“You doing anything fun?” Marian asks from behind me, catching my eyes in the mirror.
“Nah. Heading home,” I reply. “What about you?”
She sighs. “Youth is wasted on the young, and you don’t even use it.” Marian reaches behind her ample body and unties her own apron. “Live your life.”
Not too much, though. Just enough to give them something fun to gossip about. If you live too much, they’ll cast you to thesharks. “I may head to the beach. I’m itching to see the sunset. Been in this fluorescent light all day. Makes me a little crazy.”
Marian looks as if I’ve offended her by stating facts. The lighting is indeed fluorescent and fake. “Good. Get on out of here. Tell your mama, I said—” Marian halts her sentence, cheeks flushed when she realizes her blunder. “Bye now, Malena.” Marian tugs at the bottom of her shirt and sniffles several times.
“It’s not your job to remember every person’s ailments. She’s doing okay. I’ll mention you said hi,” I say, trying to comfort my mother’s old friend even if she doesn’t deserve it. “She still has flashes.” The moments of clarity are few and far between, but when they happen, it’s like having snippets of my mom back instead of the slack-jawed, wide-eyed zombie that has taken her place.
Marian rolls her eyes. “This is Bronze Bay. We take care of our own. We keep up. I’m sorry, sweetie, I should have remembered. Have a good one.” She wrestles her oversized purse out of a locker and exits through the back door. It’s easy to forget when she’s never mentioned.
“You too,” I say, speaking to empty air. The beach was a lie to cover for my absence of a life, but seeing a sunset would brighten my mood and keep me from texting Leif. There’s no way he’s still at the beach. I bet he’s at his house, watching the sunset from the dock in front of his house. That’s what I’d be doing if I were him. After Mom goes to bed tonight, I have to research a few locations for availability for the upcoming party I got a call about this morning. I’m thrilled to have an event planning task, no matter how small it is.
Tucking my bag under my arm, I exit into the swampy heat and start up my car, the air conditioning blasts at the same time since I rarely turn it off. The drive home is quick, and I’ll pass the beach on my way. The paved roads are bad, with potholeslittering both sides for as long as the road stretches. The dirt roads are usually lined with seashells, and they make a satisfying crunch as you drive or bike over them—or cut your feet if your flip-flops slip off.
The public beach comes into view, and the small parking lot is surprisingly jam-packed. Then I see the moped. The one Shirley described as belonging to Leif, and I know why it’s so busy. I’m focused on the beach and trying to pick him out in the raucous crowd, and I turn my eyes from the road for too long, and I hit the long-ass pothole we’ve namedGrave Digger. The frame of my car scrapes and the engine whines as I gas it to make it through the deep hole.
“Fuck,” I yell, as I finally get through it and begin to listen to my vehicle for signs of distress. “That’s a trip to the mechanic,” I whine under my breath and then lose it at the same time.
Dylan.
The man I married on a whim because we were so madly in love. The man who left me two years into the union because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. A baby. It was a blessing in disguise, I realize now. If the time comes where I get to marry again, I want a man who wants to love me in any form, no matter how deranged and barren my body may be.
Dylan was my high school sweetheart. There were no false pretenses with him. His dad owned the local mechanic shop, and Dylan was primed to take it over when he graduated high school. That was comforting. A piece of stability in our little world. He was well liked, we thought we were in love, and marriage and family were what we thought we wanted. He wanted the stereotypical Bronze Bay life. I was barely out of high school and trying to have his baby. My periods were never at the same time every month, and they told me it was my fault I wasn’t able to have his baby. They used terminology I didn’t understand, and I never thought about it since because it wasn’t something I reallywanted. It was an act I thought I had to do to mesh with my chosen life.
Returning to reality, I pull the car to the side of the road, the beach still in view. The clock in my car tells me I have twenty minutes before I need to be home to relieve Mom’s day nurse. I watch the people dancing to music I can’t hear, clanking beer bottles with huge, carefree laughs. Leif is there, off to the side, sitting down, facing the ocean. It looks like a few bikini-clad women are gathered around him, but thank God, his hands seem to be to himself.
Sighing, I give in to my desires and pull out my cell phone, texting the number he gave me earlier.Lunch tomorrow at my house. Bring fried chicken wings and all the patience you can muster. Also, condoms.I hit send, grinning.
Leif stands, and my heart races, hoping he’ll look beyond the parking lot and come my way. To talk to me and to get far away from those women. He slides his hand into the side pocket of his board shorts and pulls out his phone. The smile on his face when he sees my text is evident from here. “You really are into me,” I say, raising my brows. Looking at my phone, I wait for his response.
You really want to date me?comes his reply.
Laughing, I text him back.Didn’t you see the last thing on my list? That’s not really dating.
Now, we’re on familiar territory. A place I can thrive in. His face looks jubilant, as he paces away from the crowd, toward the parking lot. The pull is almost magnetic as he gets closer to me.Come here. I want you next to me. You want me too.Then reality hits.
Why are you being so nice to me? What’s the catch?I tap out and send.
You’re hot, and I want to get to know you better. Why does there have to be a catch?
Because you’re a man, I think.
I guess. Not into a one-night stand, then?
He stares at his phone for several beats before replying.Trick question?
No. I don’t have time for much, and dating is definitely time-consuming. A quickie here or there, though? Totally doable. Pun intended.He did call me fucking beautiful. That’s an easy ask. He’ll be pleased with my body and won’t have to seek what’s inside my mind. The scary stuff.
Leif runs his hand through his hair and looks to the side, the hand holding his phone down by his side. He’s upset by my candid response, and I’m shocked for the second time at the realization of Leif wanting something more than I’m offering. Could I date him? Do I have the time? The patience? The room for heartbreak if it evolves? Everyone in town knows why I don’t have serious relationships, but there’s a chance Leif has no clue about my past. This could be my fresh start. The life I would have had if I dated a Bronze Bay native. It’s easy to think I’m not a good match for a man like Leif. He’s so beautiful, and I’m dull in comparison. What could I possibly bring to a relationship with an outsider? The thought of not being good enough is terrifying.
Let’s see how lunch goes, and then we can discuss quickies and dating,I amend. He’s going to run when he sees what I have to deal with. No one wants to take part in that burden unless they’re being paid. My own father abandoned me with the task of caring for a person who is as good as a stranger on most days. My cell phone buzzes, and it’s a message from my girlfriend Caroline, answering a question I’d asked earlier in the day regarding Leif. She confirmed Shirley’s information. He is a good guy. Without baggage, and he’s not known for tearing around town.
An embedded niggling feeling whispers that he sounds too good to be true. Maybe I was on the right track with the serialkiller persona.Thanks, Caroline. You’re a peach. Don’t say anything to him, please, I write back.
As soon as I send that text, another from Leif’s number bubbles up.
