At the time they were just too… simple… for me to wrap my head around. I was living a life of excess, which I thought would never end, and they were shopping at thrift stores and playing video games on their phones. We were worlds away in maturity.
“It’s fine,” I said wanting to get away from the memories. “Why don’t we stroll and see what we find?”
Malls were best explored one shop at a time at your own leisure rather than jumped into and consumed as fast as possible. Plus, I hadn’t been to a mall in years. I wanted to walk slowly and enjoy the experience while letting myself buy a pretzel rather than worrying over the carbs.
Oliver grabbed my arm and looped it underneath his, an action I enjoyed way too much, and pulled me away from the directory. “Let’s stroll, my lady.”
Pierce picked up a step beside us, but his cousin and not my fake fiancé, consumed my mind. Just as I expected when I first saw him in his car, Oliver somehow towered over my height even though he only had a few inches on me. His dark hair swept to one side matched his eyes, so brown and deep they looked black under the fluorescent lighting. He wore his suit more casually than I did a pair of jeans and I hadn’t figured out how he looked so wonderful while maintaining such a laid-back personality underneath his layers of sophistication.
This carefree attitude drew me to him most. Oliver was unlike any person I’d met before in Central or North America. The men I’d most recently been around were wrapped up in concerns over the Earth’s deterioration and the plastic levels in the ocean. Both were very concerning and important pieces of conversation, but they never kicked back and enjoyed themselves. It was as if they were dying right along with the planet.
Before that I’d mainly dated Trey and hung around men who had at least seven zeros in their bank accounts. Rich men were, in my opinion, the absolute worst. They were stiff and arrogant, bossy too. They knew their worth—to the penny—and figured they were too good to mingle with anyone who smiled at something insignificant.
I learned my role in society at a young age and I played the part well, but now I found I didn’t want to any longer. Life in the US as Mari Chambers sucked. I wanted to be… me. Sure, I hadn’t figured out who that was yet, but like most people, I decided it was a work in progress.
At one point in time, I’d been attracted to Trey Good’s stuffy demeanor. He wore a constant scowl, was blatantly firm with his opinions, and didn’t overuse his words. The asshole personality drew me in when I needed to be as tough and determined.
But then I learned to care for others and look at the world through fresh eyes. It wasn’t about how much money your business made or what stockholders thought of you, but the good you did every day and the people you helped. There had to be balance in life between ripping the plastic straw out from everyone’s drink containers and wasting a life working ninety hours a week in an office building concerned over nothing more than profits.
I’d experienced an undignified fall from grace when my family forced me out of San Francisco because of my actions, but I couldn’t argue with the results. Now I was a happier, more rounded person. On good days I even looked back fondly and was thankful my actions led me to Guatemala.
We walked past the various stores until somewhere in the middle two very crazy different worlds collided. A Britney Spears song kicked on the overhead speakers causing Oliver to smile at the slight way I moved my hips. It happened at roughly the exact second Oliver diverted us into the closest toy store. He picked up the slight movements of my dance and shimmied to an arcade area in the back corner.
A basketball shooting machine lit up with numbers as he tossed balls through the hoop and started a countdown allowing him to make as many free-throw shots as possible in a thirty-second window.
“Get one of these for your basement, Pierce,” Oliver yelled over the tick-tock as it grew louder with each passing second counting his remaining time.
Pierce stopped beside the machine for a moment and shook his head. “No thanks, but you could fit one in your place.”
Oliver’s eyes narrowed as he lined up his last throw and chucked the ball at the hoop. It hit the backboard, touched the rim, circled around and then flopped in the net right as the one-second timer ticked away giving him a last point. “You think there’s room for one on the boat?”
“You own a boat?” It wasn’t unheard of in social circles. More than one obscenely rich person in San Francisco lived on a boat they docked in the bay. What I found odd was that Oliver lived on a yacht. He appeared more of a New York condo penthouse man than a seafaring gentleman.
“Yes, for the last two years. I’ve been looking for a place to settle. Pierce tells me about Pelican Bay, but there might not be enough room in this town for two Kensington men. Three if you count Jerome when he finally relocates.”
“When is Jerome moving?” I had heard little if anything about Jerome Kensington. Nothing more than Pierce’s muttered curses regarding the building he was constructing at the end of Main Street.
“No idea. He’s building a new office building downtown, but the crew faced opposition and construction is delayed.”
“Yeah, opposition he’s left me to deal with on my own,” Pierce said with annoyance in the statement. I would need to get that back story later.
Pierce picked up a sword from a big bucket of them and hit Oliver once on the shoulder. “The least you could do is control your brother for me. Make him get here and take care of his own problems.”
Oliver twisted once to the side, whipped his arm around, and stole the sword from Pierce, poking him in the side. “Nobody can control Jerome.”
I laughed at their antics. Men. Some of them never grew up.
Oliver dumped the sword back in the bucket and strolled the aisle of the toy store picking up a big dalmatian puppy wearing a red firefighter’s hat. “So, Pierce, you want what, three fake kids? Ten?”
“Fake fiancée, remember? Let’s not bring fake children into this,” Pierce said sounding even more annoyed. “In six months, Mari will be back in Guatemala two million richer and renovations will be well underway.”
For whatever reason my heart twisted at his comment. I’d only been in Pelican Bay for two days, but already being back in the states had me conflicted about my commitment to the project. I’d forgotten so many things. I missed America. I missed screwing around with friends. And the food, hamburgers, frappes, and refrigerators.
Oh, I would definitely make sure my village received the two million from Pierce to get running water and I would return to help facilitate the project, but being back in the states reminded me of how many luxuries I left behind in my hasty departure. Not ridiculous ones like fancy cars or even mall shopping trips, but the little things. Things you never realize you take for granted until you do.
Being able to flush toilet paper, well insulated homes where you don’t have check the sheets each night before you go to bed for tarantulas, and ice cubes. When I first moved to Central America, I hadn’t worried about any of those things because my heart had been too broken, but years eased the pain and my way of life. I’d let minor inconveniences slip from my memory, but now they were back and glaring at me like shining beacons. How in the hell had I forgotten the sweet smooth cool taste of a frappe?
And for whatever reason every time I thought of my favorite frozen beverage, Oliver was holding one in his arms with his perfectly placed smile.
