold in the next round and he had to tap out. And I did enjoy that part.”
“You do realize that’s not normal, right?”
“Okay.”
“And just so we’re clear, I don’t care whether you win or lose, but I don’t want you to get all bloodied and bruised.”
“I’ll do my best.”
She furrowed her brow. “Wait – the House of Blues? Isn’t that a restaurant?”
“Among other things. But it has enough room. Amateur events don’t usually draw much of a crowd.”
“I’m shocked! Who wouldn’t want to watch men trying to beat the hell out of each other? What is wrong with society these days?”
He grinned. She wrapped her arms around her knees as she’d done the night before, but this time, he could feel her shoulder brushing against his own. “How did the photos turn out?” he asked. “The ones of the porpoises?”
Maria reached for her camera and clicked to the display before handing it to him. “I think this one’s the best,” she said. “But there are a few more. Just use the arrow button there to go through them.”
He stared at the image of the three porpoises. “It’s incredible,” he said. “It’s almost like they were posing.”
“Sometimes I get lucky. The light was just right.” She leaned toward him, her arm grazing his. “There are others that I’ve taken in the last month that I liked, too.”
He used the back arrow, scanning a long series of photos: pelicans and ospreys, a close-up of a butterfly, a mullet caught in midjump. When she leaned further into him to follow along, he caught the scent of wildflowers in the heat.
At the end of the series, she finally pulled back. “You should frame some of these,” he said, handing her the camera.
“I do,” she said. “But just the better ones.”
“Better than these?”
“You’d be the one to judge,” she said. “Of course, you’d have to come over first, since they’re hanging on my walls.”
“I’d think I’d like that, Maria.”
Maria turned toward the water again, a slight smile playing on her lips, and it seemed odd to think that it was only yesterday that he’d spotted her at the end of the pier. Or how well he’d come to know her in such a short period of time. And how much he wanted to know even more about her.
“We should probably get going,” she said, a note of regret in her voice. “Before it starts getting too dark.”