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Adrian’s probably lonely.
Worried I’m ready to ditch him out of fear.
Or jerking off to comfort himself.
Probably all three of those things.
I pick up my phone and open our texts, my thumbs ready to type away. We haven’t actually texted each other all that much, surprisingly. We’re always seeing each other face-to-face instead. I start to type a message, just to see what he’s up to, whether he’s off work, lounging around at home, or still finishing up at the restaurant. Then I delete it and huff, annoyed with myself.
I know I said I need space.
But I can’t think straight under these conditions, and no amount of sitting out on the beach or eating pizza is going to cure my head of all of this noise.
Only one thing can do that.
I tuck my sketchpad away into my backpack, sling it over a shoulder, then slip out the front door. With the night air on my skin and the stars overhead, I make my way down the street toward the Quicksilver Strand. I pass a few couples out walking on the road that hugs the main tourist beach. The walk is longer than I expected, but gives me a lot of time to think, to emotionally recalibrate, and to just enjoy the nighttime beach town vibes.
When I finally reach the boardwalk, however, I find the restaurant closed and the lights shut off. I know. I very easily could have texted him first, but I was so eager to go for a walk, it didn’t seem to matter to me.
Maybe that was the point of this. Not to see Adrian, but to get some fresh air.
Now that I’ve got fresh air, I don’t know what to do.
Honestly, the beach is a bit intimidating at night. It’s dark, yet that doesn’t stop the water from roaring like an invisible, shapeless leviathan in the dark as the waves come in, especially standing here on the empty boardwalk alone.
Could I live here with Adrian?
Could we share his place while I make art, attend my classes, and get to know the artists in the area?
Is a life like that really possible?
I turn toward the sea, listening to the waves and letting the piercing darkness scare me for a while. My heart feels like an empty pit tonight. Whatever levity Vann was trying to give me with an afternoon on the beach and an evening with pizza and friends is long gone. When it comes down to it, all I have is myself and my nagging doubts.
My feet start to move, taking me off the boardwalk and onto the sand. I don’t know why, but I’m compelled to let them lead. You can call it an artist’s oftentimes deadly and insatiable curiosity for dark things.
Are Kelsey’s words getting to me?
I kick off my sandals, dig my bare toes into the sand, then walk up to the water, close enough that the waves start to race over my feet, up to the ankles. Then I stand there and stare into the nothingness ahead, listening.
“What would you do?” I ask the sea.
Waves rolling in.
Waves rushing away.
“Tell me,” I go on. “Tell me what I should do. Is my dad right? Is this dream I’m living here just a passing thing with no real merit? Or are Vann and his friends right, and I have something inside of me I should pursue?”
Waves rolling in.
Rushing away.
I’m probably standing on a jellyfish.
“As terrible as it sounds,” I admit out loud, “it feels like I should listen to my dad. Leaving home is scary. The world outside of it is full of decisions I never feel certain about when I make them. There’s no one there to tell me if I’m doing the right thing. And there’s no one here now … except you.”
Waves rolling in, rushing off, rolling in …
“I’m at a fork in the road. I don’t know which way to go. Too much is at stake one way or another. My art will die if I go home. I know it will. It’s almost mathematical, how fucking certain I am about that.”
The wind blasts in my ears, like it’s screaming.
“And I will lose Adrian, too,” I go on. Then my heart seems to jump, thinking of him. “And even if I stay, even if I choose art … what guarantee do I have that Adrian really will stand by my side to help me? I can’t stay at Vann and Toby’s forever. I can’t do this alone, can I?”
A tear stings my eye. Or maybe it’s sea spray in the air from the waves. My legs feel heavy. I crouch down at once and the water laps over my knees, making my shorts wet. I don’t know what’s happening. I think I’m trying to have a nervous breakdown, but I’m too stubborn to admit it.
