It's Easier When It's Harder

Only wisps of a jet trail slowly dissipate into the horizon as the sun shines on the couple. It extends from a 737 or 747 or 777 or some Airbus counterpart, inching away to where the sky meets rolling water. Cole stands on the beach as ocean water pushes up his calves. He still stands, ad infinitum, his legs perpendicular to his broad shoulders. He is the epitome of youth as he holds Jaylene in his arms. She beams in his arms, one arm over his left shoulder and the other extending forward, palm out. She laughs in his arm and consumes the image that blinks onto the previously unexposed lens.

She imagines exactly how this picture will look years from now, her skin glistening with salty pearls while his longish-brown hair extends to the side from a good headshake. And there, in the middle, she basks on her good side and lifted almost weightlessly in his arms. She appears firm, just right, with perfect proportions. It seemed unreal to enjoy sun, sand, and warm water in late November. She remembered their conversation several weeks before the flight. Cole said, “Don’t forget your swimsuit.”

Jaylene was born and raised in Oregon; not exactly a haven for sun and fun, or fun in the sun, or whatever she expected Florida to be. She knew rain and sometimes snow in November. Her skin was pale, much different from the olive bodies she saw laying out on the beach. Holidays were spent indoors sitting next to fires and wearing earth-toned sweaters. But this one would be different. This Thanksgiving would be in sunny Florida, with a sunny family, and a boy that she would sleep with later that night.

The sound of the camera echoes for what seems like more than a second. Cole sets her down; her feet submerged again in ocean water. She is fully aware of what the Atlantic consists of; shell, seaweed, and sand that escapes from beneath her feet. Jaylene looks at Cole. Cole looks at her and smiles then lumbers off into the ocean. His knees’ extending higher and higher as the water rises around his legs. He disappears under a small wave as the water jolts him forward, top-heavy. The wave sinks into the tide and his head bobs up behind it, arms thrashing on each side as if drowning. Jaylene, left standing by the shore, has only two options, join in the fun with Cole splashing away or hang out with his mom on the beach. Hmm…

Lumbering… Fall in front of a wave and pop up for breath. He splashes somewhere to the right now, with a big happy grin. She catches up with him.

“What are you doing out here, baby?” She asks with slight irritation that he’s sure not to catch. The water around his chest makes his face tighten; he purses his lips, squints, and leaps above a wave that passes between them. The wave misses his head by a foot, but it’s apparently necessary for him to jump as high as he can to avoid getting his already wet hair any wetter.

“Lets body surf,” he says.

“How do you do that?”

He jumps over a rise in the water, squinting and puckering.

“You just wait here for a good wave. When one comes, push off with your feet and swim as hard as you can. It’ll pull you. Then put your arms in front of you and glide, like superman.”

“…”

“Here, watch me.”

He extends his arms to either side just above the water line and searches the sea, hopping to avoid a rise, tight-faced, not avoiding it completely. Shaking his head, he continues searching.

His eyes widen, “Okay, watch this and I’ll come back out to you,” he says. “Here it comes!”

She grins broadly at his bulging deltoids. His arms move in freestyle while he hops forward for momentum. She closes her eyes. The wave hits her on the back and submerges her head. Straightening her legs, she gasps for breath as it passes, pushing her hair out of her eyes, and searches for Cole. An arm here and an arm there, legs kicking, water spraying on either side in every direction, and finally a head appears behind the break. He stands up, the water at his waist now. He turns around with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t like that one!” He says as he pushes back to her through the water.

“Almost though,” she says, “I think I get the idea.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you when to go. He reaches her and stands close beside her.
“Ready?”

Oh God. Okay, looking forward, aaaaannnnnndddd… “GO! SWIM! SWIM! Start paddling!”

She looks to her right over her shoulder and pushes the water under her. At first the water is thick and pushes back, then quickly the pressure releases as she gains momentum. She feels the water gather by her waist and rise above her body, or maybe her body sinks. Her arms are doing nothing to help. She floats forward uncontrollably. Cole shouts something. She extends her arms in front of her and clasps her hands together. She nestles into the wave. The water underneath her bubbles up into her nose just as she takes a quick breath while surging closer to shore. Panic overwhelms her as her lungs lurch for air. She pushes forward with her arms and regains her bearings with her feet on sand. Rising to her full height, the water only reaches her knees. She beams back at him, proud of her first body surf.

“That was awesome…” Cole starts.

“Did you see that? I didn’t think I was going to catch it but.” She stops and looks at his face. What is he looking at? Oh god… this couldn’t actually be happening. She drops into the water that only reaches her mid-stomach. She clutches her chest, bends forward and searches the top of the water with her free hand. The water keeps moving in circles around her. Feebly, she feels the sand underneath the surf. Wait, her bikini is still on. So what was he staring at?

