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annoyance because her shorts were way too short right now; the bottoms of her pockets were visible beneath the frayed edges of denim. He definitely wasn’t interested in babysitting Charlotte this summer. He had to focus on training for upcoming surfing contests.
                  “Dad, you gotta check out my new Rebel board,” Wes said with excitement. Beau had surfed throughout his youth, and while he had never gone pro, he had maintained his affinity for the sport, which meant that he was completely behind their career choice. That was one thing their parents had united over: making sure to take his and Abel’s dream seriously and providing every resource available to enable them to pursue it.
                  “Shortboard?”
                  “Yeah. If the waves are good, I’ll probably take it out later. Oh, and there’s a new surf shop in Marina, too. Old guy runs it and he has tons of stories. You’ll love him.” It was an unspoken strategy between him and Abel. To maintain peace for as long as possible, Pa and Ma Elliott had to be separated intermittently or whenever the opportunity allowed. He gave a subtle nod to Abel, who nodded back.
    Only a few days.
                  “Sounds good!” His dad beamed and clapped him on the back. “I’m hungry. I’m sure your mother and cousin are, too. Lots of great restaurants around. Let’s go eat!”
                  The rest of the day, Wes shuttled his dad around Marina Del Rey surf shops while remaining in close contact with Abel over text message to coordinate keeping their parents apart until the absolute last moment that they could not. That moment came late in the afternoon when his dad began to nod off and yawn even when Wes was blasting music to the capacity of his subwoofers. Wes released a breath full of dread when they got back home and he parked parallel to Abel’s car, but the day faded into night without an argument—or a word—between their parents. Wes ended up on the foldout couch that night, early, having given up his room to Charlotte until his parents left the guestroom. He awoke much later, startled by the dragging sound of the sliding glass door to the patio. After massaging out the sharp pain in his neck, he pulled on a shirt and walked to the door. His mom was out there, sitting in one of the chairs.
    “Mom?” Wes said after he pulled the sliding glass door open, and her shoulders tensed. He saw her wipe her face before she turned around and smiled at him. “Are you crying?”
    “No…” But he saw the slight tremble of her lip, and Wes didn’t know which of the emotions ripping through his chest would tear out first, sadness or anger. Crying parents were up there with dental work and small children in terms of things he loathed.
    “Yeah, you are. What’s up?” He draped his arms around her neck and felt her body quiver against his. He sucked in a deep breath that sent the faint smell of wine into his nostrils. It was settled. Anger. Anger beat out the sadness. This is bullshit. This shit they’re doing to each other is fucking bullshit. 
    She pulled away, still shaking with sniffles as Wes sat. “Just thinking, sweetie. You and Abel have done really well for yourselves. I love that you two are so close. You’re still so young and the world…you have the entire world ahead of you at twenty-four…”
    “Mom…” Wes picked up a half-empty wine bottle near her feet. It was from his and Abel’s expensive stash.
    “I wanted to be a doctor. A pediatrician. And then…” She looked in the direction of the beach, and he caught the glimmer of tears. “I don’t regret you and Abel. You know that, right?”
    “Of course.” Wes heard the staleness in his own voice, but she didn’t seem to pick up on it, thankfully. He had no doubt that she loved them; though, any time a conversation needed a disclaimer like that, he got a sinister feeling about what he wasn’t being