AllFreeNovel
Share Us
All that is to say, I miss Harrison. I miss him showing up at my door. I miss having him around. My life is too simple and quiet and boring without him in it. Which seems ironic, considering his quiet demeanor. But he brings out a side of me that makes me feel more alive, and at the end of the day, isn’t that what everyone wants? To feel like they’re getting more out of the short lives we’ve been given? To feel like they’re participating in life instead of just being a bystander?
All I know is, the feelings are still there, and even with the distance, I don’t think they’re going anywhere. Truthfully, I’ve never been with someone who made me feel good about myself.
Not that I’m with him. Not that I was with him.
But damn. The way he looked at me. The way he kissed my hand, my face. The words he said.
That was something.
That was everything.
And I could tell that it was something to him too.
Something that scared him.
To say I haven’t been replaying that scene on the dock over the last two weeks would be a lie. It’s all I think about. The burning intensity in his eyes, the rough yearning in his voice, the way his large, strong hands felt around the small of my waist or cupped at the back of my head. His lips. Those damn beautiful lips that didn’t even touch mine and yet felt more erotic, more intimate, more meaningful, than any deep kiss.
And that’s all you’ll get, I tell myself as I pull the Garbage Pail into my parking space. A non-kiss to fantasize about for the rest of your life.
I sigh and look around, my heart always beating a little faster when I get home, hoping for a glimpse of him. Obviously he’s never to be found.
I get out of the car and smooth out my dress. Today I decided to go into town with a book and sit down on the patio at the café to read, sip iced coffee, nibble on a cinnamon bun, and take my sweet time enjoying the hot weather, all while I knew Amy was inside glaring at me through the windows. On the advice of my therapist to do things that make me feel confident, I put on one of my favorite summer dresses, a yellow-and-white gingham pattern with spaghetti straps and fitted at the bust, the kind of dress you can twirl in.
I grab my straw purse and head inside the house. My mother is on the deck, snoozing in a deck chair, her chin tucked into her chest. Liza is splat on the ground at her feet, her belly rising with each breath. It rarely gets scorching hot on the island thanks to the constant ocean breezes, but today is one of those days when our lack of air conditioning really shows. I go around opening up all the windows to the house to get fresh air in, and by the time I’m done, beads of sweat are on my brow.
I decide it’s probably a good time to escape the heat and do laundry. The basement is always cool no matter what. I grab my laundry basket from my bedroom, tossing my paperback on top of it, and then head downstairs and down the side of the house to the bottom back door. It already feels cooler here.
I open the door and step inside, and just as I realize I must have left the light on at some point, I see Harrison standing by the dryer. I come to a dead stop, the laundry basket nearly falling from my hands.
“What are you doing here?” I exclaim, sounding more accusatory than I mean to.
Harrison’s eyes are wide, not covered by his aviators. He shifts from one foot to the other, seeming wary and unsure, two qualities I never see in him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “The dryer still isn’t fixed, so I came by and your mother was home. She said it was no problem if I used yours again.”
I raise my laundry basket higher and walk across the concrete floor toward him, my flip-flops smacking noisily. I wish he didn’t look like he was caught red-handed.
“I suppose it was a relief when you found out I’d gone,” I tell him, putting the laundry basket on top of the washer. I fold my arms across my chest and lean back against it, looking him in the eye. I’m not going anywhere.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he goes on, looking away and skirting past what I said. “The guy that was supposed to fix the dryer never showed up. He’s been supposed to show up for the last five days.”
I give him a dry smile. “Island life strikes again.”
“I wouldn’t have come if I’d . . .”
