By Liz Lydic
Coming from Michigan, Janis thought she knew the beach. On the evening before her flight, while chatting on the phone, she told her best friend Catherine, “Lakes are basically beaches.”
“I don’t know how you can say that without ever having been here,” said Catherine.
Catherine's bragging about the smell of the ocean was becoming grating.
“I mean, what’s so great about saltwater?” Janis held the phone between her ear and shoulder as she packed and then repacked into her rolling suitcase the most L.A.-like shoes she owned: jeweled flip-flops with delicate heels.
Catherine sighed. “Just get here.”
Janis wanted to be excited. Los Angeles, from all of those TV shows, was beautiful. The way Malibu looked in the ads, the Hollywood sign in MTV videos. But to get there Janis needed to fly, and she hadn't been on a plane in decades. She'd read online that she'd have to take her shoes off at check-in, and she might be charged if her carry-on bag was too big. And there were the horror stories she’d heard about Southern California: the traffic, the shark attacks, the surfboards. Could she be hit on the head by one if it flew out of the water?
#
Janis’ plane sat for forty-five minutes at LAX. The muffled explanation from the captain included something about taxiing but Janis noted the plane did nothing but idle. She sat with the other restless passengers in the stifling cabin, waiting for more information, which she never got. Figures, she thought. Probably a shark on the runway.
Catherine greeted her at baggage claim wearing a light, short-sleeved sundress in the middle of October.
“Do you always dress like that?” Janis asked, thinking about home, how graying snow clumped in hard patches would soon require many layers.
Catherine stepped back, “This is my winter outfit!” She laughed.
Janis raised an eyebrow.
“Kidding,” said Catherine. “But it is actually kind of cold for LA. High sixties, I think. Fall is usually very warm; it'll probably heat up at noon.”
Janis caught a whiff of Catherine's perfume, that spiky, flowery one that instantly brought Janis back to the days they had worked together, before Catherine shifted careers. Janis couldn't remember if it was Estee Lauder or Elizabeth Taylor, but Catherine wore it religiously. Now the scent was mixed with coconut sunscreen.
Catherine insisted on wheeling Janis' suitcase for her. Janis noticed the softness in Catherine's upper arm where there was once definition, like her own. If she wasn't mistaken, Catherine leaned on the suitcase handle slightly as she walked, leading Janis to the airport parking lot. It took Catherine several shifts of her body to get comfortable in her car's driver seat.
Janis had a pull of guilt for how long it’d been since they’d seen each other. Catherine had invited her so many times, starting with the day she packed her car to move to California, and on every phone call since. But Janis, unable to end her loop of anxiety about travel and all those things she'd heard about L.A., had always declined. Until now, having been hit hard by a conversation with her daughter who pointed out, in so many words, that Janis was getting closer to an age when a trip like this would be altogether impossible, not just uncomfortable. Janis told herself she was in great shape to travel and be active for a lot longer, that early sixties was not close to old. But somewhere deep down she wasn’t fooled, and so the next time Catherine called Janis agreed to come.
“I can't wait to see where you live,” Janis said. She wanted to ask Catherine to take her to the world-famous In-N-Out restaurant, but was hesitant to ask. In the past, Janis had always taken the lead on their activities, always with a plan, always with an idea. But here, the rules were less clear.
It was twenty more minutes before they exited the parking garage. The cars merging, stopping and honking were overwhelming. Her head swirled, every car closing in on them, coming at Catherine’s Prius, not necessarily with speed as with hostility.
“Jesus!” Janis’ butt lifted as she recoiled back when a Hummer came up quickly and close, on the right side, trying to pass. The man in the driver’s seat wore a Bluetooth, and was leaning hard against the steering wheel.
“Asshole,” muttered Catherine, who purposely didn’t let him over. Janis’ mouth dropped in shock at the word; even when Catherine was divorcing Rich she’d never called him that, though everyone else did.
“Wow,” said Janis.
“I know. That’s L.A.” said Catherine with a shrug.
Janis opened her mouth to start to joke that it looked like Catherine had easily assimilated to an L.A. attitude, but she was stopped by the sight of the towering palm trees lining the street where they emerged suddenly from the airport tunnel. The grayness and concrete of LAX were replaced quickly by blue sky, red and yellow billboards, and a glaring whiteness from the sun. Catherine adjusted her car visor and deftly pulled down her sunglasses, as Janis fumbled in her purse for the cheap pair she bought from the pharmacy the day before the trip. L.A. was disorienting. It didn’t feel like Fall at all. She thought of her townhouse in Michigan. The sweet potted flowers on the walkway to her front door would deplete slowly in the coming weeks as winter approached.
But Janis was here now, with Catherine, and she should make the best of it.
“How’s work?” Janis asked. She knew just mentioning the word would kickstart their conversation.
