And what I’ve written is far, far,farfrom that.
Ugh. This is going to be a long road.
Before I know it, the sun is setting already, and I’ve barely gotten anything of substance done. I know I have an entire month, but I had hoped I’d be able to get at leastonesection ofonepage right today. But I’m not there yet.
As I scarf down another pitiful sandwich for dinner, I think back to Logan’s invitation. It makes sense, in a way. After all, I did come here for a change in scenery. Even though the view from my cabin is absolutely beautiful, I won’t find much inspiration from staying in one place. I never have.
And I can’t lie to myself—the idea of spending more time with Logan excites me in more ways than one. I’m no longer sure if he’s forgiven me for the way our friendship ended, or if he has just stuffed it in the back of his mind and buried it underneath some other junk he hasn’t processed—like any typical adult.
But I do know one thing—that he does seem to genuinely want to spend time with me.
A memory bursts through my mind:
His hips against mine. Hot breath against my neck.
I push it away as quickly as it came. Just a quick moment of it has made my cheeks flush red.
I realize he may have been expecting me to drop in today to talk more in detail about those outings he invited me on, but I got lost so deeply in my work that I didn’t see the time go by. And now I don’t know if Logan is the type of person who finds it okay to get a visit from someone at 8 p.m.
Because I have no idea who Logan is anymore. We’ve been apart for longer than we were alive when we last saw each other. Yes, I did get a first impression, and a lot of what I glimpsed from yesterday seems to be somewhat similar to the boy I once knew.
But we’ve both grown up. We’re not even baby adults anymore; we’re grade-A adults. At least, we’re supposed to be.
There’s a pang in my heart at the thought of that. My thirtieth birthday is looming, but I try not to think about it. Age is just a number, right?
I finish my sandwich and decide to go looking for Logan anyway when I realize I don’t even know where he lives. I’ve only ever seen him in the lobby of the main lodge. There’s a good chance he lives somewhere on the resort’s property, but even if that’s the case, I wouldn’t know where to look. We should have exchanged numbers yesterday, but I never think about that sort of thing.
Maybe he’s still working in the lobby at this hour, too. Might as well get some exercise in and walk there.
I go back inside, grab a loose knitted cardigan to protect myself from the oncoming chill of the evening sea breeze, and make my way toward the main lobby on foot. At the cabin left of mine, the two ladies who were at the patio last night are sitting around a large bonfire, each deeply engrossed in her own book. I find them brave to be reading when there’s hardly any sun left.
They’re not the only people at the resort who thought of bonfires, either. At least one out of two cabins I walk across has an active firepit. Must be good at keeping the mosquitos at bay.
I finally make it to the main lodge, but no luck. The lady working there tells me Logan is off this evening, so I’m back to square one.
I can’t help but feel deeply disappointed, even though I knew the chances of finding him were slim. At that moment, I realize how much I need this right now. How much I need a friend like Logan.
It’s not that I have no friends. Sophie and I have been thick as thieves ever since I moved to Montreal after leaving Red Lake behind with my family. In fact, she’s the only one who stuck with me while everyone else called me a weirdo. She may not understand why I don’t feel comfortable around other people—becauseshedefinitely does—or why I love books and video games so much—because she doesn’t—but she has always been there for me, especially recently with the breakup.
That being said, it’s not the same as it used to be. And of course it isn’t. I wouldn’t expect Sophie to always be hanging out with me now that she’s a mom to two beautiful little girls. But even if I don’t expect it, part of me still needs it.
And even if I put that part of it aside … There’s an indescribable quality that I never shared in my friendship with Sophie. I don’t know if it’s because Logan and I met when we were younger, or if there’s a deeper connection between the two of us, but the truth is that no one, not even Sophie, ever truly understood me the way Logan once did.
For instance, Sophie never understood why I wouldn’t attend our high school graduation party. She begged and pleaded for me to go, and no matter how many times I explained it to her, she never got it.
She wasn’t there when I watched the clock tick by and slowly realized that no one except my best friend was going to show up to my seventh-grade graduation party, which also happened to double as a goodbye party.
That’s why Sophie ended up going to our high school graduation party with a few of her other friends—the ones who didn’t like me—while I stayed home in my PJs watchingKill Billwith my dad. Not that I ever held it against her. I wouldn’t have wanted her to miss it for anything in the world. There was just no way I could have joined her.
I snap out of my reverie and realize I’ve accidentally made my way to the coast some ways away from my cabin. There’s a wooden bench looking out towards the ocean. Like the area near my cabin, the rocky beach is about five feet down a short cliff. And like yesterday, the fog has started creeping in.
Why not?I sit on the bench, seeing no reason to go back to my cabin right away. Might as well take in the evening breeze and drown my disappointment with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
Every time a particularly large wave crashes against the pebbly beach and drags back out, I’m met with a satisfying rolling sound as the water scurries back to the ocean through thousands of stones. It’s not enough to fix all my problems, but it’s enough to soothe me for a moment.
I close my eyes and focus on the sound. The ‘shhh’ of the incoming wave … the crash … that moment of silence … and the slithering against the rocks. It’s such a simple detail, but it grounds me in the moment, easing some tension from my body.
Right then and there, I decide to make this my end-of-day ritual. A gift to myself. A moment of reprieve.
