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Her honesty sent a new shockwave of sadness through me. I wanted to scream and kick and tell her how wrong she was and that running wasn’t the answer, but I didn’t. I didn’t, because she had just buried the love of her life and would never be the same. The only way for her to truly move on was to go where no one knew her. Where she could leave the past in the dust as she tore out of here. Where the memories couldn’t haunt her at Beach Break Campground, the mall, and their apartment. I knew this was what she needed, but I didn’t understand the why.
When I woke, the trailer was pitch-black. At some point, Midnight had jumped up and wedged herself between the couch and my back. Glancing at the retro analog clock on the wall told me it was well past dinnertime.
“I’m sorry, baby.” She stretched and climbed on top of me as I rolled onto my back. I cupped her little head in the palm of my hands and scratched lightly. “What I wouldn’t give to be you right now.”
She scooted off of me as I sat up. My ankle throbbed angrily, and the cuts on my knees and hands stung. Pulling off the blanket, I discovered my ankle had doubled in size. Frowning, I realized I should have iced it soonerand cleaned all my wounds. Dry blood caked my knees and stained the couch.
After I fed Midnight, I grabbed the first aid kit and the soft ice pack and hobbled back to the couch, stretching my leg out so I could wrap the ice pack around my ankle while I disinfected the scrapes on my knees. The gashes weren’t as bad as I thought once they were all cleaned up. My hands were in even better shape. I made it out with minimal damage, after all. My ankle, however, was another story. I couldn’t drive myself to the urgent care, so I settled on wrapping it for now.
My stomach grumbled in frustration, but eating didn’t sound the least bit appealing, so I just grabbed a banana, showered, and crawled into bed with Midnight curled up next to me. I didn’t eat much these days. Bridger and I had been huge foodies, but after he died, everything just lost its appeal. Now I just ate enough to survive, and as a result, the stubborn forties fat had melted off my hips and thighs over the months. Now, I had to fold the band of my sweats to keep them up, only catering more to the hippie vibe I had unintentionally embraced. Such a far cry from the days when I did my hair and makeup every day. I used to care what I looked like. I even liked dressing up. Genesis had inspired an appreciation for making an effort. She took me under her wing after I started swooning over Bridger. But now I had ventured so far from who I used to be that I wasn’t sure if I even recognized myself.
I spent so much time worrying about what others thought of me only to wind up here. Alone. Not caring. What was it all for? The nice clothes, expensive furnishings?
The memories.
Moving forward seemed utterly impossible. It had already been almost two years, and I had made no progress. I once heard that time would heal. Well, time could go fuck herself, because she had abandoned me and left me gripping on to an affliction like an uncured disease. Time didn’t heal. All time did was tease of better things that would never come.
My dad left my mom when I was twelve. I remembered my mom’s best friend comforting her on the couch, drinking what she referred to as adult beverages. I stayed home from school that week and eavesdropped as I had cried silently on the stairs.
“It was a long time coming,” she reminded my mom.
“But damn, if it doesn’t still hurt,” my mom replied as she wiped her damp cheek.
What did she mean it was a long time coming? She knew Daddy wanted to leave us? Why wouldn’t she tell me? I could have begged him to stay. He could never say no to me.
“It’ll get easier. Time will heal,” she told my mom.
How could time possibly heal? Did it heal like a scab? Did it leave behind a scar? Would it heal me?
When my dad left us, I thought I would never see him again, but I was wrong. I spent every weekend with him, and it was almost as if nothing had changed. Except my mom cried in her bed at night sometimes and dazed out the window with a glass of wine in her hand on most days. Time never healed her, and when my mom and Bridger died, time didn’t heal me either.
Levi
It had been days since I saw Charlee with two e’sand it was driving me insane.The only comfort I took was seeing the lights in her trailer turn on in the morning and off in the evening. As long as that kept happening, I knew she was alive, at least.
It had taken everything in me to resist the urge to knock on her door to check on her. Drew caught me trying to the day after the accident and stopped me.
“Dude, give her a few days. Don’t be so needy,” he teased.
I stepped away from the invisible boundary separating her space from the public beach and instead went surfing with Drew. If I kept myself busy, I wouldn’t think or worry about her, but, clearly, that wasn’t the case because all I seemed to do was obsessively stare at her trailer, just from a different location.
“You haven’t caught a single wave, dude. Get with it,” Drew teased.
I had stolen one last glance at her trailer and then headed into the next set.
That was three days ago. I stalked the café at her usual time, and nothing. I figured I’d at least see her on her porch or walking her dog, but she was nowhere to be seen. It was unnerving.
“Do you want me to check on her?” Drew asked as we floated in the water on our boards, both of us now gazing at her trailer.
“What? Why? How is that any different than me going?” My defensive tone garnered a strange look from him.
“That’s why.” He pointed at me. “You have that lovesick boy vibe going on, and that’s not what she’s looking for.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “And you are what she’s looking for?” I scoffed.
He shook his head. “No, dude, but it’s what she needs. A person to talk to that has zero expectations of her.”
“What the hell,dude?”I hated that he called me that. “Don’t act like you’re not attracted to her.”
