Five days have passed since he left Cambridge to spend time with his mother on the Texas coast. Up here, the wind is strong. The plastic leaves of the tall, potted plants beat against the sliding glass. He does not care for the penthouse with its open-mouthed swordfish on the walls, the blue tiles and all the mirrors that make it impossible to do even the simplest thing without it being reflected. Early in the mornings, the porters erect wooden loungers and stake blue parasols on the private strip of sand. As the morning heats up, the residents come out to lie almost naked in the sun. They bring paperbacks, towels and reach into their coolers for Diet Coke and Coppertone. He lies in the shade and watches the procession of young men with washboard bellies walking the strand. They are college kids his own age who stay at the motels closer to the strip. Towards midday, when the heat becomes unbearable, he swims out to the sand bar, a good half-mile from the shore.
What do You think about Walk The Blue Fields (2013)?