Catherine sighed. “Oh, lord. What a place. Only two years, ten months and fifty-three days left, though.” She smiled. “I have one of those retirement apps.”
Janis laughed, not quite buying that Catherine was so unhappy at work. The idea that she'd taken to using an app to count down her days conflicted with the fact that Catherine had always seemed proud about her change from school admin to local government. She bragged about being the first one at her desk in the morning, and the last one in the office in the evening. She had won “Employee of the Year” more than once. “I thought you liked your new City Manager?"
“Doesn't matter, I don’t give a shit. I’ll try…maybe…to keep the Clerk’s office in good shape until then, like I did when I left Grand Rapids. But I’m not doing anything outside my job scope. I’m so over ambition. That’s the younger me.” She laughed, as she stopped abruptly--and close--to the Honda Civic in front of her. The traffic was suddenly slowing as cars entered the airport tunnel.
“The Michigan you,” Janis said.
“The Michigan me,” Catherine agreed, “But what about you? I think the last time we really talked, you were getting asked to be the Teacher Association —" Catherine’s question was cut short by a car cutting in front of them sharply to make the right turn. Catherine laid on her horn for several seconds. The catching-up moment had officially passed.
#
The beach, Catherine had insisted would be their first stop after the airport, was called Tower at Pier, or T.A.P. Janis shook her head as Catherine explained it was a nickname in the South Bay town, an identity for what part of the large stretch of shore on which it was situated. The name wasn't to be overthought Putting aside the need for more logic, Janis planted her feet and looked around. The beach was stunning. So were the sleek homes that bordered it from north to south. Floor to ceiling glass, inviting balconies, ADT security signs dotting the elaborate walkways. The warm sand was full of elaborate villages made of wagons, easy-ups and towels.
Janis placed a towel down. She stooped to spread out each corner, and then re-peel it from where the breeze repeatedly folded it inward. Catherine set up the low-sitting beach chair she’d worn on her back on the walk down to this spot. She was currently rubbing sunscreen on her face roughly. A couple was walking in their direction. Janis froze, afraid they might want something from her, and if they did, wondered if they would act aggressively. She looked at the lifeguard tower and was alarmed that she saw no one inside. Janis felt a heat in her hands. People in Michigan didn't walk so close to strangers, but this couple was headed right toward Janis and Catherine with no sign of rerouting.
“But if we look at it through that lens, we wouldn’t want to wait for the market,” the man in the cargo shorts and an Old Guys Rule t-shirt was saying. The woman wore a tie-dyed sundress and nodded in agreement. Little tufts of sand kicked up from the couple's heels and lightly sprayed Janis' towel. The couple continued past, chatting in long, lilting sentences.
Janis let out a deep sigh of relief. Now able to relax, she saw that, in the ocean, black dots at the water’s surface floated. Those must be the infamous killer sharks, Janis thought. But Catherine claimed that they were just surfers.
Janis shuddered intentionally. "Seems dangerous. How could someone have a hobby like that, when they could get attacked by...anything?"
“I don't know. There's a lot of surfers, and they are die-hard about it. But we don’t really associate the dangers with the sport that much.”
Janis looked at Catherine, then again to the ocean, noticing Catherine's use of the word “we”.
“Yeah, that's probably just something an old Midwestern hag would panic about, ocean animals.” She feigned a laugh, but it was enough to convince California Catherine.
A handful of moms with toddlers in tow were heel-digging their way further from the soft sand and closer to the shoreline where Catherine and Janis were situated. The distracted toddlers in the prolonged procession were all wearing elaborate sun-protective wetsuits or rash guards, falling on their doughy knees to scoop sand, uncover rocks, and--more than once--hold up something they’d found, to which a California mom — lean, lithe or chiseled—would lazily say, “That’s trash, sweetie, put that down.” Moms in Michigan were not like that; they were stocky, wholesome, thick-forearmed. They had simple haircuts, not impractical, fresh-from-the-salon ones.
Janis turned behind her toward her tote to retrieve the folder of papers to grade that she had packed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a woman, muscular, short, and exotic-looking doing a handstand. Janis stayed too long looking over her shoulder, and when she jerked back into position, she felt a twinge in her neck which radiated down her spine. It was a familiar pain that came and went frequently, starting about five years ago, and to which her doctor had diagnosed as “a normal ache associated with aging.” She shifted her body inconspicuously so she was half-facing the woman and half-facing Catherine, and tried stretching her neck a few times.
“Catherine,” whispered Janis. “There’s a woman doing handstands behind us.”
“Hmm?” said Catherine. She looked up from scrolling on her phone to see where Janis was gazing. “Oh, maybe she’s famous. She’s probably an influencer, doing something for likes. There’s a girl on TikTok who’s into calisthenics, stuff like that.”
Janis scrunched her eyebrows. “Like Jane Fonda?”
Catherine laughed again. “No. Actual cool stuff. Things she can do with her body. Pull ups, and like, bend her arms and make herself into a flat plank.”
