I bolt before he can formulate an answer.
It’s what I’m good at.
Running.
My phone buzzes for the umpteenth time, rattling the nightstand beside my head. I’ve spent most of the day in bed feeling sorry for myself. Even Clo didn’t want to be around me. The life I belong to back in New York, though, won’t leave me alone.
I snatch my phone off the charger and squint to see who’s bothering me this time. There are many missed texts, but a few stand out more than others.
Kayla: Send proof of life. Here’s mine!
It’s a selfie of her holding her iced coffee in front of our favorite spot. My chest aches. I miss her.
Mom: I sent you some money in case you need it for dealing with your grandma’s affairs. I can come down there if it gets overwhelming, but things are busy at the office since I already took off for the funeral. Ron’s clients are helpless without me to baby them. You know how they are.
Another wave of guilt assaults me. She handled the funeral service and burial without me. Surely, I can handle the house.
Denver: You’ve been a ghost since you flew out of here. I’m juggling my schedule to see if I can break for a couple of days to come be with you.
This time, a wave of disgust ripples through me. Not at myself for once. Right now, I reminded of how unhappy I am with my boyfriend. We really do need a break.
On paper, Denver is great. Owns his own company, good looking enough to be on California swimwear ads, and has a pearly smile that seals every deal. I’m sure I’m the token accessory in his perfect world. I’ve been an agreeable, gracious, content girlfriend who wanted to help his company succeed.
Now, I’m not so sure.
Denver never created fire inside me. We just sort of fit once introduced by mutual friends of ours. When things were going well, I had no reason to question it. But, after choosing to help him over my grandma’s funeral, the resentment that I have growing toward him feels enormous. Like a massive mountain I’ll never be able to climb over.
Where does that leave us?
I’m not sure I have the mental capacity to deal with it at the moment. I might say something I regret later. Once I leave Budgie Bay and head back to the city, I’ll likely let some of this resentment go. Surely.
Until then, I shoot all three of them a generic, similar variation text of “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. See you soon.”
A soft knock on my door forces me to sit up. I pull Grandma’s robe on and pad my bare feet over to the door.
“Oh, hey,” I croak out when I see Elias standing on the other side. Clo sits on his shoulder. “Hey, Clo.”
He chirps and then flies past me to sit on top of his cage. “Just put a lasagna in the oven. Can you check on it in about forty minutes? I need to run to my sister’s right quick. She’s going to give my hair and beard a trim. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never hear the end of it from Mom.”
“Yeah, sure.”
He’s gone in the next instant. My heart warms at how close he is with his family. I’d always wanted a big, chaotic family, but never had it. I’m a third generation of “only child” women in my family. Kind of lonely when you don’t have siblings.
While I wait on the lasagna, I make my way over to Grandma’s little desk and sit in front of her laptop. I’ve been curious to take a peek but haven’t had the nerve to look until now. Before I can talk myself out of it, I flip it open and am met with a password screen. Because she was old and didn’t understand the necessity for security, her password is taped to the laptop right above the keyboard.
budgiemom1978
My lips curve into a small smile as I type it in. Then, I’m granted entry to her computer. It’s still open to an online solitaire game. The game has a timer on it and it’s going on two weeks since she last played it. Grief floods my chest and I shakily minimize the game screen. Her desktop is a picture of her and Grandpa Amos when they were young, probably in their twenties or early thirties. They’re grinning at each other as they sit on a dock, Budgie Bay in the background.
I never knew Grandpa Amos, but I know the look he’s giving her in the picture. It’s pure, unfiltered, unapologetic love and adoration for the woman he’s smiling at. She stares at him as if he hangs the moon.
Denver’s never looked at me that way. With affection and, at times, intense attraction, but never so obsessed.
As far as me?
I certainly don’t think he hangs the moon.
Shoving away those unhelpful thoughts, I scan her desktop to see if there’s anything I should take a peek at. The folders are all over the place, not at all arranged neatly, but I find the one I’m looking for quickly enough.
