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It was the morning after the beach off, and everything felt different and awkward; not only because he and some of the other kens were all sleeping in the house that had so recently belonged to both him and Barbie, but not together and not as the home he had always assumed it would someday be. And not because they had met their creator, or because their entire world was in disarray now because of him. Or really because humans had come to Barbieland, and the person he had once defined his entire existence around had left with them. But, while all these things were true, it was really because in his head, which had never felt more confused, Beach Ken continued to call yesterday - to consider the thing that defined the day, as it being the day he and Tourist Ken finally “beached each other off”.
He didn’t, yet, know how he should feel about that. Or about Tourist Ken. Or himself really; because, after yesterday everything felt different inside of him as well.
He had laid awake most of the night, between Artist Ken and Basketball Ken, who still wore the Fauxjo Mojo Mink Coat he had been gifted during Beach’s ongoing identity crisis. And even they, who had been so loyal and supportive throughout, were different now too. Artist Ken was elected as the Ken’s judiciary representative, while Basketball Ken, with the confidence that only a great coat can provide, was already talking about setting up a Kenbassy to further their cause for equal rights.
But for Beach Ken, who no longer even had “beach” to rely upon, he felt utterly lost and directionless. Almost hollow. And so he eased himself out of bed, hoping not to disturb the apparently happy and dreamless slumber of the other kens, the better ones, and wandered out into the world that he had wanted to rebuild, just a small portion of, so that he could have something for himself. Someplace he felt he truly belonged. As he walked along, well before the sun was rising, his mind kept going back to the day before, to all the losses, and to what might just be considered the win.
That was only if someone could actually win a beach off. Considering that he had never done it before, and that yesterday was his first time, he wasn’t sure. Did he do it right at all? He and Ken had spent so long talking about it - threatening it - and when it came down to actually happening, it wasn’t at all how he thought it would go or feel, and he was now scared that this might end up changing the only thing that he really had left to count on.
His relationship with Tourist Ken had never run smoothly, the pair in constant contest for Barbie’s attention; constantly one upping, constantly putting down, constantly picking at each other, constantly celebrating at the other’s expense- and constantly constant, which was something that he was missing all the more in the face of so much uncertainty everywhere else. After losing so much, what if he had lost this as well?
He almost laughed when he found himself at the beach, at the site that was the very apex of the quandary that he now felt brewing inside of him so fiercely that he almost couldn’t stand it.
And so he sat, looking out over the silent waves as touches of pink started to light the world. Barbie’s World. The sun would soon rise, starting a new day. And he would soon have to face whatever that would bring.
But not just yet. And perchance, also not alone.
He straightened when he felt someone sit beside him. It was Tourist Ken.
Beach Ken’s eyes remained on the water before him, his body stiff and unmoving, almost as a doll’s. If this were yesterday he would have ignored Tourist Ken entirely or made a face or returned any greeting barb with an insult. But it wasn’t yesterday. This was the morning after they had fought and danced and found common ground and held hands and stood side-by-side and supported each other and finally admitted, at least to themselves, that they thought each other was cool.
After so much shared between them, there was no way he could just go back to how things used to be. He didn’t know how. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to relearn.
And so, he tried something new, he said his greeting first, “Ken.”
Tourist Ken seemed just as uneasy from the glimpses gained from the corner of Beach Ken’s eye and it made him feel glad, knowing that yesterday must have meant something to both of them. “Ken.”
Silence stretched out between them, neither knowing what to say. How does one start this conversation that could only end somewhere unknown and terrifyingly new? Considering how much else had changed, how much else in their world was now unknown, it seemed both of them had sought out the something they felt they could still rely upon.
Each other.
“So…”
“Yeah…”
Beach Ken sighed. “That was quite a day. Yesterday, I mean. Every day is a day, but most aren’t yesterday. Well- All days become yesterday, but yesterday’s yesterday was…”
“Yesterday. Yeah.”
Beach sighed in relief, knowing that Tourist Ken understood what he was trying - and failing - to say. Again he looked away. This was starting to feel even more awkward than all the times he tried to kiss Barbie. Only, why did he feel more nervous now, than he ever did then? Was it because he knew, deep down that it would always end with Barbie rejecting him? Or because he was now afraid that the same might be true with Ken as well?
