medusa on the beach

by Oliver Cubillos

My goal for the day was to fill a bucket with sand crabs, find a dozen sand dollars, and catch a big fat jellyfish. I did the first two as soon as we got to the boardwalk. Uncle Jack parked the car while I raced to the shore. It was low tide. I got pretty lucky with the sand dollars and crabs. I heard once that a sand dollar is like the body of Christ. The holes in the middle being where they stuck him to the cross. You’re supposed to be pretty lucky if you find a lot of them. I don’t know if I believe in funny things like that. Especially after all I saw that day on the beach.

I had on this cowboy hat that made me feel like a movie star. Uncle Jack gave it to me just that morning. See, we’d started watching old movies with Grandma on the weekends. My favorite was Shane. We never finished it because Uncle Jack kept falling asleep. I thought the gunslinger guy was pretty sick. He wore this white cowboy hat and a cool silver belt. Uncle Jack found a match at the costume shop next to the library. It even came with a matching toy pistol. I kept it tucked in my swimming trunks on the ride over. You never know when you’ll encounter bandits or evil guys like that.

Uncle Jack never took me to the beach. He said the sand made him itch and the wind messed up his hair. All summer I begged him to go. He’d been having all these days off from the shop. I’d leave in the morning and he’d be passed out on the couch. When I got home around sunset, he’d be out in the garden laying on his back with his shirt off by the sprinklers. Grandma must have said something to him after I bugged her about going so many times. Uncle Jack can be kind of hard, she told me. We were in the kitchen when she said that, and she rolled an apple from the bowl and flicked it right onto the floor. It made a big mess everywhere. She licked her fingers as she wiped it up. You just got to make him laugh, she said. He’s still sweet inside. I reminded myself to try and splash him or something later.

I was carrying my bucket back to Uncle Jack to show him what I’d collected. He was standing looking out to sea with one foot propped up on the wooden fence between the parking lot and the sand. He looked like one of those old fashioned explorers. His hair and shirt were blowing all around. The sun was in my eyes, but I could see he was smiling. When I got to him, I set the bucket down on the concrete. There was a crab crawling around the edge, and Uncle Jack let it go up his finger. He didn’t seem to mind those kinds of things. Gross stuff. He flicked it away and ruffled sand from my hair.

I wanted to stay and find that jellyfish, but Uncle Jack had other plans. He said we’d come back later. Now was a good time for the boardwalk games. I didn’t really care for those. I was never good at them and I hated waiting in lines for stupid prizes, but Uncle Jack said there was a shooting one. That made me puff out my chest and get all excited. I tipped my cowboy hat and followed him up the steps to the boardwalk.

I went to the booth by myself since Uncle Jack went to get us some lunch. The girl working there looked only a couple years older than me. She had dark red hair that covered one of her eyes like a cyclops, and she was chewing gum all fast-like. I waited behind a couple of other kids until it was my turn. I got to the front and handed her my only dollar. She barely looked at me. She seemed all irritated when she handed me the gun. I hated when older people got annoyed like that. I took the gun and imagined myself shooting out her other eye. 

I didn’t do very well in the game. I’ve always had bad aim. I wished Shane was there to shoot out all the little targets. He would’ve hit them all. Uncle Jack came back with two hotdogs and gave me one. There was relish and mustard dripping down his forearm. We went over to one end of the pier and sat on a bench overlooking the water. There were all these fishermen there with buckets of fish. It wasn’t the kind of thing I’d like to watch while eating, but Uncle Jack wanted to see what kind of stuff they’d fish up. I think I told you he didn’t mind gross stuff.

As we ate, these two young guys came up to us with huge buckets. I guess they wanted to show me the fish they’d caught. I forgot all about my bucket from earlier. I felt embarrassed and kicked it behind my foot. The fish in their buckets were super gross and bloody, so I looked at the guys instead. They were barefoot and had on swimming trunks and their skin was dripping wet like they’d just gone swimming. One of the guys had thick curly hair that looked just like medusa. There were little hairs all over his body, like snakes or something. The other guy was skinnier and had straight yellow hair that looked like it had never been cut.

Uncle Jack seemed to like talking to them more than I did. Grandma always said Uncle Jack needed more friends. I didn’t like listening to adults talk to each other. They always sounded fake. I was getting bored and wanted to try shooting again. Uncle Jack let me go and told me to shoot straight this time.

