Poor Zach | 30 June 2022
“Don’t Stand So Close to Me” was echoing out of the dusty jukebox in Chuck’s Tavern as Tonya stumbled out with the best-looking tourist at the bar, poor Zach.
BNR Response
Tonya reached to grab Zach’s left tricep so she could lift first one foot, then the other, to remove the cork wedges she’d been wearing since early that morning. Having spent all day pouring wine at the Meyer Lemon Festival, and drinking her fair share as well, she squinted up at the pink in the sky with surprise and gratitude that the hours were so plentiful on this wonderful day.
“Follow me,” Tonya beckoned spontaneously, the thought just occurring to her, “Let’s head down here to the beach to watch the sunset.” Zac followed eagerly, but without solid footfall. He had stopped in Santa Barbara during a weeks-long bike tour originating in Tahoe and settling in Ojai. He was spending most of his time in the Central Valley admiring the bounty the area had produced: favoring their beautiful women and the art of grape fermentation.
Zach followed Tonya down a narrow breezeway between two homes, each with their own high wooden perimeter fencing, abalone shells dangling like jewelry and lightly clinking in the wind. Suddenly they emerged onto a stretch of fine white sand and unobstructed views of the coastline from West Mesa, past Hope Ranch, and on up to Goleta.
Despite her wearing a scant sundress, Tonya plonked herself down in the sand without reservation and rifled through her straw tote, eventually presenting a pair of worn, maize-colored low-top Converse. This chick was full of surprises.
They’d met earlier that day at the wine booth, though neither of them had expectation nor motive for the way the rest of their encounter would unfold. Despite their obvious age differences, they hit it off chatting about the good swell expected at high tide and commenting on the live music emanating from the bandstand down the way. When the festival wrapped up, he helped her undo her apron and return the remaining souvenir wine glasses to their cardboard honeycomb. They’d walked down Meigs Road through the Mesa with a bunch of other festival volunteers, all locals, until the street dead-ended at Chuck’s. They raised pony neck beers, celebrating the end of the drought and their good fortune for living in paradise. Lifelong friends and new acquaintances alike shared a few carefree spins around the dancefloor, a familiar rotation of 80s songs calling everyone to sing along and laugh with abandon at each other and themselves. Zach was the subject of a fair amount of ribbing, as he was on true local turf and with a very local crowd. It didn’t help that he was in his early 30’s and had attached himself to Tonya, an elusive 40’s something stunner who rarely tolerated the company of anyone even remotely carrying the whiff of a suitor. Poor Zach.
So here they sat, the warmth of the sand quickly fading as the sun dipped down underwater, chatting away. “It feels so weird to be out at night!” Tonya sighed, looking around the darkening sky with wonder, then quickly noticing a look of confusion and surprise on Zach’s unwrinkled face. “Oh!” Tonya closed her eyes shut as she explained, “I have a kid, he’s eight, so I don’t get out much…yeah.” She started to laugh as she listened to herself, how odd this must sound to a guy who was still such a kid himself. She was proud of where she was, who she was, all she had accomplished, so she was surprised at the embarrassment creeping in here…she eschewed it and rose up, dusting herself off and pulling her tote up on her shoulder.
“C’mon, let’s take a walk.”
They meandered back up towards civilization, to where the festival had been a bustling mile-long block party just hours before. The smells in the night air were intoxicating. Sawdust and a warm rotary blade as they passed a bungalow whose front gate was being repaired. Manufactured lilac and steamy cotton at the laundromat. Spilled wine, charcoal, and wet asphalt as they hosed down around the food tents. Then, chlorine and night-blooming jasmine as they passed the neighborhood’s old 1950’s motor lodge motel. Peering over the fence at eye-level, Tonya continued listening to Zach’s story of his bike adventures, only interrupting to ask him to hold her bag. “What was your favorite part of SLO?” She asked, hiking her skirt up and positioning a foot at the backer rail before straddling the fence and reaching an arm down to an unsuspecting Zach. “Um, haha, what are you doing?” he stage-whispered. “Let’s go swimming!” Tonya said, like a college kid sneaking into the country club after curfew. Without waiting, she disappeared as she dropped to the other side. He scoffed and looked from side to side, searching for witnesses who could help him determine what to do next. Finding no one, he stared down at her tote for an answer and suddenly heard a splash. He felt he had no choice but to follow her, so he put her bag in his backpack and hopped the fence.
The pool deck was surprisingly sleek: little did Zach know that mid-century spots like this were seeing a resurgence. The influx of cash helped Jose, who was Tonya’s age and the newer generation motel owner, refurbish the place to its previous splendor. The lagoon-shaped pool was clean and well-stocked. Yellow striped pool loungers were intermingled with tiffany-blue canvas umbrellas. Towels and beach balls were stacked neatly at the pool attendant stand next to an original tallboy Coleman cooler. Jose hollered, “Now wait a minute,” as he stalked out onto the concrete, knowing the only way to the water was to pass him on the interior. “Tonya! How you doin’, girlie?” He chuckled heartily, “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I had a whole pack of Bobcats in here last week, damn high schoolers, got all my towels wet. Had me doing laundry all night.” He paused, looking beyond Tonya, “You two need anything? Alooooone time?” He raised his eyebrows in a teasing way as he watched Zach, who had removed his shirt and shoes but was now working on shedding his pants. Poor Zach. Tonya threw a smirk in Jose’s direction, and he ducked back inside.
The water was surprisingly warm, but still had a cooling effect after such a balmy day. Day drinking in hot weather has a special way of wearing you out, and they soaked up the relief provided by this water, this night, this company. Their conversation continued, ranging from more talk of surf and music to travel and their plans for the future. At one point, not long into their swimming adventure, Tonya hopped out of the pool and strode confidently over to the tallboy cooler. Zach was struck by her confidence: mismatched underwear and bra clinging to her body like paint, hair in a half-wet scraggly ponytail, Tonya looked more comfortable in her skin than anyone he’d ever seen. She reached into the Coleman, and, turning with a wink and a click of the tongue, presented two popsicles and two beers as the fruits of her pursuit. “Think fast!” she said and tossed one of each to Zach, who caught one but not the other. Tonya grabbed the floating beer as she waded slowly back into the water, steam rising off of her limbs and the motion sensor lights creating a backlit silhouette around her frame. They drank the beers and sunk down to their chins, talking and giggling like kids up past bedtime. Who was this woman, and how the hell could he keep up with her? Poor Zach.
After they finished their treats, they got dressed once again and exited through the motel back out onto the small neighborhood streets leading to Santa Barbara proper. It was dark now and the temperature was dropping. They walked and talked for what felt like hours and arrived at a small house with a picket fence and terra cotta walls and Spanish shingle roof. Tonya unlatched the gate and started down a side walkway that led to the back of the cottage. Zach tried to piece the next part of their adventure together…was she going to sneak into a friend’s home? She was just wild enough to do it and he had no doubt she could pull it off. She motioned with a wag of her finger for him to follow, and when they arrived at the glass door at the back, he was surprised to see her produce a key from her bag. “Oh!” he whispered, “This must be goodnight, then!”
“What in the world could have ever made you so cautious and so untrusting of yourself at such a young age?” Tonya teased, unlocking the door. “Come in!” she matched his whisper with one of her own.
“But…your son?”
“At a sleepover.” Tonya said, raising her eyebrows and stepping inside alluringly, “C’mon, handsome, I’m not even nearly done with you yet.”
Poor Zach.