“Are you okay?” Cole asks.

Cole swim-walks toward her, stumbling and jerking forward with each wave that rolls in.

“I thought you fainted,” he said.

“What? No, I’m okay, I think.”

He keeps looking at her, horrified. She feels warmth on her upper lip and looks down. The water circling around her stomach fill with red strings of blood that swirl and stretch in the swells. She touches the underside of her nose, dabs, and looks. Blood runs down her index finger and into the crevice of her knuckles.

“Did you hit your face on the bottom? Can you stand up?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just a nosebleed. I didn’t hit anything I don’t think.”

He grabs her elbow and arm just below the armpit and helps her to her feet. They walk quickly out of the water towards the towels and Cole’s mom that was lying out on the sand. She pinches the top of her nose and lifts her head upward because she was told to do that by someone.

As they reach the towels, his mom jumps up holding the t-shirt that Cole wore walking to the beach.

“Here, use this,” she says squinting from the sun making her face look old and cracked, like a leather car seat.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just wash up in the water when it stops bleeding. There’s no need to…”

“Don’t be silly. Cole doesn’t mind, do you?

“No, go ahead.”

Cole takes the shirt from his mom and pushes it into her Jaylene’s free hand. Cole and his mom stare at her in mock curiosity as if they were watching a show at the zoo where the crazy balding man puts his head in the alligator’s mouth.

“I’ll be fine, this happens sometimes.”

“Well, just lie here until it stops. It’ll ruin the shirt but don’t worry about it,” his mom says. “Layout with me for a while.”

Jaylene sits on the towel covered in sand from Cole’s clumsy feet and looks to the sky while pinching her nose.

“I’b so sorry, dis happens somebimes, ib’ll stob soon,” she says in one breath.

“I know, these things happen to everyone,” Cole’s mom says while still leaning on her arms in the sand next to Jaylene. “We need to get going soon anyway. Grammy will need some help baking the turkey.”

Oh, if only Grammy were here. Grammy is the sweetest 70-year-old grandmother Jaylene had ever met. With her hunched back and wrinkled forehead, she stands a little less than five feet tall. She fills mundane conversation with delightful anecdotes of Cole's past. 'When Cole was only eight he did the sweetest thing,’ she would say squeaking and clucking in delight. With Grammy, her worries dissipated and the tightness in her neck loosened; her shoulders relaxed. She would have remained at Grammy’s feet for the rest of the long weekend if she could. Until this trip was over, she would find solace in the brief moments of Grammy’s company and be eternally grateful. Grammy's optimism amazed her because after losing her husband and both her sons she still remained positive. It inspired Jaylene. Cole's Grandfather died of stomach cancer that started out as lung cancer from smoking too much while in the Navy while in the Pacific during WWII. Before that, her first son, Cole's uncle, drowned at only nineteen in a scuba diving accident when he got lost in an underwater cave and ran out of oxygen. Then her youngest son, Cole’s father, died when Cole was still very young from a hurricane that destroyed their garage while they hid in their car for safety. A large beam smashed through the car window, killing Cole’s father, while him and his mom were still inside. They had to wait there with their for hours until they were finally dug out. Fate hadn’t been kind to this family, but somehow Grammy remained the bubbling person that made Jaylene feel somewhat comfortable. But she was several blocks away from Grammy now and further away from comfortable on the beach with the sweaty, arm-pit-stained, white t-shirt over her blood-smeared nose. Jaylene shivered in the thick Florida heat as she sits next to Cole’s mom.

“I just want to go out a little more,” Cole, says in a winy voice that he uses sometimes.

“Okay, but make it quick. We need to get going pretty soon.”

“You okay, babe?”

“I dink I’m bine. Dis’ll dop soon.”

“Well, just hang out here for a bit. I’m gonna body-surf a little more and then we’ll go back.” With that, he turns and bolts into the ocean, leaving Jaylene alone with his mom.

Cole’s mom gazes after him as he lumbers once again into the rising tide and clumsily falls when the water level reaches his waist. They stare and say nothing for a while. The day’s heat intensifies on Jaylene’s drying and sticky skin. She looks down at her sandy knees completely aware of her Pacific Northwest complexion. A light breeze sweeps through, which picks up sand and dusts her cheeks. The smell of seaweed fills her nose as she closes her eyes, trying to avoid a conversation as long as possible.
Cole’s mom breaks the silence.

“Are you enjoying the weather so far? It must be completely different than Oregon this time of year.”

