Winter Day
It’s a sharp-winter, sandy day
A day when the wind blows sand in your eyes making them brim over
One piece of grit feels like a hunk of pumice, grinding against my cornea
I press my fingers to my eye, the tears warm against my skin
It’s the kind of day your stupid cousin spends at the beach anyway
Flapping around in the waves like an idiot
I sit farther back along the sand in the sea grass and scrub
Huddled in my hoodie, arms wrapped tight against my body
My head is turned away from the water, but I keep one eye on her
It may be Florida, but today it’s only 61 degrees
She laughs at me shivering in the sand
The same kind of laugh she bellowed when I found her in bed with my boyfriend, 15-years ago
That braying laugh even now like a cheese grater on my shins
It’s a sharp-winter, sandy day and the afternoon grows late
I can’t seem to budge whatever is grinding inside my eye
A couple walking their dog turn their collars up against the strong breeze
They shake their heads at the woman in the water but don’t look my way
The wind catches their voices as they yell caution to my cousin
She flips them the finger and pulls from the bottle
Tequila is her drink of choice in Florida
Fuel for her antics and today, protection from the cold
It used to be vodka, her hand waving the bottle at me while laughing in bed with my boyfriend so long ago
Memories of other times run across my mindscape as the ruckus from the water continues
The lies told my family that they believed
The shoplifting she blamed on me
The joints she said were mine
The pregnancy test-kit found in the bathroom garbage
Cousin was a busy girl back then
It’s a sharp-winter, sandy day as laughter from the water changes from a bray to a bark
I look up and see a pelican’s brown body lifting from the water beside her, flying away with its prey
Moving to SW Florida years ago had been a relief, and not just from the Vermont cold
But she lives here now, all false hugs and shrill compliments like nothing happened
Like she never happened to me
More sand in my hair now and the salt sticky against my face
Cousin calls to me from the water, the gusts whipping her voice away
We are alone on the beach
I wave at her as the swell moves her sideways in concert with the spray
It’s a sharp-winter, sandy day and the sun lowers in the sky
I can’t see cousin for a moment, then she stands up
The waves have moved her farther out and the water is up to her armpits
Even from my blanket I can see the confusion and fear on her face
Her actions are jerky, as she slides on the Gulf’s sandy bottom
I pull up my blanket and head to the facilities around the other end of Lovers Key
Got to get that grit out of my eye before it causes real damage
It’s a sharp-winter, sandy day and the cry of the seagulls are all that can be heard
One of them seems strangely stricken
June Lorraine Roberts is a Flash Fiction writer of crime fiction, whose stories have been featured by Akashic Books and The Flash Fiction Press.
She is the creator of MurderInCommon.com, a website about crime fiction books and authors, that features debut and mid-list writers worldwide. Her website is a FeedSpot Top 100 Crime Fiction Blog.
A graduate of the London School of Journalism and a member of Sisters in Crime, she has served as a Derringer Judge and Bouchercon panelist, and has read her work at Noir at the Bar. As time permits, she beta reads for crime fiction authors.
Links:
http://www.akashicbooks.com/the-hong-kong-deal-by-june-lorraine-roberts/
http://www.theflashfictionpress.org/2016/02/25/picking-blueberries/
Punk Noir Magazine 
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