The Summer of Naked Swim Parties by Jessica Anya Blau Read Free Book Online

in her voice.
    She hoped Flip hadn’t noticed how forced her words were, how she was, at that moment, trying to act like she was the normal daughter of a normal father. People her sister would love to be related to.
    “Have fun,” Allen said, and he walked out of sight.
    “See you at East Beach, Allen,” Flip called after him.
    Flip and Jamie sat in the battered Volkswagen bus, parked in the back row of the drive-in theater. There was a case of Heineken on the floor of the backseat and a picnic dinner in a wicker basket on the floor between them. In all her imaginings of dating, Jamie had never even fathomed that a  boy might bring a picnic to a movie. Jamie wanted the date to be over only so she could tell Tammy and Debbie about it—how Flip had pulled out two blue-and-white-checked napkins and laid one on each of their laps. How he had set up her plate of food first: chicken breast, corn on the cob, and a dinner roll, before setting up his own plate. How he had opened Jamie’s beer, then snapped the metal top with his thumb and middle finger so it went sailing across the bus, hitting the back window.
    Mother, Jugs & Speed played on the giant screen. Bill Cosby was in the movie so they both expected to laugh, but never did. Jamie sat up straight and tried to arrange her face so it looked like she was watching the film, but really all she could think about was if she had cheesy-looking corn bits mashed into her teeth, if she should finish everything on her plate to flatter Flip (even though she had no appetite), or if the button on her pants was going to pop off if she took just one more sip of beer. Flip was hunched over his plate, eyes turned up toward the screen, holding his roll with his left hand while he lifted chicken or corn with his right hand. Every now and then he turned to Jamie and said something short and quick, like “Did you ever see Bill Cosby’s TV show?” To which she answered, “Uh huh. He’s funny.” Every time Raquel Welch came on the screen Jamie felt small and bland, like a boiled Idaho potato. She worried that Flip would look up at Raquel, look back at Jamie, and wonder why she was sitting in his VW bus when someone more like Raquel would fit in much better. But he didn’t seem interested in Raquel, he seemed interested in Jamie, as she silently gnawed at her meal.
    “Did you make this food?” Jamie asked, after finally finishing everything on her plate.

    “My mother made it,” Flip said. “She’s, like, totally into doing anything to make me happy.”
    “Cool,” Jamie said.
    “Your dad seems cool,” Flip said.
    “Yeah, I guess he is.”
    “Should we meet them grunion hunting?”
    “Uh, if you want to.” Jamie wondered if the addition of her parents made her an attractive package.
    Flip opened his third beer while Jamie worked on her first. She had tasted beer before, but had never drunk a whole bottle. When her Heineken was three quarters gone Jamie felt so bloated that she imagined untying her belly button and deflating her stomach with one long, slow hiss.
    “Another brewhaha?” Flip asked.
    Jamie was shaking her head no when Flip leaned over and kissed her: deliberately, intently. She was unsure of what to do with the beer bottle in her hand, if she should put her arms around him while still holding it or if she should try to put it down somewhere. She could feel Flip’s beer cold against her back.
    “Come on,” Flip said, and he took Jamie’s hand and led her to the bench seat in the back. She left her beer on the floor by the front seat as she climbed into the back and settled into a body-engaged kiss. Flip’s bus smelled like tar and surf wax, his breath smelled like chicken and beer, his body smelled warm and musky, like the sun. Jamie felt like she was melting—oozing into the seat, into his chest, into his lap. There was a sound track to this extended kiss: the blaring, hollow, horn whines from Mother, Jugs & Speed, Bill Cosby’s stilted drawl, and