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Prologue
Present Day (Summer 2001)
Willow
I never thought I’d be doing this during my first summer of true independence, but I am. When David told me he thought we should end things, I assumed it was another one of his dumb jokes. I mean, we’d been together for four years. We were talking about marriage, and then he just out of the blue wanted to end the relationship. I truly wasn’t sure what to think. I basically wasted all of college dating him, and now here I was truly on my own for the first time, and single to boot.
“You know he is a douche bag,” my roommate and best friend, Aimee, called from where she attempting to bake something in our tiny kitchen. “You deserve better.”
“You’re right, I do deserve better,” I muttered as I flipped through the mail, separating the bills from the junk. When I was kid, I begged for mail. My mom would sigh and tell me to wait until I was older. I get it now. All the mail is junk or someone wanting money. “I just wish he’d have ended it sooner. I feel like I don’t have time to meet people now.”
Aimee and I have been friends since elementary school. We were roommates in college, and then after graduation, we got an apartment together. She’s working as an apprentice with a fashion designer. I went the practical route, as my parents say, and got a teaching degree. I’m not sure how practical it is, though. I work all the time, bring work home, spend my own money on my classroom, and have parents who complain that I don’t do enough for their kids. Middle school is hard. I once had a friend that asked me why I’d want to work with puberty every day. Sometimes, I ask myself that exact question. The only good thing is summers off. School ended last week, and I’ve been trying to decide if I want to get a summer job or not.
“You know, we should take a vacation.” Aimee’s head popped around the corner.
“Like where? It’s boring around here.” I flopped back against the cushion behind me. My eyes swung to the right to make contact with a picture of David and me. We were smiling and all I wanted to do was wipe the smile off his face.
“What about your parents’ beach house? Do they even still own it?” Aimee’s brows wagged. My parents bought this old beach house when we were kids. We spent a week every summer there. They rented it out the rest of the time to help pay for it. The thing looked like something right out of a seventies movie, but it was the beach, so we didn’t care.
“I don’t know if it’s available. I’d have to ask.” The wheels started turning in my head. A week on the sand was just what I needed. “We’d have to keep it just us, and clean before we left,” I warned. Aimee had a habit of inviting too many friends along at times. I’ve come home to an apartment full of people I didn’t know.
“Well, check.” She started tapping away on her phone, and then her face lit up with a giant grin. “I’ve got half the week off. We’ll take two cars.” She did a little happy dance, and then stared at me. “What’d they say?”
I’d texted my mom and was waiting for an answer. The three little dots kept appearing and then they’d disappear. “She’s thinking, apparently.” I rolled my eyes. I’d never asked her this, and she didn’t know David and I broke up, so she probably thinks I’m wanting to spend the week with him. “She said yes.” I blinked as I stared at the phone. A long-winded message about how they hadn’t rented it out in over a year followed by how we’d need to air it out and clean popped up, but nothing about David. “I guess she trusts me.” I shrugged as I tossed the phone on the coffee table.
“Sweet.” Aimee danced again. “I’m going to pack. Let’s leave tomorrow.” She rushed out of the room, and that’s when I smelled it; whatever she was baking was burning.
“Hey, Aim?” I called. “You’re on fire!” Smoke wafted out of the kitchen, and Aimee rushed back in.
“Shit!” she hissed as the oven door slammed shut. “Guess these are going in the trash.” After a bit of banging around, she opened a window, and then went about her packing. I, however, let my anger at David build. Everywhere I looked, I saw him. The vase I’d kept from the flowers he sent, the sweatshirt I’d stolen from him when I stayed over and was cold, a massive amount of pictures that I hadn’t taken down yet. It was as if I hoped it was all a dream, and he’d change his mind. I stood, letting my anger reach epic proportions, grabbed a box, and began expelling him from my life. I stormed through our tiny space, tossing whatever had a memory attached to it into the box. Things weren’t going back to the way they were, and I needed to use this anger before it became hurt.
“Atta girl,” Aimee called when I stormed into the bathroom, and grabbed the body wash I continued to use because David liked it. When I finally finished purging him from my life, I stalked down to my car, and shoved the box in the back seat. Was I doing something dumb? Yes, but I didn’t care. I drove over to his house, and left the box on his front yard with a ‘free’ sign. He could keep it, or give it to whomever he wanted. I just didn’t want the stuff in my sight anymore.
I stood there for a few minutes just staring at the house. I wondered if any of his friends who lived with him would come out. Their cars were in the drive, so I knew they were home. Shaking my head, I got back in and went home.
“Felt good, didn’t it?” Aimee was grinning from the doorway as I climbed the steps.
“It didn’t feel bad.” I laughed. “I need a drink, and then we’re getting ready for this trip.”
She swung her arm around my shoulder as I passed, and we both started laughing.
ooooooooo
I haven’t been to the beach house since high school. It used to be my favorite place on Earth, until the summer of my junior year. My dad worked with a man, Cliff Bradshaw, who owned the house three doors down from us. They had two sons: Russell, and Casey. Russ was my age, and Casey was seven years older. When I first started noticing boys, he wasn’t around much. He’d gone away to college, and worked during the summers. The summer I turned sixteen, he’d graduated and was helping his dad remodel their beach house. I spent that summer lusting from afar as a shirtless Casey helped put a new roof on the house. That was also the same summer when I met his fiancé.
I haven’t thought about Casey Bradshaw in six years. I don’t even know if the Bradshaws still own the house. I wonder where Casey is and how he’s doing?
I climbed into bed after checking my suitcase one last time, and fell asleep to memories of my last trip to the beach. I knew once I breathed in the salty air, and heard the waves crashing, that all thoughts of David and my troubles would melt away.
