Read From The Dead for Free Online Page B

pointed out the moment her
cherry-red painted toenails touched the ivory sand. She preferred
to drive further north to a wealthier, less populated area, but
today Jesse needed to watch the passersby, to connect with their
carefree contentment.
    Once they located an open patch of beach, Jesse and
Jada spread their blankets on the granular surface and lay down.
Side by side, they basked behind sunglasses in the shimmering sun.
Jada propped her head against her beach bag and immersed herself in
a script for the following day.
    Jesse inhaled the fresh, salted air. As he peered up
at the Santa Monica Pier that stretched overhead, he watched
visitors stroll past souvenir shops and street performers, the
snack rotunda and carnival rides—and the ancient Ferris wheel
which, when afire with neon light in the evenings, appeared forever
cursed with a burned-out bulb tube.
    Jesse savored the warmth as it penetrated his skin
and caked a layer of crusted sand upon his feet. A light breeze
danced about, which tickled Jesse’s hair and neck. He gazed at the
water as it hurled back and forth. From the corner of his eye, a
flash of motion lured his attention to a father and son, who
frolicked on the shore. The toddler, dressed in tiny,
fluorescent-green board shorts, giggled and hopped in circles along
the shoreline. His father grasped him by his pudgy underarms. He
lifted him a foot above the surface, then set him back on the wet
sand, which sent the child splashing into a fit of laughter.
    Transfixed by the father-child relationship that
unfolded before him, a subtle smile quivered at the edge of Jesse’s
mouth.
    Jesse nudged Jada. “Look at that,” he said, then
pointed to the pair at play.
    Jada remained engrossed in her reading. She peered
over her sunglasses for a split second without so much as a tilt of
the head, then returned to her script. “What about them?”
    “That kid looks just like his dad, don’t you
think?”
    Indifferent, Jada peered up again, then back down.
“You’re right, same features head to toe—but the kid’ll outgrow his chubby ass.”
    Intrigued, Jesse looked past the outward, physical
qualities to study their actions and reactions: gentle hands that
touched the boy’s head; the father’s arms around his son, which
communicated affection and protection at the same time. The scene
formed an indelible imprint on Jesse’s heart, a photograph within
his soul.
    “I wonder how that dad felt the day his son was
born,” Jesse said. “Maybe he felt anxiety leading up to the day,
but then a sense of relief.” Jesse longed to know the answers; his
heart reached out for them. “The moment when that guy looked at his
kid and said, ‘This is my son. This kid is a part of me.’ It
must’ve blown him away.”
    Jada ignored them. Typical Jada: What was there to
see? A man and his kid playing at the beach. Big deal. Jesse
sniffed at how two people could perceive the same thing in opposite
ways.
    Jesse turned to her and asked, “Haven’t you changed
your mind about having kids someday?”
    She sighed. “No, I haven’t. How many times do you
intend to bring this up?”
    “We’ll be in our forties before we know it. Don’t you
think you’ll look back and wish we’d made a different
decision?”
    “Look, you know I haven’t budged on this since the
day we met. Besides, what would I do with a kid? Even I have enough
sense to know I’d screw that deal up.”
    Taken aback by the decisiveness in her reply, Jesse
returned his gaze to the little toddler, who now picked up random
shells and showed the prizes to his father.
    Jada put down the script. Shallow creases wiggled
along her forehead. “You always said you didn’t want kids either.
We talked about that early on: no long-term anything—no baby, no
marriage. We both wanted our careers, remember?”
    “Sure.” Jesse shrugged, an attempt at passivity. “But
back then I was what, nineteen? Twenty? The thought of fatherhood
freaked me out at the time: