Burden of Perfection
The beach stretched on in an endless, Felinian paradigum of white sand. Striped beach chairs, suntanned little kids, loud teenagers crowded the shifting surface, teeming throngs searching for a way to escape the oppressive heat of the summer sun.
Stacy stretched her legs out carefully, worrying only briefly about post-swim cramping. Her hand rested inertive, flat against her belly, boarded at both top and bottom by a striped pink bikini. It was a good day to lay around and simply exist, without having to strain herself with too much thought.
A Frisbee smacked her knuckles, sending her body wincing back to life, a fiddler crab stirred from ocean's depth. Two pairs of feet padded up to rest at the side of her head; looking up, she met knee-to-eye with Mark Calloway's knee.
"Hey," He said "Did we hit ya?"
She nodded, handing the Frisbee back, "It's OK," She said, lying back down, "I was just resting."
"Hey, if you wanna join in, feel free to. Trish is having the time of her life over there."
Lacidasically, she peered over at her lover as she bounced up and down behind the volleyball net, her charms flinging themselves about in a variety of pleasing directions. It was the sort of thing that would draw anyone's attention, and it had...of several males, who couldn't get enough of the view she provided.
"It's OK." She said, scratching a patch of sunburned skin, "I'll be just fine here."
Mark shrugged, moving away from the prone girl and returning to the game. Stacy turned her head to the sky, dotted minimally with clouds, and wondered implacably about her lover.
Oh, she loved Trish; with all of her heart. But it's damned hard to be in love with a sex symbol, especially one so universally desired. Her own existence as a sex symbol meant nothing to her; her identity as a woman remained something unimportant to her inner being. Even at twenty-one years of age, she was aware of this.
An extra warming made her sweat; and she was aware of the presence of a new form beside her. Chris Kanyon settled himself on what had been Trish's towel, slugging down a good swallow of homemade lemonade from a glass bottle.
"You down, Stace?" He asked; Stacy's nose wrinkled from confusion until she realized that he meant depressed, "A little bit. I think it must be the weather."
"It's gorgeous, and I know you're thinking about Trish." He noted mirthfully, earning him a scornful eye-roll.
"How did you guess?"
"Honey, I'm going out with Jeff Hardy, the boy who could nail more ass on either side of the Atlantic if he wants to," Chris turned over onto his stomach, "But he doesn't; he's with me."
"How do you do it?" Stacy asked, staring out over the ocean as it rolled inward, kissing her toes.
"Trust Jeff?" Chris asked, receiving a nod in the affirmative, "It's not too hard." He laughed, "I have a key to the cabinet. One mean word, and it's bye-bye, Manic Panic." He joked.
Stacy snorted, "Sincerely, Chris, I want to know."
Chris thought for a moment, then opined, "It's all about trust. If I didn't trust Jeff, I wouldn't be here with him," He said firmly, "When you give yourself over to love, you don't spend a lot of time thinking about it, I believe."
They shared a laugh, an oddly intimate moment. Like beach friendships, the moment was fleeting and bittersweet. She stroked his jaw with her fingers, a light gesture of intimacy she would have never expressed on her own.
He looked beyond her shoulder, "I see Jeff waiting," He noticed, his lover flying down the coastline with a kite dragging the sky, "Don't forget you ain't alone in your boat, Stace. When you don't think anyone else gets you, remember that I do."
Stacy smiled, "Thanks for talking with me." She said briefly, "I'll see you back on the road." With that, Chris was gone and she was alone again.
She thought over Chris' words for a moment..faith and trust, he'd said. Two items she hadn't been possessive of for ages. But now was the time to start trying again, and try she must if she wanted to keep Trish.
Standing, walking by the ocean to join her lover, Stacy noticed her reflection in the ocean's waters; palid and hollow eyed, it stared back at her.
She shivered in the ninety degree heat.