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The Complicated Coast A Story by Nicola Keegan There were things I did not know about Sunny Lewis when we decided to room together at Stanford. I did not know she was going to be a psych major, that she played sad songs on a sad steel-string acoustic guitar, that she hummed along as she strummed her sad guitar with wrinkly swimmer fingers, that she hummed and strummed other objects that were not a guitar when her guitar wasn’t around to calm herself down from all the human behavior classes she was taking that were secretly making her crazy. I already knew that she liked to give free psychological counseling, but I didn’t know that I would be her guinea pig for the human emotional experience, that I would look up from my position on my recliner when the sad strumming suddenly stopped and she would be staring at me, analyzing. Swimmers fall into two camps: those who want a balanced life and those who don’t care. Sunny cares. I don’t. Please log in to view or print the full story online or in PDF format. If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy. Login or register to post comments

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The Complicated Coast

A Story

There were things I did not know about Sunny Lewis when we decided to room together at Stanford. I did not know she was going to be a psych major, that she played sad songs on a sad steel-string acoustic guitar, that she hummed along as she strummed her sad guitar with wrinkly swimmer fingers, that she hummed and strummed other objects that were not a guitar when her guitar wasn’t around to calm herself down from all the human behavior classes she was taking that were secretly making her crazy. I already knew that she liked to give free psychological counseling, but I didn’t know that I would be her guinea pig for the human emotional experience, that I would look up from my position on my recliner when the sad strumming suddenly stopped and she would be staring at me, analyzing.

Swimmers fall into two camps: those who want a balanced life and those who don’t care. Sunny cares. I don’t.

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