Kat Meads
Weekend Events
The shore liners had recently feasted on crispy chicken, chutney deviled eggs and sandwiches stuffed with exquisite, redder-than-sunburn garden tomatoes. They had been lolling in folding chairs, under small and larger umbrellas, in the shadow of the pier or on shadeless sandy towels when their collective attention was drawn to the alarming sight of one of their own in an oversized inner tube, apparently asleep and drifting out to sea. Her name was Flora, though everyone called her Sis, and besides coming to community picnics at the beach, she drove a school bus and, as needed, helped ladle food mush onto beige plastic plates for always starving kids. No one had a harsh word to say against Sis; equally true, Sis lived short on compliments—which is a far cry from saying her absence would not be noticed if in her skirted swimsuit she dozed her way to the middle of the ocean, meaty toes dragging, and attracted a feeding shark. A faster-than-the-company-he-kept reactor broke from the line-up of spectators to sprint as fast as sucking sand allowed to the pier office to telephone the Coast Guard. Meanwhile, the more courteous fishermen along Sis’s side of the pier reeled in their lines to prevent hooking Sis or her inner tube, either development a catastrophe. One fisherman later claimed to have shouted “Lady! Lady! Wake up! The current stole you!”—in support of his claim that he’d contributed more to the Saving Sis Operation than his fellow fishermen. Whether he did or didn’t call out, Sis slept on, dreaming about who knew what. Maybe crispy chicken or weightless flight or spiky bob jacks. As the shore liners kept watch on Sis and her inner tube, someone wondered how it would feel to drift so far beyond the breakers, surrounded by the immensity that was ocean, a mere rubber circle between you and its depths, and because that someone wondered aloud another of the shore liners fell into a fit of nagging envy, her heart and mind suddenly flooded with the desire to close her eyes and float away. You’ll be wondering whether Sis’s predicament ends with rescue or disappearance, but for the nonce stay with the suspense, endure the uncertainty, make peace with either outcome—because it very well could have flexed either way. This time, with one minor hiccup, it went the way of rescue. Startled awake by the CG’s approach, Sis’s sleep-befogged brain initially mistook her saviors for pirates (she’d in fact been dreaming of gold doubloons) and in reaction attempted to paddle even farther out to sea. Undaunted, professionally resolute, the CG gave chase, overtook Sis and her inner tube, hauled both woman and inflatable aboard and saved yet another civilian from oblivion and sharks. Aside from that single blip of panic and a more painful than usual sunburn, Sis survived the outing unaffected and in good spirits, returning on Monday to her bus driving and lunchroom assisting duties. But the shore liner who’d discovered envy in her heart, watching Sis float free and unencumbered out to sea? Different story. She’d caught a glimpse of her shadow life. Never would she be the same.
In addition to Does It Have Pockets, Kat Meads's recent flash fiction has appeared in Maudlin House, Gone Lawn, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Your Impossible Voice and elsewhere. She lives in California. katmeads.com