She pronounces it Ohragon, like its some kind of spice she keeps in her cupboard above the stove.

Jaylene lowers the t-shirt. “Oh, yes, it’s wonderful. I can’t believe I’m wearing a swimsuit in November. At home, at this time of year, frost covers my yard every morning if it hasn’t already snowed.” Jaylene lets out a nervous chuckle that sounds more like a snort, and then covers her face quickly with the t-shirt.

“I'm sure it’s still beautiful out there.” She pauses and keeps looking out into the Atlantic as Cole flops into another wave. “I’ve seen a whole bunch of pictures from what Cole brings home, when he’s home. I only see him once a year, and that’s usually for Christmas. He spends Thanksgivings with you, mostly. Thank goodness, you could come out this time. It’s a treat to see him for more than one week out of the year, even if I don’t have him to myself.”

Jaylene holds back an apology sensing that maybe it is appropriate, but stops. Cole moved across the country to finish his degree on his own, away from his mom, it wasn’t her fault. Jaylene says nothing.

“I remember—when he was just a little boy—that he came in the living room one day with one of his arms raised over his head like he was reaching for heaven, but he kept looking at his armpit. I said, ‘Cole, what in the good Lord’s name are you doing?’ He just kept looking and pinching at something with his other hand. Come to find out it was his first under-arm hairs finally popping out to say hello.”

Jaylene feels like she isn’t supposed to be hearing all this, as if she's doing something embarrassing, like walking in on someone using the restroom. She looks around to make sure no one is watching.

Cole's mom continues speaking with clicking preciseness. “I told his father that night and we knelt on the floor of our bedroom and said a little prayer of thanks right then and there. Earlier on, before his voice even dropped, we knew he was okay though. He started liking girls while only in third grade. Third Grade. I’ll tell you, his father and I weren’t too thrilled about that until we realized how innocent and sweet he was. He became infatuated with this little black girl whose parents went to our church. “

Jaylene feels her own breath as she exhales. It comes out strained and heavy, like trying to squeeze the last bit out of the toothpaste tube.

“At first we were pretty nervous, because he was so young, but he was only eight at the time and still not aware of things. He would go over to her house all the time and swim in her pool. Her parents were good and responsible people, I think her father was a dentist. Well, the whole church new that he was spending a lot of time over at her house and one day after church service an older lady walked up me and said, ‘Aren’t you worried about your son?’ and she stood there and actually pointed at him in the foyer hamming it up for little Hannah. That was her name, Hannah. Like from the Bible. I looked at her right in the eyes and said, ‘Why should I be, he’s only eight!’ The nerve of her! That, with the look I gave her, set her on her heels. I was so upset.”

Jaylene’s nose stopped bleeding but the blood hadn’t stopped rushing to her head. There was something oddly uncomfortable in this conversation as if she was somehow supposed to understand something his mom didn’t say outright… or maybe she was reading into it and it was all just mindless small talk.

Cole’s mom continued without hesitation, “No, I’ve never been worried about my little Cole-y. He was as innocent as he was young. Even now, nothing could change my perfect little boy. I just feel like I’m losing him. And he’s the biggest connection I have to his father, you know. He told you, didn’t he? As he grows older, they look more and more the same. He has the same body shape, you know. Every weekend at church people come up to me and ask, so how is perfect little Cole? That’s how everyone knows him.”

Jaylene lowered the bloodstained shirt from her nose and looked directly at Cole’s mom.

“He’s still my perfect little boy,” she repeats, hoping the second time would make it true, “at least I think he still is.”

Cole flops on the sand beside Jaylene and gives her a peck on the cheek.

“I’m hungry. Let’s get going.”


Cole did most of the talking on their way home, Jaylene, still uncomfortable, remained quiet while holding his hand tightly. Finally, they reached Grammy’s house, which was a white single-story house with light blue trim around the windows and front doorframe. It was small but sufficient for a lady in her late seventies. The grass was thick, crispy, like iceberg lettuce, connected seamlessly with the neighboring yard. A fig tree stood on the edge of the lawn, arching into the driveway and road. Behind it, from the back yard, stood a fruitless orange tree, bright green and towering over the gray-shingled roof.

All three took turns washing their feet with the hose outside the front door when they arrived and then rinsed their hands before going inside.

“You’re home! You must be burning up out there with all that sun.”

“Look at my face Grammy. It’s pretty red, isn’t it?”

“Bless your sweet little heart. Go put some Aloe Vera lotion on right now before you start to peel. Oh, Jaylene how did you like the beach?”

“It was so nice. I’m just not used to such hot weather this time of year.”

“This is about as cold as it gets down here. But we don’t have your beautiful mountains.”

