I loved going to the beach every year. I loved the beach from the very first time my toes sank in the sand. Every weekend I begged my mom to take my brother and I to the beach since it was only a short fifteen-minute drive away. She was a freelance writer who often whisked away for stories and interviews, but was able to schedule her work around us. Which was lucky for everyone involved since we didn’t have much money left over at the end of the month and no one knew where Stan and I’s father was. He had dropped in and out of our lives over the years and often disappeared without a trace.
“Beach!” My mom yelled down the hallway as soon as she got back from the grocery store. It was our universal call to come running to the front door grabbing our beach bags on the way. Stan and I lived in our suits during the summer so there was no need to change, we just needed to grab our bags and jump in the car.
When we reached our usual beach and as I scanned the beach for any of our friends, I quickly became stuck on the front page of the newspaper everyone seemed to be reading. There was a black and white photo of our father on the front with a headline that shocked me. I blinked a few times, read it again and found it to be the same. MILLIONAIRE.
Standing Room Only 