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Syn

It is hotter than what I am used to for June. Sweat beads along my upper lip. My bangs stick to my skin. I fan my face, thankful for wide-brim straw hats, bikinis, and flip flops. It’s what I have been living in for the past week.

“Doing okay, kiddo?” I tip up my hat and glance down at the little boy next to me. We are standing in line for my little brother’s newest favorite ice-cold treat, Hawaiian shaved ice.

“Hot.”

“I know, sweetie.” I remove my sunglasses. His cheeks are flushed. “Why don’t you wait on that bench?” I point to the spot in the shade beneath an awning.

“Remember, blueberry.”

“Are you sure? Your mouth and tongue will turn blue.”

Walking backward with his hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki shorts, he sticks out his tongue. Smurf blue, leftover from yesterday. Awesome. I laugh. He smiles.

God, I love that kid.

The line moves, and soon I’m next. The lady behind the counter, her eyes light up. “The usual?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She rings up my order, and I hand her cash, my attention sliding to Gunner. He is sitting on the bench with his hands clasped in his lap and his legs hanging off the edge. He swings them, looking cute and carefree as can be.

The lady looks where I’m looking. “He’s a good kid. How old is he?”

“Five. He starts kindergarten in the fall.” She hands me my change, and I drop them in my bag.

“Where are you two from?”

“He lives with his dad in San Diego. I live in Washington state.”

She starts the ice machine, and Gunner hops off the bench and runs over, the sweltering heat forgotten in his enthusiasm. He loves watching her shape the ice and then pour the flavoring, the color bleeding into the ice until there is nothing left of the white. I pick him up by the waist and prop him on the counter.

This boy is excited for that first bite. Sweet. Cold. Cooling. Hopefully, he takes it easy. Brain freezes are not fun. The first time he had one, Gunner’s face reminded me of my friend Gwen’s bitter beer face.

After the lady is done pouring the flavoring, she sticks a spoon in the ice and hands Gunner his treat. He runs back to the bench. Picking up on the vibe that she has more to say, I hang around but keep the conversation short. More customers show up, a man and a woman, from their shadows. He is tall with wide shoulders. She’s slender and her hair is in a topknot.

“What part of Washington are you from? My daughter is looking at a college in Dumas.”

“That must be Dumas University. It’s the only college in Dumas. Where I go. I’m in my last year.”

“What a small world! Do you like it?”

“I do.”

“How’s the weather?”

“Cooler.”

“She likes cooler. It’s too hot here for her.”

Here is Bayside, an island off the coast of Southern California. This “family trip” was my father’s idea. I normally don’t go along with Beau’s ideas, but he wanted to help me celebrate my monumental twenty-first birthday in style. The main reason I agreed, though, is having more time with my little brother. Gunner is the best thing to come out of our attempts at becoming a family since I found out four years ago Beau is my biological father.

“So you recommend?”

“Highly.” In the corner of my eye, a glob of blue ice slides down Gunner’s chin. I grab a napkin. “It was nice meeting you. I should go. His dad is waiting for us.”