“Well, you can’t have everything,” Cole’s mom says looking at nobody.

“Well, go wash up, the turkey will be ready in about an hour, but I still have some more to do. I don’t want anyone in the kitchen until I’m done and the food is ready.”

Jaylene walks out of the kitchen and catches Cole’s arm, squeezing his elbow a little too hard.

“Ouch! How’s your nose?” He says.

“Fine, but I wish you wouldn’t have left me alone with your mom like that. It’s so uncomfortable talking to her.”

“Did she grill you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t have to live with her.”

“Just don’t leave me like that again, please.”

“Do you want to take a shower first?”

“Yes.”

He pinches her butt as she turns into the guest bedroom. She digs through her messy suitcase grabs her things and walks into the bathroom. Inside a pinkish counter is littered with toiletries. She sets her towel over the clutter and lays her clothes on the closed hamper next to the toilet. Dropping the beach towel around her waste, she takes off her sand-filled bikini and tosses it on the floor. She starts the water and remembers the door isn’t locked. The bathtub knob stops turning towards hot and she walks to the bathroom door when she hears Cole's voice talking in the kitchen.

“So what do you think?” She hears Cole say.

“Oh she’s just a jewel, Cole. So sweet and so polite, she always offers to help,” Grammy starts.

His mom breaks in with a sigh, “I don’t know, Cole.”

“You don't know what?”

“Cole, when are you going to bring home a girl that compliments you? It doesn’t seem like she fits your personality, your ambitions for the future, or eventually, the role she will need to take as your wife.

“Well, that’s jumping ahead.”

“Cole, you know what I mean. You’re just oblivious. Your judgment is clouded. It’s obvious you two have… It just doesn’t seem like you’re thinking clearly. I raised you better than that.”

“That’s none of you business.”

“She completely controls you now. Who makes the decisions in your relationship anyway?”

“What do you mean? Like when we go to dinner?”

“Well, to start, yes.”

“I guess we both do. Sometimes I want to go to one restaurant and sometimes she wants to go to a different one. I don’t understand how this is relevant.”

“It seems to me like you’re just floating along with whatever she wants to do. We never see you anymore Cole, at least the way you were. You only come home once a year and when you are home, you seem distracted.”

“The airplanes go both ways, mom.”

“You know what I mean.”

Completely naked, Jaylene presses her ear harder on the door and checks the doorknob one more time to be sure it’s locked. She could see herself falling into the hallway if the door opened, sprawling naked on the floor in full sight of their judging eyes.

“Well, I think she’s wonderful, dear.”

Thank you Grammy,” Cole says.

“Don’t get mad, you asked for my opinion.”

“Yes, but I guess I expected you to say, ‘she seems nice’ or something a little less definite. You haven’t even known her for more than a day and you seem to have already crossed her off the list.”

“I’m your mother, Cole, I don’t need a whole day to know when some girls not good enough for my baby boy. It’ll be a cold day in hell when I stop knowing who’s good for you. She’s definitely not in your league.”

Jaylene looks down at the matted carpet not wanting to hear anymore. She feels like throwing up as she pushes herself up with one hand on the counter and slowly walks back to the tub of running water. It’s scalding. She keeps her hand under the spout as her mind spins, trying to absorb everything she heard. Her hand stings and she quickly pulls away, cools the water, and starts the shower. She steps into the tub and stands motionless, looking at her feet while sand spirals downward into the drain.


Jaylene sits with Cole on one side and Grammy on the other, with Cole’s mom seated directly in front of her. She sits quietly. She sips her apple cider and smiles at Grammy who smiles back and passes her the mashed potatoes. She thanks Grammy and serves herself before placing it back on the table next to the cranberry sauce and gravy. She has become a shadow of herself, looking down on the table from the ceiling fan, where she witnesses the small group of people eating Thanksgiving dinner from a less tangible place, where she wouldn’t feel the tension inside her. It has been a bitter awakening of real emotion, real disapproval, and real alienation, which she had never experienced before. Her head spins along with the fan that is set on low. Her mind is happier on the ceiling. She lets it rest and folds her hands on her lap. She needs a drink.

“Thank you Grammy,” she says after taking the green beans just passed to her.

“You’re welcome, dear. Don’t be shy; you need a little more meat on your bones before you float way.”

Jaylene smiles again.

They all sit at a small dinner table that only seems to make sense in Florida. It has bamboo legs and a cross-thatched top where an old plastic tablecloth hangs stiffly. The edge touches Jaylene’s knees under the table and if she were to lift her knees, the tablecloth would lift up and tip over her sparkling cider.

