Chapter Sixteen: BEACH DAY( ISLAND )
923 Words
Xenia
If there was one thing I had learned about Mr. Winslie, it was that he never did anything halfway.
Including vacations.
Which was how I found myself standing on a private island staring at the bluest water I had ever seen in my entire life.
A private island.
A whole island.
Just casually.
As if normal people woke up one morning and said, Let’s spend a week on my island.
Meanwhile, I still checked grocery prices before buying cereal.
Life was unfair.
“Nanny!”
I turned.
Kira was already halfway across the beach.
Again.
How such a tiny human could possess so much energy remained one of the world’s greatest mysteries.
“Slow down!”
“I’m being slow!”
She yelled this while actively sprinting.
A lie.
An obvious lie.
The ocean stretched endlessly before us, sparkling beneath the afternoon sun. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, and soft white sand warmed my feet.
For a moment, I simply stood there.
Taking it all in.
Beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful.
Back in Italy, the beaches had felt familiar.
Comforting.
This felt different.
Like stepping into a postcard.
A very expensive postcard.
“Nanny!”
I looked up again.
Kira was now standing ankle-deep in the water.
“When can we swim?”
“After sunscreen.”
Her face fell.
Every child’s greatest enemy.
Sunscreen.
Before she could argue, another voice spoke.
“Listen to Miss Kingsley.”
I turned.
Mr. Winslie approached from behind us.
Dark sunglasses.
Rolled-up sleeves.
Relaxed posture.
Well.
As relaxed as Mr. Winslie ever became.
Which still looked intimidating.
Kira sighed dramatically.
“Everybody is against me.”
“No.”
Mr. Winslie crouched beside her.
“We’re against sunburn.”
“Same thing.”
I laughed.
Kira pointed accusingly.
“See?”
“See what?”
“Nanny is laughing at me.”
“Probably because you’re being dramatic.”
She gasped.
“Betrayal.”
Mr. Winslie looked suspiciously amused.
For approximately two seconds.
Then his expression returned to normal.
I was beginning to suspect he smiled more than he realized.
He just hid it better than most people.
An hour later, after sunscreen negotiations had finally ended, Kira practically launched herself into the ocean.
I followed more slowly.
The water was warm.
Clear.
Perfect.
For the first time in months, I felt completely relaxed.
No exams.
No assignments.
No mean classmates.
No responsibilities beyond making sure Kira didn’t attempt to challenge a shark to a race.
A reasonable concern.
I floated peacefully for several minutes before hearing laughter.
Kira.
Obviously.
I looked toward the shore.
Mr. Winslie sat beneath a large beach umbrella reviewing something on his tablet.
Of course he was.
The man could probably find paperwork during the apocalypse.
Meanwhile, Kira was attempting to build what she called a “sandcastle kingdom.”
An ambitious project.
A doomed project.
The waves destroyed half of it within ten minutes.
She declared war on the ocean immediately.
By lunchtime, all three of us sat beneath the shade eating sandwiches prepared by the island staff.
Kira talked enough for all three of us.
Again.
A familiar pattern.
“…and then the wave attacked me.”
“It attacked you?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Winslie raised an eyebrow.
“The wave.”
“The same wave?”
“Probably.”
I covered my mouth to hide a smile.
Kira glared.
“You both think you’re funny.”
“Correct.”
Mr. Winslie didn’t even hesitate.
The betrayal on Kira’s face was immediate.
The rest of the afternoon passed peacefully.
Kira collected shells.
I read a book.
Mr. Winslie occasionally looked up from work long enough to ensure his daughter hadn’t accidentally started an international incident.
A normal day.
Or as normal as life could be on a private island.
Later, as the sun slowly began sinking toward the horizon, the beach transformed.
Everything glowed gold.
The water.
The sand.
The sky.
Beautiful.
Kira had finally exhausted herself.
A miracle.
She sat beside me drawing shapes in the sand.
“Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Nanny talks too much?”
I nearly choked.
Mr. Winslie looked up from his tablet.
Then toward me.
Then toward Kira.
A dangerous pause followed.
“Yes.”
My jaw dropped.
Kira burst into laughter.
“Mr. Winslie!”
“What?”
“You are mean.”
“You asked.”
“That is not the point.”
He actually smiled.
A small one.
Brief.
Gone almost immediately.
But I saw it.
Kira saw it too.
Her eyes widened.
Then she pointed dramatically.
“Daddy smiled!”
Immediately the smile vanished.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Mr. Winslie sighed.
“I made a mistake.”
“A huge mistake.”
“The biggest.”
Kira and I exchanged a look.
Then burst into laughter together.
For a moment, Mr. Winslie simply watched us.
Quietly.
The ocean breeze stirred his hair slightly.
The setting sun painted everything gold.
And something about the moment felt strangely peaceful.
Simple.
Warm.
The kind of memory people remembered years later.
Not because anything important happened.
Because nothing important happened.
Just a father.
A daughter.
A nanny.
A beach.
A week away from ordinary life.
The sort of happiness that arrived quietly.
Without asking permission.
Without demanding attention.
And as Kira leaned against my shoulder while arguing with a crab she had just discovered, I found myself smiling.
Because sometimes the best days weren’t exciting.
Sometimes they were simply calm.
And right now, calm felt perfect.
- Writer
