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I finished my coffee and cake, and decided to browse the nearby stores. There was nothing I needed to buy, but I hoped looking at pretty things would distract my mind.
No such luck.
Everything reminded me of Liam.
The shade of blue of the curtains hanging in the first store reminded me of his eyes.
A surfboard on the wall in the next store was an even worse reminder.
Leaving that store and walking the streets, I looked up to find a white Jeep Cherokee passing me. I craned my neck to see the driver, but it wasn’t Liam. I couldn’t decide if the feeling in the pit of my stomach was relief or sadness. Maybe it was a mix of both.
I eventually found myself at the beach. I kicked off my flip-flops and held them in my hand as I walked through the sand. It was warm and soft beneath my feet, and a few random critters ran about hiding in small holes dug into the sand.
It was windy near the water, and my hair whipped around in my face obscuring my vision.
Or maybe that was the tears in my eyes.
Eventually, I found a spot of beach that wasn’t as busy, and I took a seat in the sand. I wished I’d brought a blanket, but I hadn’t had the foresight.
I did have my sketchbook, though.
I pulled it from my bag and grabbed a pencil. I quickly flipped through the pages, passing by the multitude of drawings of Liam as fast as I could. I was certain even a glimpse of him in a sketch would make me sob. The memories were bad enough.
I found a clean page and smoothed my fingers over the rough textured paper. I adjusted my position, trying to get comfortable,
and something fluttered out from between the pages.
The wind picked it up and it started to fly away, but I quickly snagged it and turned it around.
A strangled sound escaped my throat.
It was a photo taken by Liam and the image was in black and white, like all his prints. I was sitting in the tall beach grass with my legs bent and my sketchpad resting on them. My dark hair whipped around me, and I was completely absorbed by whatever I was drawing. Even my tongue peeked out the smallest bit between my lips, further showing my complete concentration.
I wondered when he’d slipped the photo into my sketchpad.
Oh God, he probably saw all the drawings I had of him. Yeah, because that wasn’t embarrassing or anything.
I glanced at the photo one more time before sliding it into the back of the sketchpad. I did my best to dismiss the photo from my mind, but it was difficult.
I ended up staying at the beach for several hours and left when I grew hungry.
Instead of going back to Rebecca’s for dinner, I stopped at a restaurant a few miles away. I figured since it was my last day—and now night—in Malibu, I was allowed to splurge a little bit.
After I finished eating, I headed to the nearest Western Union to transfer the money to the landlord in order to secure my apartment.
From there, I wandered the streets some more.
A large part of me didn’t want to go back to Rebecca’s because once I did, it symbolized the finality of what I was doing.
I jumped in surprise when the phone in my pocket beeped.
It was a cheap, old phone of Rebecca’s that she’d insisted I use since I didn’t have one. Since nothing could be tied back to me, I’d accepted it.
I grabbed the phone and squinted down that the text message shining on the screen.
Rebecca: SOS! Darren needs u 2 come in. Emergency.
I stared down questioningly at the text and then called her. I was sent straight to voicemail.
