A Song for Julia

wall between us and the beach. It was a popular place to sit and watch the water.
    Julia was already standing at the wall. She was hunched over a little, arms wrapped around her chest, trying to stay warm.
    “Okay,” she said, “so … why are we here?”
    Because I’m impulsive? I didn’t have a clear answer for that question. I looked out at the water. The waves were high, coming in with heavy whitecaps and crashing up the beach. The sound of it was nearly overpowering, even in this awful wind. The sky was shadowed with roiling black clouds coming in from the northeast. Nor’easter coming in. It was exhilarating, fantastically beautiful, like something you’d see in a fantasy movie. The nearest teenagers were far enough down the beach that while facing the water, we had absolute seclusion. I finally answered her.
    “You didn’t mean to … but you accidentally shared something about yourself earlier. And I wanted to tell you something about me. This is where I used to come at night … when I was in trouble, or got in fights with my dad, or just couldn’t take the pressure and craziness at home any more. My parents weren’t bad—they were doing their best, but the situation couldn’t be fixed, and it was making them crazy. So I’d come here. Look out at the waves. I feel grounded here.”
    She shivered and I said, “Let me block some of the wind.” I put an arm around her. She didn’t move, didn’t respond … didn’t lean into me or away from me. It was as if she were frozen. A few snowflakes had fallen, and I could see more coming down over the beach.
    “Something about the water, the waves, the wind, the sheer hugeness of it all … it makes me feel like I have a place in this world. A small place, but it’s mine.”
    She slowly shook her head. “I don’t like the way it feels. It’s wild, out of control.”
    That made me pause. I hadn’t thoroughly examined my own motives in bringing her here. But it certainly hadn’t been to make her uncomfortable.
    I sighed. “I’m sorry. If you want to go, let’s go.”
    “What do you want from me, Crank?” Her voice was raw, desperate.
    I looked at her. She was so close, but might as well have been a thousand miles away. I said, “I want you to love me.”
    “I don’t even know you.”
    “Then I’ll settle for a date. Bowling?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Did you really just say that?”
    “I meant every word of it.”
    “I don’t understand you. Is this how you get girls in bed?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “So what’s different?” She was starting to shiver.
    “I’m not trying to get you in bed. Well … I am. But not just temporarily.”
    She shook her head, then looked out toward the ocean, her eyes wide as she watched the waves coming in. “I like you, Crank. But I can’t be involved with you.”
    “One date. That’s all I’m asking. Surely you’ve dated since you’ve been in college. I know you went out with that English putz.”
    She nodded. “Yes, I’ve dated.”
    “Any long term?”
    She took a deep breath. “I was with a guy for two years. We broke up last spring.”
    “Why?” I asked.
    “He asked me to marry him.”
    I swallowed and looked out at the snow. “I don’t get it.”
    “He asked me to marry him. I thought we were … not that serious. Honestly, I really didn’t like him that much. I feel awful, but when he asked me to marry him, I broke up with him.”
    “Jesus, Julia. Why did you stay with him so long if you weren’t serious?”
    She looked down at the ground. It was hard to figure out her expression. “Because he didn’t scare me. There wasn’t so much … messy emotion. We’d go out, have fun. I didn’t expect anything more.”
    “What the hell happened to you that you’re so afraid of feeling something?”
    She pulled away from me. “I don’t discuss that. Ever.”
    “All right.”
    She took a few steps away from me. “That night in Washington—why did you leave?”
    “I told you then.”
    “Tell me now.”
    I leaned my head back, looked up at the falling snow. It was starting to come down harder.
    “I left because I was hoping for something more. I sleep with girls all the time, and what’s the frickin’ point? They’re gone in the morning, and it was all fun and games, but maybe I’m … maybe I need something that means something.”
    She shook her head, looking baffled. “Can we get out of this snow? I hate snow.”
    “Um … sure. Come on.”
    We got back