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I finished the shower and dried off. The house was quiet. I concluded Shay had showered and climbed into bed. She'd come dangerously close to drowning, dangerously close to dying the same way her mother had, a nightmarish end that I was certain had haunted Shay her whole life. And selfish ass that I was, I tried immediately to take advantage of her shaken state by taking her to bed. I was an idiot.
I pulled on my clothes and walked out into the hallway. I considered letting her nap, but there was just too much I needed to say. I walked to her door and knocked. No answer.
I leaned my forehead against the door. "Shay, I need to talk to you." No answer. I headed toward the living room, deciding to let her sleep.
I turned toward the kitchen and headed to the refrigerator for a beer. Our blanket and picnic were still out on the sand, now overrun by a flock of seagulls who had decimated all the food. I chugged back some beer and spun around to head out to the beach to retrieve what was left of the picnic. As my eyes grazed past the kitchen window, something was different. My gaze shot back to the window and out to the driveway. Shay's car was gone.
I raced down the hallway and threw open the bedroom door. Her few belongings had been packed up and taken away. She'd straightened up the room and bed as if she had never been in the house. A piece of paper was sitting on the bed. Her pretty handwriting stared back at me.
* * *
I'm sorry this came apart so quickly, but then maybe it was only held together by frail strings in the first place. I hope I helped you some with your problem. For what it's worth, you are far more genuine than you give yourself credit for. Thank you for one of the best weeks of my life. Love, Shay.
* * *
I FOLDED the paper and held it tightly in my grasp as I walked to the window and stared out. With every edible crumb gone, the gulls had finally deserted the blanket on the sand. My heart raced again as the few terrifying moments in the water came back to me. The day ended badly, but it could have ended much worse.
It looked like I was alone again. Loneliness was something I'd grown up with, something I'd grown used to. I'd even taken a crazy amount of comfort in being alone. But now that I'd had Shay in my life, now that I'd felt what it was like to be with someone who I wanted to spend every minute with, loneliness was going to feel like a hopeless, dark hole in the pit of my stomach.
31
I walked through the house with the shoebox under my arm. Without him, it was no longer the house I grew up in. It was just a massive, cavernous building with lots of rooms and a double staircase that sat like a giant zipper to bring the two wings of the house together. Sheffield was sitting at the dining room table, finishing up paperwork and waiting for me to bring down the list of things I wanted.
He looked up over his narrow eyeglasses. "You can't be finished already? Don't forget your dad's study. There are a few sculptures in there that are worth a hundred thousand each. That one of George Washington—"
I held up the shoebox of old pictures. "I've got what I need. Everything else can be auctioned off for the cancer charity."
His double chins warbled as his mouth dropped open. "That's a shoebox."
"Yes and it's filled with faded old pictures of my dad and his parents, my grandparents. This is all I need. I've got someplace to be, if you could lock up."
He pushed up from his chair and followed me to the entryway. "Nash, there are pictures in this house that are worth more than most people make in a lifetime."
I stopped and looked at him. "And I already have more than I can spend in my lifetime. Please, James." I tapped the box. "This is all I want. Call me if you need anything else." I headed down the steps and walked to the car.
It had been two weeks since Shay walked out of my life, and I'd thought of little else. She'd fled in her house on wheels and she'd left no address. And, in my usual egocentric state of mind , I'd never asked if she had a phone. I had no way to contact her. For the first few days, I wandered the house, convinced that it was for the best. She knew where I lived but, she never returned. She was obviously not missing me at all. And I was the last thing she needed in her life. But if nothing else, I needed to pay her money. She'd left with nothing, and she'd quit her job to help me. I worried she was still living in her shitty car. The streak of jealousy I couldn't contain when it came to Shay had given me a clue about where I might find her.
I hopped in the car and headed toward the valley.
Traffic had given me time to gather my thoughts and words in case I was lucky enough to find Shay at the assisted living home. But after an hour of a brake light symphony, I had nothing. My feelings for Shay were still so strong, I couldn't think straight enough to put them in any reasonable order.
