Adam turned right at the street running along the coast. He knew from years of experience that the beach house was only a mile away. Although his family had gone to the beach house every summer for fourteen years, this was his first time driving to it. In previous years his dad had driven. But dad couldn't do that now. This summer it was just Adam and his mom, sitting in the seat next to him.
"We're almost there," Adam said, breaking a long silence. He tried to sound cheerful.
"Almost," said his mom, after a moment's pause. "I wonder if it's any different."
"Probably not. It's never changed before. I'll bet it's the same."
Two minutes later, Adam pulled the Toyota into the driveway of the house. It looked the same as ever: angular and modern, clad in stained, gray wood vertical plank siding, designed to mix with the other houses around it and not to distract from the windswept landscape of the Northern California coast. Beyond the house, a treeless, gentle slope blanketed by sun-browned grass extended a hundred yards or so before falling away in a steep bluff to the beach, a hundred feet below. On the far side of the land's end the Pacific Ocean spread out in a muted blue plane in every direction, until it met a thin, smoky smudge hanging over the western horizon -- the fog that with clocklike regularity rolled in and over the coast before sunset.
Adam urged his mom to go in the house and relax while he brought the luggage in from the car. They would only stay a few days, so there wasn't much to carry. He lugged the small suitcases to the two bedrooms and put the food in the cupboards and refrigerator. When Adam was done he pulled a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc out of the refrigerator and poured generous helpings into cheap long-stemmed wine glasses. He took the glasses to the deck, where his mom sat in a chair looking out at the ocean. The quiet was broken only by the music of low wind and nearby surf.
"I thought you'd like this," he said.
"I see you poured yourself some, too," she said, with a thin smile.
"I sure did. I'm legal now, mom. Remember?"
Adam had turned 21 in the previous year. He'd graduated from college three months earlier.
"It's easy to forget," she said. "Or maybe I make myself forget because it makes me feel old to think about your age. But we shouldn't really be drinking so early in the day, should we?"
"It's play time, mom," Adam said. It was one of his dad's favorite phrases. Every year they'd show up at the beach house. Adam's mom, Mara, might be tired or withdrawn. Adam might miss his friends and video games. But his dad, Kirk, could not be slowed. He'd pull himself straight and upright and with a lumberjack voice call "It's play time, kids!" Mara and Adam would have no choice but to comply. To foil or cross dad was unthinkable. His energy and enthusiasm were boundless and irresistible.
Adam's dad had died in a car crash ten months earlier. His big, booming, playful voice had been silenced forever. Without dad around the family was much quieter. Adam's mom, unlike his dad, was soft-spoken and reserved. Adam wasn't as quiet as his mom, but he didn't have his dad's ebullience, either. He tried to do his part to pick up his mom's spirits, but it didn't come as easy to him as it had to his dad.
Adam knew his mom still grieved. In recent months she'd gotten out more, seeing friends and tending to her personal needs, but she still went through extended periods of withdrawal and silence. Adam grieved, too, but college graduation and the need to get a job kept him busy and prevented him from wallowing in despair at the loss of his father. But he felt a responsibility to help his mom. It pained him to see her still hurting.
On the deck, warmed by the mid-day sun, Adam wanted to pick up his mom's spirits.
"Dad would be glad we're here," he said.
"You think so?" Mara asked her son.
"I know so, mom. Dad always wanted you to be happy. There was nothing more important to him."
Mara smiled.
"Nobody knew happy like your dad. He was happy every where he went. He infected everyone around him with his happiness. Sometimes it was annoying. I can't tell you how many times I'd be napping or relaxing on the sofa and your dad would burst into the room and scream, 'Time to play, Mara!'"
"He really loved you. He told me that all the time."
"Yeah?" she said, looking up from her lap. "Your dad wore his heart on his sleeve. He was unusual for a man in that way. You're more like me. You hold it in."
Mara stared at her son and Adam stared back. He wondered what his mom was thinking, but as always, he didn't know. His dad always had been an open book, but his mom always had been a closed one. Adam had no idea what his mom was thinking.
Adam scanned the horizon beyond the house deck. The band of fog at the horizon still was far off, but when it came it would come quickly, and then it would be too cold to spend time on the beach.
"Let's go play, mom," Adam said. "We've got time to relax. Let's enjoy the warmth while we can and go to the beach. You know that's what dad would say if he was here."
"He would, I'm sure. O.K. Let's do that."
Fifteen minutes later Adam and Mara walked down the steep path from the house to the beach. The sun beat on them, warming them, but a steady cool breeze blew off the ocean, heralding the oncoming late afternoon gloom.
They took off their sandals when they reached the beach to let their bare feet touch the sand. They walked to the surf until they reached the high-water mark, where loose uneven sand gave way to compact moist sand and the walking was easier. They stopped and took in the view.
"I think I built a hundred sand castles in this spot," Adam said.
"I think you did. Your dad helped you," Mara said.
They stood together and watched the waves come in, one after another.
Adam stood just behind his mom and looked at her. He wasn't sure what swimsuit she wore because she wore a short, loose yellow beach dress over it. Her figure looked firm and eager and youthful, and Adam, who had mourned his dad's death in his own way for months, felt a twinge of the sadness his mom must have felt for being too young to have lost a husband.
Mara took Adam's hand.
"Come with me," she said. She pulled him to the right and they began walking along the beach.
It was mid-summer, and the sun beat down on them without the interruption of clouds, but it was only middling warm. The water off the Northern California coast looked inviting, but in truth it was cold all year long, and the riptides were fierce. The cold water cooled the air flowing off the ocean, and even at the peak of summer it was seldom truly hot.
Adam and his mom walked a long time north along the beach, past the area where he and his mom and dad usually spent their time. The width of the beach narrowed as they walked, until it ended in a jumble of rocks between the water and the bluff.