Jaylene looks up from her plate and considers Grammy who meticulously gathers potatoes and gravy on her fork and lifts it to her mouth, unaware of Jaylene’s gaze. Even as she eats she smiles. Her eyes make up for the curve in her lips when they are busy. She will never body surf in the ocean, though Jaylene is sure she once did when young she was younger. Jaylene remembers looking at the old photographs framed and standing on an antique dresser in the living room when she first arrived late last night. The young graduate was Grammy, beautiful, excited about possibilities. Cole told her before they left Portland that Grammy graduated the only girl in her class, one of the first women to complete a degree in pharmacology. She was strong, courageous, and persistent. Jaylene looks at Grammy pick at a piece of turkey before she lifts it to her mouth. With a hand that seems to require constant discipline, now, Jaylene sees the same young woman in the picture. Nothing has changed in her despite the death of her husband to a disease that forced her to watch him waste away into nothing. Or the death of her oldest son before he had a chance even to go to college. And most recently, the death of her youngest son, Cole’s dad. Jaylene shivers at the thought of that horrifying. Yet, Grammy still sits at her table as the embodiment of strength, though her true body would try to undermine that.

Jaylene then turns her gaze to Cole’s mother, a stark contrast to Grammy. Jaylene again notices the lines on her face as she sips the sparkling cider, then looks down at her plate, completely unaware of Jaylene’s gaze. Cole’s mom obviously hates her, and so, Jaylene should feel the same way. But she doesn't. What Jaylene does feel is confusing. She considers what Cole’s mom went through, having lost her husband, and then left to raise her children alone. Jaylene grew up her entire life with both of her parents, taking for granted what that was like, being able to manipulate between the two, receiving advice from two perspectives, even watching them hug at random moments that used to lift her spirits even though she would say that it was gross and try to separate them. The warmth she felt from her parents love for each other became commonplace. She didn’t recognize it as special. She imagined that if Cole’s dad were still alive, they would have probably been equally in love, which would have surely prevented the deep creases in her eyes.

Cole never discussed his family. When the subject would come up in their conversations, it was always short. Jaylene looks to her left, at Cole. He meets her gaze. She begins to speak to him without talking.

“Why don't you talk more about your family? Are you ashamed? Does it hurt too much? Did you think that I wouldn’t love you? Were you jealous of my life?”
He doesn’t answer.

He smiles at her and touches her hand. Grammy breaks the silence at the table, interrupting their gaze.

“Now Jaylene, I don’t know what kind of traditions you have in your family, but we like to go around the table every Thanksgiving and say one thing that we are thankful for.”
Cole’s mom face becomes terse. Cole rolls his eyes.

“I’ll begin.” Grammy says, “What I am thankful for, this Thanksgiving is that I have finally been able to meet Jaylene and see what a wonderful person she is.” Grammy reaches over, squeezes Jaylene’s hand and smiles.

Cole’s mom is obviously unsatisfied with Grammy’s answer. “It’s my turn now, isn’t it?” she says.

The pitch of her voice heightened in a cutesy way, getting soft and shrill at the same time.

“Well, I’m really thankful that my baby boy could come down from Ohragon and grace us with his presence once again. I don’t get to see him much, and when I do, I realize all over again how special he is.” Cole’s mom looks lovingly at Cole as he instantly becomes uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Cole hesitates, “I guess I’m thankful for how awesome the surf was this morning—I caught some pretty huge waves—aaaand, how nice it is that Jaylene came too.” Cole beams.

It’s Jaylene’s turn. She feels all of their eyes resting on her. First, she controls her irritation from what Cole said, and then, in an awkward silence, she searches for the right words. Jaylene thinks about the picture just taken of her and Cole at the beach and how she might see that picture in the future. When it was taken, she had a different view of this family and her place in it. She wondered if she were to take another picture, now, whether it would look different, if it were super-imposed on the photograph taken earlier. Would they compliment each other with a pleasant dissidence? Or would they look strange and unnatural, at odds? She used to think that she would be with Cole forever, now, he too seems different somehow, less appealing. She looks down at her plate and then takes in each of them as they sit, waiting expectantly for her to begin. She says nothing and stares back at them, also waiting for the words to come so that she could begin. “I suppose,” she says, “I’m thankful for how we can change so easily from the unexpected. It can clarify things.”

That sounded strange. An awkward silence hung closely over the table. It hung there for what seemed like a long time until it dropped suddenly from Grammy's words.

“To the unexpected,” Grammy says and raises her sparkling cider.

Cole and his mother follow Grammy’s lead, with Jaylene closely behind. They drink their cider and look at each other from behind the small glasses, squinting, and crinkling their eyes.