I know my parents moved us down to California before I even started school, but each time I return it feels like I’m coming home. Or maybe it’s my brother’s influence, because sunshine and warmth aren’t ever something I’d associate with Eden.
Leaning beside my surfboard I watch a sage green and off-white vintage Volkswagen Combi van pull into the parking lot and back into the only empty space. The guy driving steps out and circles to the passenger side to open the large sliding door. He looks familiar: tall, tanned in the kind of way that isn’t just from the sun, there's blackwork tribal tattoos up his neck, his hair is buzzed almost to the scalp, and he's got a bandage over his nose and a bruise under his eye. He’s got a presence, sure, but he looks more like the kind of guy you’d expect to be on a paddle board in Hawaii, not shuffling boxes in a parking lot in Northern Washington.
He bends to pick up a stack of shoeboxes balanced on the curb and catches me staring. His eyes go wide for half a second, then he quickly looks away.
Why does he look so damn familiar?
I open Instagram and flick through the photos of my time spent at The North Shore on Oahu. He looks like a local, but I definitely don't know him from there.
I try calling Eden’s number because I’ve waited long enough, but it goes straight to voicemail.
With a lamenting sigh, I push off the wall and pace the sidewalk in front of the building.
The guy loading the van struggles with the mattress and I feel compelled to help, but when I step towards him he shoves it inside, abandoning all the care he’d been taking. With a shrug I keep walking, back and forth, until everything is loaded into the van because I have some internal need to see how—whatever this situation is—plays out.
He leans against the side of the van and lights a cigarette. His eyes flicker to me every few seconds, checking to see if I’m still there. When he exhales, the smoke coils up, drowning his face. He lets his head fall back against the Combi’s window, and I can’t help but sympathize because he’s got the look on his face ofa person who’s been somewhere way too long but doesn’t know how to leave.
“Do you live here?” I ask, ignoring the wall he’s built between us.
“Huh?” His head whips towards me, brows knitted tightly in confusion; his reaction proving that I really should know who he is.
“Do you live here?” I ask again.
“No,” he replies, but it’s more like a question.
“Do you know someone who does?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you know my brother, Eden van der Hart?”
“Yeah.”
I run my fingers through the long, sun-bleached waves on top of my head, repositioning them to the other side. “More than one word answers would be helpful.”
He shrugs, and it’s awkward, like he's telling me I should be thankful he responded at all.
“D’you know if he’s around?”
He shakes his head. “He’s not… Sorry man.” Then he takes another drag of his cigarette and turns away from me.
I hate when people apologize for shit that doesn’t need an apology. That asshole Eden isn’t here, now this guy’s saying sorry as if it’s his fault my toddler of an older brother can’t even be present when I arrive like we’ve been planning for months.
I check the time. I’ve been standing out here for seventeen minutes. If Eden isn’t in his apartment, then he also isn’t fucking Shawn who I knowisinside.
I give the buzzer one last punch and hold it down while I call my brother with my other hand, cause fuck Shawn for not letting me in.
“What the fuck is going on, Eden?” I shout into the receiver when it’s time to leave my message. “You’ve known I was comingsince August. It’s too early for you to be at work, and Shawn's being a bitch and won’t buzz me inside.”
Just then, I hear someone swearing from the lobby.
I quickly hang up and release the buzzer to look. It’s Shawn, arms loaded with bags. She sees me and rolls her eyes so hard I swear I hear it. Then she bursts through the glass door, pushing me back, ignoring my existence entirely.
“The hell was that for?” I say, stepping in front of her. “Why couldn’t you just let me in?”
Shawn steps around me and I follow her down the short path to the grassed area by the parking lot.
“Hello?”
