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Cora
The sun burnsfiery as it collides with the horizon.
Over the last week, I have visited the beach every evening. Sat in the same exact spot and nestled my feet in the warm sand. Watched the sun plummet into the water and fizzle into darkness. Smelled the mustiness of the dampened earth. Felt the salty breeze brush against my skin and whip my hair across my face.
Every night is different. The way the sun glows, how the sky changes colors, the scents in the air and on my skin, the sounds of the waves crashing or people chatting, how the breeze fluctuates. All of it. One night, I sat here in the rain. Actually, it was a downpour. But I refused to leave. If anything, I compared the changes in the atmosphere to the temperance of my mood. Like Mother Earth was going through mood swings and taking me on the journey. And I plan to embrace every leg of said journey.
A half hour after the sun is no longer visible, I rise from the sand and walk back toward my car. The drive home is forgotten, and at times I am surprised I make it home in one piece. I recall getting in my car and parking in the driveway, but nothing in between. Every day is the same.
I unlock the back door and flip on the lights. The scent of daily flower deliveries dying on my kitchen counter permeates the air. For the last five days, a new bouquet of flowers has arrived on my front doorstep. Red roses. White roses. Yellow roses. A mixed variety of roses. And a mixed variety of non-roses.
Each bouquet from my mom and Shelly’s florist shop. Each bouquet sent with a small note. And I read each one of them. Absorb all the words. Unlike the text messages I continue to get from Gavin.
The notes sweet and short.
I miss you, baby.
Sunsets are never the same without you.
Tu es les étoiles de ma lune.
Can we watch Lord of the Rings on repeat for a week straight?
Soon, baby. Soon.
Surely, my mom and Shelly are enjoying Gavin’s whole charade a little more than most people. And as bad as my house started smelling yesterday, I can’t throw any of the flowers away. I just can’t. Maybe I should dry them. Drying them would at least eliminate the funk in the air.
Luna weaves figure eights between my legs, purring and mewling as we head toward her bowl. After I give her a scoop of food and a few pets, I head to my room to change clothes. I love the scent of the beach—it conjures up so many wonderful memories—but I don’t enjoy the constant sand on my skin. Beach sand is nature’s equivalent to glitter.
A few days ago, Shelly stated we were going out. There was no asking and I wasn’t allowed to refuse. Everyone was going and we were visiting the nightclub Micah works at in Tampa. Although I didn’t want to go, I had no energy to fight Shelly. So I caved. It wasn’t worth the argument.
I riffle through my closet and grab a pair of black skinny jeans and an equally black short-sleeve top. On a normal night, I would brush my hair and make myself look presentable. But since I currently give no fucks… I drag my hair up, combing it with my fingers, and securing it with an elastic band. It’s sloppy and tired looking and I don’t give a shit. If Shelly wants to force me to go out, she will suffer the consequences of my appearance.
Undoubtedly, Shelly will give me a ration of shit, but whatever. She can suck it up like I am.
Minutes later, a knock raps at the door. “It’s open,” I scream, louder than necessary.
The door opens and three pairs of feet trample across my wood floor. I remain on the couch, staring at the unlit fireplace. Visually tracing the rough grain of the chopped raw wood in the firebox. Pondering if I will ever get to light a fire and snuggle close to Gavin. I briefly close my eyes and take a deep breath. Nowadays, no breaths seem deep enough.
“Why the hell is your back door unlocked?” Shelly asks in her best motherly tone.
And I don’t want to listen to her lecture me, just because it is all I have heard for days. If she felt an inkling of what I do, she wouldn’t bother with such frivolity. “Because I’ve only been home for fifteen minutes and knew you guys would be here soon.”
Shelly walks over to me and points her finger in my face, her other hand on her hip. “That’s no excuse. Lock your freaking door.”
I shake my head at her. “Yeah, sure thing Mom.”
Erin and Jonas walk over and stand beside Shelly. I scan them head to toe. Everyone looks great. Hair, attire, overall presence. Me? Looks like I rolled out of bed five seconds ago. But I am not out to impress anyone, so who cares. If people stare, let them.
“You ready to go?” Jonas asks, voice soft with a hint of concern.
“Yeah, let me lock up and we can go.” I smirk at Shelly and rise from the couch. I give Luna a couple pets and kisses, then we head out.
The drive to Tampa is a blur. Traffic is busy as usual, but I just stare at the lights along the highway. Shelly, Erin, and Jonas try to include me in more than one conversation, but I wiggle my way out of each one. Nothing I have to say matters right now, so it is better just to stay silent and stare out the window.
After we find a place to park, we walk down the sidewalk to the club. Music shakes the walls of the surrounding buildings. Car exhaust floats in the air. Bright headlights blind us as we head to the club’s entrance. And I am numb to it all.
Once inside, we find a tall tabletop with stools near the bar. Jonas goes to the bar and buys us all a round. When he returns with our drinks, I practically chug the entire beer. Tonight will be a long night. One of many, unfortunately.
