Lime Juice Money

Lime Juice Money
LAELIA
Waves
Caye Caulker, Belize
8th January 2023

I lied to him that day, for the first time, and it sparkled off my tongue as sweet as popping candy. He didn’t even know; didn’t catch it. And I hadn’t planned to, not really. It just fell out of my mouth, and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was shame. Was it shame? Or something stronger? A pre-emptive move, because women have that kind of sixth sense, don’t they? Jacobson’s organ. I read about that once, in one of Dad’s New Scientist magazines. How females are predisposed to listen to their gut; how we can sense fear like we’re about to be fed it. 

***

A heavy grit-grey appeared as if from nowhere on the horizon. Near the jetty Ella and Dylan were running in and out of the waves, embroidering footprints in the sand. The low, ebbing offbeats of reggae backdropped my tinnitus – a little, though I could still feel its pulsations. They were never not there. The audiologist had told me to ignore them, the crazed sounds in my head, but it’s impossible to hear nothing when you’re listening for silence. 

            Soundless breaths teased the fronds above us, their shadows dancing grey upon the sand – grittier than I remembered it – smaller too; the beach a gentle hem dotted with picnic benches, clam chairs, and slack hammocks. The kids were splashing at each other now, threading in and out of the sea, up and down the shore. The breeze kissing salty-sweet with their giggles, they seemed to just slide into this place, leave the sludge of London behind. 5,200 miles of relaxed.

Aid had been distracted since we’d got here, tense. I’d asked him over breakfast if he was nervous about meeting Dad, but he insisted that he wasn’t. Got annoyed with me for the interrogation. He barely ate any of his pancakes though, left most of his coffee. 

Lying next to me on the sand, he rested back on his elbows, his foot tapping a rhythm to the music in his ears I couldn’t hear. I knew he was going to freak out about the money. It would be best to tell him about Marianne later, over a drink or a joint, when we were all a bit more relaxed. A pelican crawked, eyeing up the fish below as it padded along the jetty. 

Aid pulled his Airpods out of his ears. ‘When are we meeting him?’ His New England accent felt stronger than usual. 

‘We need to check with Chloe,’ I said. ‘She’s got it all figured out.’ 

‘Of course she has.’ He grinned as he started rolling a cigarette. ‘Chloe’s always got everything all figured out.’

I grabbed the sun cream, started rubbing it into my arms. ‘To be fair, she has organised the whole thing.’

‘Yeah, she has. I just reckon your dad might want to meet me first, before being surprised by all and sundry.’ 

‘She wants to do it like that… Thinks it will be more fun.’ I threw the sun cream bottle down. ‘Are you sure you’re not nervous?’ I smiled. 

‘Stop asking me that. I told you I’m not… I don’t know why you don’t stand up to your sister more.’ 

‘It’s easier this way,’ I said.

‘Maybe. Just let’s not stay on too long. Once we’re done with the party, let’s get back to the mainland. Hit the south, like we said. The beaches are better there.’