Beach Trip Read Free Page A

other one, who sings in the choir.”
    The next week Annie invited him to come over to listen to music. Their house was small and lacked privacy but Mitchell was from a good, Godfearing family so Annie’s mother allowed them to go back to her bedroom and sit with the door open. They each carried a Coke and a plate of cookies. Mitchell sat on the floor and looked around in wonder and amazement at her room. Stiffly starched curtains hung in front of the spotless windows. Jefferson Airplane played on the record player.
    “How come all your Barbie dolls are still in their boxes?” he asked. She had them neatly categorized by date of purchase and stacked on shelves beside a couple of open-faced fruit crates she had painted pink. Their tiny clothes were ironed and hanging on tiny hangers, arranged by seasons of the year, with the tiny shoes sorted in rows underneath.
    “They stay cleaner that way,” she said.
    He smiled and looked at her in wonder and admiration. “You sure are a funny girl. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”
    “You’ll need a coaster for that drink,” she said.
    Annie finished cleaning the refrigerator grille and then sat back to admire her handiwork, pulling off her rubber gloves. The grille sparkled. You could lick it, not that she would, of course, but it was comforting to know that she could. If she had to.
    She could hear Mitchell breathing in the den. With each out breath he wheezed like an old generator. Not that he was in any pain; he’d taken enough OxyContin to bring down an elephant. He just liked the drama of being an invalid.
    “Hon?” he called. When she didn’t answer he said louder, “Honey, can you make me a sandwich?”
    “I’m busy right now. I’m cleaning the kitchen.”
    “You cleaned the kitchen an hour ago.”
    “I’m busy.”
    “Okay,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll just come in there and make myself a sandwich. I’ll just come in there and make my own big mess.”
    Annie stood up quickly. “I’ll get it,” she shouted. “Don’t you dare come near my clean kitchen.” She could feel him smiling from the other room.
    Damn.
She needed a break. She needed to get away from her life if only for a week. This beach trip would be just the thing. And she was looking forward to seeing Lola, Mel, and Sara again, to being with friends who knew her from before her Q-Tip days. Lola had promised Annie her own bedroom, and Annie had eagerly jumped at the chance. She and Lola had shared a room in London, and Annie had felt like she was babysitting a small child, one who wanted to chat all night, sleep all day, and couldn’t keep to a schedule if her life depended on it.
    Forget London. This trip would be different. She had bought two new swimsuits and several trashy beach novels, had undergone a bikini wax, and had had herself sprayed with a fake tan.
    Anne Louise was ready for anything.
    Lola awoke from an Ambien-induced sleep. The room was dark. Her head felt thick and swollen, like it was too heavy for her neck. She would stop taking the sleeping pills no matter what Briggs said. She hated the waythey made her feel, comatose and heavy, the way she couldn’t dream, as though sleep were a thing to be endured and not a release. She never took sleeping pills when she was with
him.
She never took any of her medication when she was with him. Briggs kept her as drugged up as a Saigon brothel girl but he never made her take anything.
    She leaned over and pushed the button beside the bed and the automatic window blinds rose slowly. Bright sunshine flooded the room. She plumped the pillows behind her head and sat up slowly, letting her brain adjust to the new elevation, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Briggs’s side of the king-size bed was still rumpled where he had slept. He was an early riser. Early to bed and early to rise. No sleeping pills for Briggs.
    There was a slight knock on the door and Rosa entered, carrying a small coffee service on a silver