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“Thanks. It’s really close to my heart, too. Have a great day, ladies.”
I take off quickly before they can start jabbering. I make it to the room and pull my phone out of my pocket before I collapse onto the bed. The curtains are pulled tight so the room is nice and dark even though the morning sun is shining bright outside. I glance at my screen and scroll through the six new texts I’ve received since I left the airport. Nothing from Claire.
If she wants me to stop texting her that’s exactly what I’ll do. And not because I know it will drive her nuts. I’ll do it because I’m willing to do pretty much anything to get her back.
But also because it’ll drive her nuts.
I text Tasha to let her know that Claire is okay with Tuesday for the meeting then ignore Tasha’s smiley response as I dial the number of a local tattoo artist I met during my last visit to London. Arthur is the only reason I’m here, so I’m super stoked when he picks up on the third ring.
“Chris ‘Fucking’ Knight. Why the fuck are you calling me at this bloody hour?”
“Hey, Art. You think you can squeeze me in today? Just a quickie. A name.”
Claire doesn’t know I covered up the tattoo of her name I got on my shoulder blade three years ago. I can’t do much about that, but I can do something else even better. Not sure how or when I’ll get to show her this new one, but I’ll find a way.
“It’s Sunday, mate. The shop’s closed. Stop by at eleven.”
I should take a quick nap, but I’m too wired from the flight and the excitement of some new ink. I open the photo app on my phone and scroll to the bottom of the list of folders. I touch the folder labeled ‘CB.’
The first photo is of Claire and me sitting on a piano bench. She’s smiling as I kiss her forehead. This was taken at a show in Toronto; one of the last shows she attended with me before we broke up. The next picture is of her sleeping on the sofa at our house. Her mouth is hanging open and she’s clutching the throw pillow in her fist. I close my eyes and lay the phone next to me on the bed because I’m finally starting to feel tired.
Maybe I’m just exhausted from everything that’s happened the past three weeks. I had resigned myself to a life without Claire. I was certain she wanted nothing more to do with me. But nothing she says to me now can erase that kiss.
I felt it in the curve of her mouth, the way we fit together, the way she leaned into me, seeking me. She still loves me and, despite the fact that she majorly fucked me over, she’s still the one and only future I’m certain of. Claire and I were made for each other. I’m determined to make her remember that.
Chapter Four
Adam
THE FLIGHT IS UNCOMFORTABLE, BUT I’m sober by the time the plane hits cruising altitude. Just knowing that I’m going to be home soon, and that I had enough sense in me not to book that flight to Raleigh, fills me with relief. By the time I pull my truck out of the lot at Wilmington International, I’m feeling 100% back to normal.
I always knew Claire would be my downfall.
The twenty-minute drive home is spent in silence. I realize now why Claire always hated listening to the radio whenever we were together. Now I’m the one avoiding the radio, but I left my iPod in my backpack in the hotel room so I have to suffer in silence.
It’s ridiculous how much I hate Chris’s music now. Just remembering how I bought his album and watched his videos fills me with shame. It’s alternative with a rock-blues edge, but it’s all washed out by pop vocals. At least, that’s what the article I read about him in Entertainment Weekly said.
I smile a little as I remember that review in Entertainment Weekly.
When I enter my apartment I’m hit with the scent of that fucking coconut-scented oil Claire put in a dish on my coffee table. It’s six in the morning. I have just enough time to take an hour-long nap before I check on Cora and head to Shell Island to teach the Sunday session. I take a five-minute shower then lie down in bed with my phone to shoot Claire a text.
Me: Knock, knock.
Claire: Who’s there?
Me: Me… in five days unless I can get this fucking time machine to work.
Claire: Guess what I’m doing?
Me: Lying naked in bed?
Claire: Close. I’m changing into my pajamas. I just got home. Senia broke up with Eddie and made me go out with her. It did not go well.
I trust Claire, but it seems like the universe is pounding the hundred-mile wedge between us deeper into the earth every day.
Me: Is she ok? Are you ok?
Claire: She’s passed out. I didn’t drink, but I’m about to pass out too.
Me: Sleep tight, babydoll.
Claire: I’ll call you when I wake up.
