AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She’s right. But I still can’t make myself open up.
I still can’t shake the voice that keeps telling me I really may not be capable of making this woman happy.
“Jen, please.”
“Please what?”
“That call. It threw me for a... bigger loop than I was anticipating. I need some time to process.”
Hurt flickers across her green eyes. “Oh. Okay. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here. Always.”
See? You don’t deserve her understanding. The grace she freely gives you.
“I appreciate that more than you know,” I manage.
Then I peck her on the lips and go inside. Fuck work. I won’t be able to concentrate anyway.
Swim trunks, flip-flops. Surfboard and sunscreen. I’m an asshole running away like this, leaving Jen wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
I do it anyway.
I head for the beach without saying goodbye. Surfing clears my mind like nothing else, and it’s a good day for it. Waves won’t be great on account of the lack of a breeze. But at least the beach will be empty, and I’ll have the time and space I need to think. Not only about what I’m going to do about Dad, but how I’m going to apologize to Jen. Keep this mindfuck thing from happening when he resurfaces.
The sand is warm, but the water is blessedly cool. I paddle far out. Wait for a wave. A small one approaches, and I decide to ride it to shore because what the hell else am I going to do?
My quads and arms sing as I push myself up to standing on the board. Riding this wave is no athletic feat, but it’s still a struggle for me to remain upright. My body is tired. Worn out.
Falling off my board several feet from shore, I feel a hundred years old.
Surfingneverlets me down. But my head still buzzes withevery awful intrusive thought I’ve ever had as I catch another wave. Another. The buzzing gets louder.
I start to panic.
Almost wish someone would show up to save me from myself. Bald Head is a small place; I’m always running into people when I don’t want to. Where are those busybodies now?
I give up after a measly twenty-five minutes. Toweling off, I walk back to my golf cart in the little parking lot off the beach. The sand burns the bare soles of my feet.
I should go home. Explain myself to my wife. But what would I say? I haven’t figured that out yet.
I haven’t figured out what to say to myself—the voice that keeps telling me I’m going to let everyone down.
I can’t go home. So I find myself driving toward the marina.The Jolly Rogerbobs happily in its slip in a far corner. Its pirate flag is up.
Joe is on board.
thirty-two
. . .
Abel
Two Truths and a Lie
I parkand head out onto the dock. The noon sun glints off the water, making my eyes smart.
“Hey!” Joe raises his hand. He’s sitting on the back deck ofThe Jolly Roger, his feet up. There’s a book in his lap and a beer in his hand.
Bless the man. He knows how to live the good life, even when he’s fighting cancer.
