Sunscreen and Second Chances

a story by Claude about kissing, sunscreen, the Midwest, swimsuits, and regret

The sun-bleached sand whispered beneath Ava's feet, each grain a memory, each step an echo of summers long past. Lake Michigan stretched before her, a vast blue mirror reflecting clouds that hung like cotton in the sky. She watched the children, brown bodies glistening with water and sunscreen, their laughter carried on the breeze. It was the same beach, the same lake, the same Midwestern summer air thick with the scent of coconut oil and promising rain. But Ava was different now, her skin no longer taut and smooth, her heart no longer racing with the possibility of first love. She closed her eyes, let the warmth seep into her bones, and felt time slip away like sand through an hourglass.

Young Ava emerged from the shimmering haze of memory, sixteen and trembling with anticipation. She tugged at the straps of her new swimsuit, stark white against her brown skin, feeling exposed and exhilarated. Mama's voice echoed in her mind, "Don't forget your sunscreen, baby. Our skin may be blessed, but the sun don't care none about that."

The beach was alive with the rhythms of summer—the steady lapping of waves, the staccato cries of gulls, the symphony of laughter and scolding and transistor radios. And there, emerging from the water like some ancient god given flesh, was Marcus. Water beaded on his dark skin, caught the light and made him glow.

Ava's heart stuttered. She fumbled with the sunscreen bottle, the scent sharp and chemical, a harbinger of summer adventures yet to come. As she smoothed the lotion over her arms, she felt the weight of her grandmother's gaze from beneath the shade of a wide-brimmed hat. The old woman's eyes held generations of caution, of boundaries not to be crossed.

But youth knows nothing of caution, and Ava's feet were already carrying her towards the water's edge, towards Marcus, towards a moment that would echo through the decades.

Sand shifted beneath Ava's feet as she approached the water's edge. Marcus turned, his smile as bright as the sun glinting off the lake. A beach ball arced through the air, and they both reached for it, fingers brushing, electricity sparking between them.

"Hey, Ava," Marcus said, his voice deep and smooth as molasses. "Wanna play?"

She nodded, words stuck in her throat like the grains of sand between her toes. They tossed the ball back and forth, an intricate dance of near misses and fumbled catches. With each exchange, they drew closer, until Ava could see the flecks of gold in Marcus's brown eyes.

The ball forgotten, they stood facing each other, the gentle waves lapping at their ankles. Ava's heart pounded in her chest, a drum beating out a rhythm older than time. Marcus leaned in, his lips parting slightly, and Ava closed her eyes.

Their first kiss tasted of lake water and sunscreen, sweet and awkward and perfect. For a moment, the world fell away—no watchful grandmother, no disapproving neighbors, no weight of expectations. Just two hearts beating in sync, two souls touching in the summer sun.

But such moments are fragile as soap bubbles, and just as fleeting.

"Ava Mae Johnson!" Her grandmother's voice cracked like summer lightning, shattering the moment. Ava jerked back, the spell broken. She could feel the weight of stares, the silent judgment of the beach-goers who'd witnessed this transgression.

Marcus stepped away, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, before turning and wading deeper into the lake, as if he could wash away the moment.

Ava trudged back to her grandmother, sand clinging to her wet feet. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by shame and defiance in equal measure.

"Child, have you lost your mind?" Her grandmother's words were hushed but sharp. "What will people think? What will your mama say?"

Ava wanted to argue, to defend the beauty of what she'd just experienced. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she sat silently, watching Marcus's dark form against the blue horizon, feeling the sun dry the kiss from her lips.

As the afternoon wore on, the magic of the day faded like a polaroid left in the sun. Ava packed up their belongings, stealing glances at Marcus, who seemed to be purposefully avoiding her gaze. The ride home was silent, filled with unspoken recriminations and the heavy scent of fading sunscreen.

The memory faded, and Ava found herself back on the beach, decades later. She touched her lips, remembering the ghost of that first kiss. The sun had etched lines around her eyes, and her hands bore the spots of age, but inside, she was still that girl, yearning for connection.

"Mom?" Her daughter's voice pulled her from her reverie. "Can you watch Zoe while I get some ice cream?"

Ava nodded, smiling at her granddaughter who was busy building a sandcastle at the water's edge. She watched the little girl, her skin a beautiful blend of her parents', free from the burden of old prejudices.

As Zoe played, Ava's eyes drifted to an older man walking along the shoreline. There was something familiar in his gait, in the set of his shoulders. Could it be? Her heart quickened as he turned, and for a moment, she saw the boy from her memories superimposed on the man before her.

"Marcus?" she called out, her voice carried on the breeze.

He paused, squinting against the sun. Recognition dawned in his eyes, followed by a smile that bridged the decades between them.

"Ava," Marcus said, approaching her. "It's been a long time."

They stood facing each other, the years between them as vast as the lake beside them. Yet in his eyes, Ava saw the same warmth she remembered from that summer day long ago.

"It has," she replied, her voice soft with memory.

As they exchanged pleasantries, catching up on lives lived apart, Ava felt a bittersweet ache in her chest. What might have been, had circumstances been different? But as she glanced at her granddaughter, still engrossed in her sandcastle, she realized that regret had no place here. Every choice, every moment had led to this—to the family she loved, to the life she'd built.

Marcus followed her gaze and smiled. "She's beautiful," he said. "Just like her grandmother."

Ava laughed, a sound as free and joyous as the waves lapping at the shore. "Flatterer," she teased, feeling sixteen again for just a moment.

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Ava knew that some memories were meant to remain just that—beautiful, fleeting moments, treasured but not dwelled upon. She said goodbye to Marcus, carrying with her not regret, but gratitude for a moment that had shaped her, for a kiss that tasted of sunscreen and possibility.