I wake up from my nap and head over to Cora’s apartment feeling much more relaxed now that I know I’ll be hitting the breaks soon. I knock on her door and it takes her almost ten minutes to answer. Though Claire and I both have keys to Cora’s apartment, we try not to barge in unless it’s obvious Cora can’t make it to the door.
The door swings open and she’s already walking away toward her recliner. “Tina’s coming over today. She’s rescheduling all her patients this week; something about a birthday party on Tuesday. I think she’s lying.”
“Tina’s always lying,” I say as I shut the door and make my way into the kitchen to check on the things Tina, Cora’s caregiver, never checks on; the things Claire taught me to check on when we first met. “Do you have anyone coming to look at the apartment this week?”
The apartment below me has only been empty for three weeks, but I’m going to have to sneak some extra funds into my rent check if Cora doesn’t find a new tenant soon. I can’t let her go broke just because Claire went back to school. After all, even though I’m pretty miserable over it, I am the one who encouraged her to go. I have to accept responsibility for the emptiness of Claire’s old apartment, and the void it’s left in Cora’s bank account as the landlady of this building. Of course, paying double the rent will cut into my savings, but I can do it for a few months—for Cora and Claire.
Everything is in order in the kitchen, but when I enter the living room Cora is already leaning back in the recliner with her eyes closed. For a moment I fear the worst.
“Cora?”
She waves me off. “Go home, honey. I’m not up for any fun and games today. All I can handle right now is a long senior citizen siesta. Tin
a will be here soon. Go do your water tricks.”
“You sure? I can hang out if you need some company. My class doesn’t start for ninety minutes.”
“Get out of here before I sick Bigfoot on you.”
Cora’s been more tired than usual lately. Tina says it’s normal for someone her age to have bouts of lethargy. I don’t like to think of Cora as any age, but I suppose there are certain truths one has to come to terms with when you reach the age of eighty-six. I haven’t told Claire. As far as she knows, Cora’s as spunky as ever. She doesn’t need anything else to worry about.
I make it to Shell Island an hour before class so I immediately jog out across the sand, surfboard under my arm, to get a feel for the surf. The water is choppy—it’s hurricane season—but I paddle out and chill on my board for a while as I watch the waves break on the shore.
The water ebbs beneath me and I think of Claire’s crazy meditation habit. It’s not much different from my need to surf. I can’t function if I’ve gone too long without immersing myself in the water, without feeling the power of the water pushing me. Surfing is a healthy addiction, like meditating.
Today I quit smoking. For good.
I leave everything in the water today. I should save something for my students, but they’re such beginners I don’t need much energy to teach them how to stand on a board in the sand. I start a new group of students today, even though I won’t be around next week to continue. Jason will pick up where I leave off. The first day is always the easiest.
I shake the ocean out of my hair as I come out of the water. A couple of girls in bikinis are standing next to Jason, my boss and the lead surf instructor at the academy. The girls smile and the shorter one whispers something in the other one’s ear as they watch me approach.
“What’s up, bro?” I say to Jason with a nod of my head.
Jason is thirty and still single so I’m used to the young female students fawning over both of us, but I’m not in the mood for it today.
“I thought you weren’t coming in today,” Jason says. “I already asked Nayla to take this class. She’s on her way.”
“I’ll text her to tell her I’m here.”
“This is Nadia and Brittany. They’re sisters and they’re part of the new class. We’re just waiting for Fred and Priscilla, the couple that came in last week.”
“Cool,” I reply without looking at the girls.
A long, awkward fifteen minutes pass before we decide that Fred and Priscilla are too late. We’ll have to start without them.
The first ten minutes of the lesson are always spent introducing the academy and myself and talking about what we’re going to be doing for our first lesson. When I’m done with my spiel both girls raise their hand like they’re in a fucking classroom. They can’t be much older than eighteen, if they’re even that old.
“You don’t have to raise your hands.”
The taller one, Nadia, speaks first. “We already took surf lessons in Carolina Beach last summer. Can we skip the stuff in the sand?”
Jason has already left us to go teach an intermediate class further down the beach. He doesn’t like me to skip the basics, even when a student insists, but I’m not exactly opposed to skipping the positioning and pop-up section of the lesson. I always have to put my hands on someone’s arms or legs to get them positioned correctly and I don’t feel comfortable touching these girls without Jason around.
“Yeah, we can skip that. Grab your board and we’ll paddle out.”