Beside him, Tourist Ken squared his already squarely strong shoulders, and from stolen glances Beach Ken could see his fit chest expanding in a way that was all too familiar and strangely comforting. “You know, if I had brought patriarchy to Barbieland, it wouldn’t have failed.”
Beach Ken’s eyes narrowed as they met Ken’s and he scoffed at the presumption that felt almost encouraging in its familiarity. “Like you would have come up with the idea.”
Tourist Ken smiled. “You stole that idea.”
“Stealing the idea was my idea, Ken!” Beach Ken asserted, his own posture both relaxing and gaining confidence as they fell into their sparring dance. “And you would know that if you knew what a good idea was when you saw it, which, you obviously don’t.”
“Well, I followed you and your idea so obviously that’s true.”
There was a moment’s pause before, “Yeah, you did. Thanks for that.”
It was Ken’s turn to grow uncomfortable and look away, “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry,” Beach said once awkwardness threatened to break upon them once more, “For ruining everything.”
“And, I’m sorry that your Barbie left. I know how much she meant to you.”
Beach studied Ken for a moment when he made the realization that he had never thought to realize before: Tourist Ken never had a Barbie, not in the way Beach and the other kens did. He never seemed to have needed one. “You did? Then why did you always try to make me look bad in front of her?”
“You made yourself look bad simply by being compared to me.”
For the moment, somehow, having seen beneath the veneer that Tourist Ken had put forth, Beach Ken ignored the dig that served as a request to return once more to the safety of their rivalry. A rivalry that they both knew was no longer there without the spoke that had kept it spinning. Without their battle for Barbie, did they have anything else to tie them together?
“You were always doing cool flips, and dancing, and using logic and words, and touching your perfect hair-”
“You think my hair is perfect?” Tourist Ken asked with an almost shy grin.
“-and doing everything you could to get Barbie’s attention.”
“Wait. That’s what you thought I was doing?”
“That’s what I know you were doing because you were doing it, like!, all of the time.”
“Ken…” Tourist Ken shook his head and returned his gaze to the water, whatever it was that he was leaving unsaid feeling like an uncomfortable weight that would soon make it hard for Beach Ken to breathe.
They had fallen back into their roles, into their rivalry so quickly that it felt shallow and forced now, like trying to put on a shoe after a dog had chewed it and finding it no longer fit. And now Beach Ken was worried: had he wanted things to not be ruined so much with Tourist Ken that he had accidentally ruined things all on his own? “Ken?”
Tourist Ken sighed and tried something new himself, he tried being honest. “I never wanted Barbie’s attention. I only ever wanted yours.”
“Really? Mine? Why?”
“Well… because I always thought you were cool, you know, in a ‘really not cool but earnest’ way. You’re always honest with how you feel and I admire that.”
“You do? Cuz, you know, I actually admire how you’re direct but supportive, you know, when you’re not being mean.”
“You think I’m mean?”
“Only when you’re, you know, being mean. When you’re not, I think you’re pretty cool. And, I guess, a good friend.” He was quiet a moment before he felt compelled to ask, “So you really wanted my attention?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have to be a dick about it?”
“Probably, yeah, I kind of think I did.”
Beach Ken could only shrug, not able to argue with such sound reasoning. “So, what do we do now?”
“Well, we do have the whole ‘trying to take over Barbieland’ thing to face later, but, for now, if you want, I could teach you how to do a flip.”
Beach Ken’s face lit up. It was true that everything was now different, but it was also a little less scary knowing that even if things were different, with the right people beside you, everything could still be alright. And, maybe someday, also lead to something new.
“Just so you know,” Tourist said with a grin as he helped Ken to his feet, his hand lingering in Ken’s for a moment longer than required, “When you fall on your face, I get to laugh at you.”
Ken had thrown their world in disarray looking for a place he belonged. But maybe, tomorrow, after the day he would come to define by this very moment, he would discover that place next to somebody, a rival turned friend, who, despite his barbs, truly cared.