It wasn’t until I’d made it back to the shooting game that I realized I forgot to ask for more money. The stupid cyclops girl took all I had. I tried walking back to the end of the pier, but I couldn’t find Uncle Jack or the fishermen guys. There was a group of seagulls pecking at all the bloody bits left behind. That made me pretty sick, so I ran away. I think I told you I couldn’t stand gross stuff like that.

There was a bathroom in the back of the boardwalk by the parking lot. As I got closer, I recognized one of the fishermen guys from the pier. It was the skinny one with the yellow hair. He didn’t seem to notice me at all. He was leaning against the wall chatting with some older guy I’d never seen before. I figured Uncle Jack could be inside. I walked in without anyone noticing.

That was my first mistake. I’ve always hated bathrooms. The ones by the beach are the worst. They smell sour and there’s always something dirty about them. When I walked in, there was the medusa-headed guy from the pier. I noticed his curls right away. He was still shirtless, but this time his trunks were pulled down to his ankles. His butt was naked and facing me. It was a pale white compared to his tanned skin. He was standing in the corner, and another guy was crouched on the floor like he was searching for pennies. It didn’t take me looking very long to see that it was Uncle Jack. I looked only a second before I knew I shouldn’t be seeing what I was seeing.

My next mistake was when I dropped my bucket. The curly haired guy turned around with a grunt and he looked back at me with big, scary eyes. Suddenly, I got this horrible feeling in my stomach. I must’ve pulled out my pistol. Or maybe I always had it in my hands. It was pointing straight ahead. My hands were shaking. I don’t know why I didn’t shoot. I’ve always had bad aim. Instead, I ran right out that door. If only I’d taken that shot. A real gunslinger always takes his shots.

When I ran outside, a gust of wind blew off my cowboy hat. I heard my name being called from behind me. The skinny guy was still outside, and he was making some kind of frown with his lips. I wanted to kick him. I ran after my hat and chased it all over the parking lot. It kept going past all these people, but it’s like they didn’t even see me. It kept blowing and blowing and I kept running and running until it settled right on the beach by the shore. The waves were bigger now. I went in anyway. It wasn’t until the cool water hit my ankles that I realized there were tears in my eyes. My hat rolled under a wave, then another, and before I knew it, the thing was swept away for good.

I still don’t believe what happened next. I guess I never will. A jellyfish stung me. The lifeguard said afterwards that these things happen. I never saw it, only felt it. Apparently it was already dead. They can do that sometimes, sting you when they’re dead. Like they’re sending a message after they’re gone. I guess that’s kind of cool. There was something sharp that stabbed my foot like some kind of hot needle. I must have started to scream. There were tears in my eyes, and I felt close to drowning.

Suddenly, there were arms around me. It was Uncle Jack. He had the lifeguard with him. They laid me down on the sand and poured water on my foot. I felt exposed in the sun without my hat, and I realized I left my bucket back in the bathroom. All I had was that silly gun. The lifeguard was glowing in the sunlight and kept repeating all these science terms to make me feel better. This is a jellyfish medusa, he said. This is how they sting you, he said. I still don’t know what any of it means. Uncle Jack was rubbing my shoulder with a towel. It’s okay, he said. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. And through my tears, I saw that he was crying, too.

I can’t really remember what happened next. Eventually we drove home. I sat in silence as Uncle Jack told me a story about how he broke his arm stealing apples from his neighbor’s yard. I didn’t really know what he was getting at, and I don’t think he did either. He must’ve been trying to cheer me up, because he said something about finishing that movie we started. Then I fell asleep. Uncle Jack carried me inside at some point, and when I woke up, Grandma was rubbing ice on my foot. It was hurting real bad, way more than it did at the beach. Uncle Jack made popcorn and we all sat on the couch to finish Shane. I liked most of it, but I wasn’t too big on the ending. I got annoyed when that kid started crying for Shane to come back. It should’ve had a happy ending. Movies aren’t supposed to be sad.

BIO: Oliver Cubillos is a writer and filmmaker from Los Angeles, California. He holds a BFA in Media Arts Production with a minor in literature from Emerson College. His work is published or forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, BULL Magazine, Free Flash Fiction, and Bright Flash Literary Review.