A Walk to the Beach

When I get nervous, I make jokes. Today is no different. It’s the first week of my last year of college and I'm surrounded by about thirty people, most of whom I've never met before. We’re walking to Oak Street Beach. It’s a tradition that almost every one of the paired men and women’s floors do each year.

I was eighteen the first time I went, and the juniors and seniors had seemed so confident, striding ahead of me with their street knowledge and established friendships. Three years later, I wonder if I’m hiding my shaky hands and pounding heart as well as they did. You know those fish that wear bright colors to try and get the other fish to leave them alone? That's what I feel like right now.

I'm wearing a shocking magenta t-shirt that reaches past my knees (it misleads people into thinking that I attended something called The Illinois Homemaking Camp). Underneath that hot pink lie is my swimsuit, and beneath that shivers my rib cage. It's shaking so hard I'm certain the people around me can see me quiver, so I make my decision. If anyone tries to talk to me, I’ll distract them with some wisecracks, then divert the attention elsewhere.

A blond boy, face blurred by the dusk, settles his stride in step with mine, and my pulse jumps at the intrusion.

“Rachel, you ready for classes to start tomorrow?”

I do not know this boy’s name and cannot imagine where he might have learned mine. I tug my t-shirt down to cover a little more of my legs and try to forget that soon I’ll have to take it off. But now he’s waiting for an answer.

“Actually, I’m really nervous.”

“I like to learn, but school has been pretty challenging for me recently.”

“I’m apprehensive, but also excited! How about you?”

Those are all true responses. But instead, I choose:

“Pfft, the real question is are the classes ready for me to start?”

I can’t bring myself to look at him, but his shoulder bumps into mine as he shakes with a laugh. I flinch closer to the edge of the sidewalk.

In nature, bright colors scare off predators. In college, they draw a crowd. Soon I’m submerged in a small group of near-strangers, and my plan of listening on the sidelines is drowned. My heart kicks into overdrive, knocking against the bones in my chest, and my jokes keep pace. Nothing I say is very funny, but they're all laughing anyway. I feel my ribcage start to buckle.

In between my own awkward wit and the spikes of laughter surrounding me, I make out a few tones that hold steady. Caleb and Blaise’s long strides have put them just a little ahead of the rest of the group, so I deliver a closing line and wade through the crowd to catch up with them. Maybe they’re glad to have a little familiarity, too, because they accept me into their conversation with ease.

“Rachel! It’s good to see you! I like your shirt.” Blaise steps to the side to let me walk between the two of them.

“How was your summer?” Caleb wants to know.

They’re upperclassmen, too, and have made this trek to the beach many times. I wonder if they’re also trying to keep their voices steady, or if it’s just me.

“My summer? Oh, it was…” I search for what I should say.

“…challenging. I lived by myself and rarely spoke with my friends.”

“…beautiful. Almost every night after work I’d make myself a cup of tea and watch the sunset.”

“…hard. I had so much anxiety that some days it was hard to even get up.”

Saying any of those things would feel like having your towel drop on the way back from the pool. I settle for something safer.

“…fine. I worked, mostly.”

Blaise and Caleb smile politely, and I return their question, as is the rule. Blaise says something about a family vacation and working in the city, but I don’t listen to Caleb’s response. I’m too busy eyeing their swim trunks and wondering if they grew up with pools and lakes, or if they can remember their first time getting wet.

The moment passes and Caleb and Blaise goof around, making fun of each other with the familiarity that comes with candor. My laughter is coming just a little too frequently to be fully genuine and my heart has begun to press against my chest again. The cage around my heart is about to bust open, but just before it can, I turn the key.

"Have you guys faced any fears recently?"

This is not a question you’re supposed to ask on your way to the beach.

Caleb, however, does not seem deterred. His answer comes in one breath, with very little punctuation.

"Yeah, earlier today Hirl and I were playing frisbee and he threw it right into the bushes, so I said I would get it but when I got over there there were cobwebs everywhere, but I'd already said I would get it, right? So I went in the bushes and it felt like there were a million spiders crawling all over me and I can still feel them now!"

Caleb has to stop and pause for breath.

“How is it that someone can have the courage to wear socks with sandals on Michigan Ave, but be scared of some bugs?” Blaise wants to know.

Caleb gives Blaise a shove, and I can't help but join Blaise’s chuckles. The pressure in my chest retreats a little, and after a while, I pose my question to Blaise. His answer comes a little more slowly.

"You know, that's a good question. I guess, being an RA now, I've been having to confront a lot of people recently, and that's been hard."

Caleb and I give an understanding hum and fall into silence. We’ve both seen him in the back of the cafeteria, eating meals with people who storm off, leaving him still and staring at his plate of food.

We’re getting close to the beach now, going through a tunnel, and I jump a little as Caleb brushes my arm. He's walking as fast and as close to the center as he can, eyes deliberately avoiding the nests of webs and long legs above us on either side.

“Whaddabout you, Rachel?”

I glance away from the spiders eyeing Caleb’s hair and see Blaise looking at me.

“You mean—?”

“Yeah, what fears have you faced recently?”

The strap of my swimsuit is pulling at my shoulder, and I reach under the pink of my shirt collar to try and help the constriction.

I run through all the possible answers to that question, flick through my fears like an old photo book.

“Yesterday, when someone asked how I was doing, I looked her in the eye and let a tear fall down my cheek.”

“This morning, I got dressed as soon as I woke up instead of hiding under the covers until my roommate left.”

“A few minutes ago, my hands were shaking and I put on this shirt even though I knew that soon you would be able to see more skin than cloth and I’d be half-naked on a beach with strangers.”

They’re both waiting for me to answer. Underneath the pink t-shirt, my swimsuit holds me tight. I take a deep breath, in and out.

“Tonight I’m going to swim in Lake Michigan.”