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Folly Beach

Chester Holden

    Lucy’s the strongest force I’ve ever felt, and despite not being the best to her, she brought out the best in me. Somehow she still does. That’s the thing about having loved and lost a woman of unshakable spirit. They’ll never again leave your thoughts, and you’ll never again enter theirs.
    I still remember being young and between semesters and staying with her mother in Charleston over the holidays. We had a week with nothing to do but find something to do. And quite honestly, we could do that with the best of them.
    We tried unsuccessfully for hours to befriend a colony of feral cats living in the thin layer of woods behind her mother’s apartment complex. We also took several walks long enough to get lost before each time finding our way back. But of course, our favorite thing was visiting Folly Beach.
     It was the night of New Year’s Eve and slightly below freezing. And after arriving at the beach with only the clothes on our backs, we sat in the sand and listened to the waves come in until getting cold. Then we started down the shoreline, and Lucy said, “I’m not sure why, but to me, the beach is never so beautiful as it is at night and in the winter.”
    “I know just what you mean,” I said.
    Lucy smiled, and I kissed her, and we walked a while more without saying anything. And well, eventually, I got a crazy idea in my head and asked, “Is it midnight yet?”
    “How should I know?” said Lucy. “I left my phone in the car next to yours.”
    “In that case, what do you say we take the first or last swim of the year?”
    “I’d say you’re a raving lunatic.”
    “And?”
    “And the last one in the ocean’s a dirty stinking hobo!”
    We frantically undressed before briefly hesitating to appreciate such a moment together. I still remember how Lucy looked beneath the moonlight, pale-skinned, unashamed, and gorgeous, strands of long brown hair blowing sporadically over her breasts in the chilling breeze. I was busy thanking god when she took off running clumsily toward the ocean with her typically stylish disregard and determination. And after following her into roughly waist-deep freezing water, we dove under a wave and resurfaced with nearly identical smiles.
    Then we hurried back and got dressed without drying off, and Lucy said, “I’m not sure if this makes sense, but I’m so cold right now I’m almost even hot.”
    “I know just what you mean,” I said.

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