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Instead, I crawl into the low two-man tent with Adam who is clutching Moo, his brown cow teddy, and asks about every sound coming through the thin plastic walls.
How can I give Adam a happy holiday? I’m lost, lonely, a single dad seeking love, and as the morning light brightens the tent, I’m still no closer to finding a light in my life. Except for Adam.
The image of electric blue eyes flashes in my mind.
Perhaps those are my light?
2
Blue Eyes, Brown Hair
I should have brought my flip-flops. The water on the floor in the changing area of the shower is disgusting with yellow soapy foam. There’s no room for me to sit on the small bench to dry my feet as it’s occupied by the washbag, towels, clothes and Adam. Who can’t stand still. Which makes it difficult for me to keep my balance as I try to dry my feet and get dressed without stepping or dropping anything into the frothy water.
“Can we say hi to the cows before we go to the beach?” Adam asks and leans onto me while rubbing his shin.
“As long as they’re still on the field behind our tent, then yes.”
“Why would they not be on field?”
“They may have moved a bit to get the greenest grass.”
“Or maybe they are milked.”
“Yes, maybe they are inside being milked.”
“I like milk.”
We continue chatting cows until I lift him onto my hip, holding him with one arm, and try to fit all our stuff in the other arm. I need one of those big cloth bags that all mums seem to have. That Alison has several of, but I never considered packing in my boxes. I unlock the door. My towel slips out of my grasp and drops onto the wet floor. I grind my teeth to stop the expletives spilling from my mouth. Awkwardly, I try to bend and pick it up without dropping more stuff or Adam.
“I’ll help you.”
My gaze flicks to where the voice came from and crash with bright blue eyes.
“Hi, Julie.”
“Hi, Julie,” Adam whispers.
Her smile could thaw the hardest of ice.
“Is this one free?”
I bring my gaze from the pretty young woman kneeling in front of me to the forty-something woman behind her.
“Yes, sorry.”
I shuffle sideways to stop blocking the door and Julie quicky picks up my towel.
“Christ, this floor is disgusting!” The older woman’s face, that has seen a bit too much fake tan, is scrunched up.
Julie pales and stutters, “Apologies, we are going to add raised mats to stand on, but we haven’t got hold of any yet.”
“Well maybe you should focus on that instead of faffing about?”
The shower door slams shut.
Julie bites her lip, her gaze to the ground. I nudge her. “Let’s go.”
She takes a deep breath when we’re outside. “I’ll help you carry this up to your tent,” she offers.
