The Faulkes Chronicle by David Huddle

Author:David Huddle
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-936797-58-5
Publisher: Tupelo Press
Published: 2015-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

IT’S LATE AFTERNOON.

Once we’ve checked out our rooms, we’re eager to get closer to the water. Most of us have ocean views from our windows, but we’re hungry for the ocean itself. We’re so close we’d probably break through police barriers if they were between us and that water. Faulkeses are genetically disposed to distrust elevators. So out in the hallways we find staircases and clatter down them — some of us in shorts and sandals, others in flip-flops and bathing suits and carrying towels — to assemble where our father said we should wait for him. Soon he appears, also in shorts and carrying a small box of beach tags, which he distributes among us. He tells us to go ahead while he waits for our mother. We troop out into the sunlight, fidget and pace until the crosswalk’s light turns green, scurry like lemmings across Beach Avenue, make our way up to the boardwalk, where we can hear the surf, then file through the entranceway, and finally scatter out across the sand, most of us running or trotting toward the water. Isobel goes flying out ahead of everyone, then makes a dead stop at the water’s edge, looks back at us, flings an arm up to point to the ocean horizon, and shouts “Come on!”

It’s a rare Faulkes who’s a good swimmer — the majority of us are nonswimmers, which is just how we are in our family. We’re landlubbers. That fact had remained far back in our minds as we made the long journey from home down to Cape May, and it came forward in our thoughts only slightly as we changed into beach clothes in the hotel and crossed the street and trotted across the sand. At the water’s edge, however, with our toes and ankles shocked by the cool temperature and the breakers rolling toward us, we suddenly remember — probably all of us in unison — what lousy swimmers we are. Some of us step back from the water to gaze out over its moving surface with mixed feelings, while others venture forward. Only Desi has the courage simply to lift her arms, point them, curve her body, and dive forward into the face of a breaker. She comes up and begins thrashing her arms and legs in a swim-like fashion, but soon she finds her feet can touch bottom, so she stands up, spews water and snot from her mouth and nose, wipes her face, and laughs back at us. If not for that child, we might all have taken the cowardly option. We’ve seen that we have it in us to become beach potatoes. But because Desi is out there — and clearly enjoying herself — C.J. and Emily and McKenzie and William and Peter and Isobel and Sarah Jean all wade in and head out beyond the breakers. Though they don’t actually swim a great deal, it isn’t necessary. They hunker down and bob up and down with the waves, they giggle and splash and demonstrate that Faulkeses do have it in them to enjoy the beach.

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