“You have TikTok?” asked Janis, looking back now and then at the handstand girl, who was now staring into a camera placed on a tripod and waving, three long-nailed fingers wiggling.
" I have an account. I follow certain things or people send me stuff and I watch them. I don't post things. I'm not a ‘TikTokker’.”
Janis didn't answer. She knew she was staring but couldn't stop herself. The camera meant that the woman was...performing? Janis grappled for the logic of the situation. The finished product, viewed online, is the woman's intended performance, she thought. On another hand, the woman was indeed performing at this beach, wasn't she? She was being viewed now, too, right?
"Let me show you," Catherine was saying, already swiping at her phone to show Janis some of her favorite videos.She then began narrating accounts, names and activities of her favorite influencers. Janis went for her purse to get her Kroger’s-brand readers, one of the two-for-one pairs she had picked up a few months ago. But Catherine was going so fast that Janis folded the glasses back in her purse and rotated back to watching the hand-stander. "Oh, ok," and "How interesting," Janis said to Catherine on autopilot.
The handstand girl was facing away from her camera in preparation for some kind of maneuver, beginning to arch her back as if to appear upside down in the shot. With her back turned, two men, just blobs of dark clothing, grabbed the hand-stander’s camera and tripod and then strode to the bike path, blending in with the other walkers in an instant.
Janis' eyebrows furrowed and she tried to interrupt Catherine, who was still going on about an influencer who did stop-motion videos on themed cupcakes but it was only when Catherine shoved her phone in front of Janis' face that Janis managed to say "Stolen," and point in the direction of the hand-stander.
Janis was tongue-tied. No one else seemed to have noticed what just happened, right there, in public! Janis’ adrenaline rose in a surge like it had when the plane had taken off. She'd give anything to be back on it now.
"Stolen," she said again, her eyes darting back and forth to confirm the missing camera and to notice that the girl's legs were in a straddle, an elongated “V” of dark muscles propped up on a sturdy, rippling front of biceps and abs. The girl still had no idea, .
Catherine finally looked up at Janis, having not seen the theft. “What are you talking about?”
"The handstand girl, she had a camera...guys...they just..." Janis could not draw in a deep breath, the air felt heavy on her face. The sky was too big now, too blue and too vast. The sunlight was white-hot again and unrelenting.
Catherine put her hand on Janis' back, "Hey, hey, Jan. Get some water. Here."
Catherine reached into her straw bag and extracted a sweating bottle of Arrowhead and handed it to Janis. Janis drank it quickly. She closed her eyes and breathed in, not seeing anything, but allowing the bake of the sun to lull her into non-complacence. Catherine didn't remove her hand from Janis' back, but slid it slowly up and down in pace with Janis' breath.
They had sat this way before, the time Catherine invited Janis to her house for a glass of wine and to say that Rich had moved out. Catherine had begun the announcement with the facts, the sequence of events that had led to a wedge in their marriage that could no longer be mended. Janis was shocked, but not worried. Catherine did everything on her own anyway. She would never become a woman in distress with sudden independence. Janis began to think of a nice way of telling Catherine that Rich leaving was a good thing, that Catherine was so much better than him. But when Catherine's tears came despite her fighting them, when her body heaved with sobs that Janis knew had been held in for so long, what Catherine needed right then wasn't words of support and loyalty that other people would give. Catherine just needed Janis' presence, a hand on her back to tell her she was safe and that everything would be all right.
Janis returned home to Michigan a week later, full of tacos and plans to live life in the Midwest with more of the beach “vibe.” She put Jimmy Buffet music on her playlist even though Catherine had explained that he was more of a Florida beach guy.
Janis and Catherine texted or emailed each other regularly after that. At first, it was simply Catherine updating Janis on what had happened to the handstand girl. Catherine had located her on TikTok, and sent Janis screen shots of an online monologue where the hand-stander addressed the people that criticized her for acting like she was suffering when she had not truly owned the stolen camera in the first place: it had been gifted by Canon and would be replaced. Others called the hand-stander a victim and some even a hero.
Janis and Catherine exchanged thoughts on the posts, then shared other life updates. This grew into a weekly Sunday evening telephone conversation, where Janis finally told Catherine that she had won the spot as the president of the Teacher Association, and she asked Catherine for advice on how to deal with some of the difficult board members. Catherine complied. And when Catherine complained about the Clerk’s office, Janis reminded Catherine to enjoy her last two years with her city, pointing out that back in Michigan, she could never walk on the beach every day on her lunch break like she could in her sunny California.
Janis thought about the hand-stander from time to time, and considered looking her up online, even considered getting a TikTok, but ultimately decided not to just in case Catherine and she were ever at a loss for words again.
Liz Lydic is a mom, writer, and local government employee in the Los Angeles area. She also does theatre stuff. lizlydic.com
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