II. Steve McQueen

The trip from Memphis to the gulf coast should take about seven hours but our family was able to extend it to about ten because of multiple restroom breaks, actually stopping to eat for lunch, buying fruit from a stand that had had a giant peach in front of it and a few more restroom breaks.
It made me want to get my own car and drive myself ahead of everyone, to embrace the quietness and that year was not an exception, but, fortunately, we had a large vehicle and I barricaded myself in the back row of our van with my notebooks and laptop. If the van pulled over, I never noticed as I was in my own world, still trying to find a way to mix zombies and sex. Tragically, not even Rob Zombie could help me with that. We arrived at the coastal town of Orange Beach at six-thirty and were partially situated in our condo by seven fifteen, after several trips to the parking garage and up to our room.
I decided not to wait until the morning as I stashed my suitcase and backpack into my room and went out to the balcony. The sun was still high in the western sky but the clouds blocked out any display of majesty.
The beach was vacant of people, at least as much as I could see as we were so high up and far enough away that everyone looked like rocks or sticks bobbing in the water.
The air smelled salty, but there was also a dead smell to it.
“No, that’s just my hopes and dreams,” I said to myself, hoping that no one was on the balcony next door.

We’re going to the store, anything you need us to pick up?” Mom asked from inside.
“The strongest coffee they sell,” I replied.
“Will do,” Mom replied as she stepped onto the balcony. “What a lovely sunset.”
“Yep,” I replied.
“I hope you’re not going to hole yourself up in your room.”
“No, I kind of thought of being out here on the balcony. There’s a power socket and there will be sunshine and the sounds of the surf.”
“I want you to at least come down to the beach with us tomorrow morning before you barricade yourself on the balcony.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course mom.”
“I may need you to watch your sisters.”
“Boys?”

Mom nodded. My younger sisters: Serena and Sia, were sixteen and fourteen years-old yet at times they acted as if they were toddlers or adults: depending on what get them what they want. They each brought a friend with them on our trip—I didn’t care at first but the more I thought about it worse it got: as Serena’s friend, Ally, had all my books and always looked at me with “that” look—a look I never reciprocated as she was sixteen and more like a sister to me and I never wanted to break that line.
“I’ll try to crack a few heads if they get near them,” I replied as mom patted my right shoulder and went back in.

They left me alone in the condo and I took a few minutes to sit on the couch to contemplate turning on the massive flat screen. I declined, instead I walked around the place and tried to imagine that I knew enough people to hold a small party. Nothing huge. Nothing loud or annoying, just a few friends to sit with and talk about life.
I didn’t have any to do that with.

I always gave my characters a chorus or a sardonic friend to play off of but I was my own sardonic friend who didn’t have a main character to help get out of trouble. I went back out onto the balcony and wondered, for a split-second, what it would feel like to jump form the 14th floor and free fall. Would I feel weightless? Would I hold my head up and fall looking like one of those “Sky Dancer” toys? Could I fly?
Yeah, it was a negative thought that hung up in my head a few seconds longer than I wanted it to.

A cold shiver enveloped me but I shook my head. “Use it. It’s character obsession gold,” I whispered to myself as I went back in and closed the glass door.

“Spencer!” Help us with the food, please!” Mom yelled from the front door.