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I’m all over the place. I can’t concentrate. Can’t focus. Can’t bring myself to look him in the eyes without feeling guilty.
Tears are threatening to water my eyes but it is too late, the heaviness in my chest is unbearable and I need to let it all burst.
The dam of tears has opened; water trickles down my cheeks, and into the ocean, they vanish. Like Jamey, one minute he was here, the next he was gone.
After I relax, I grab the surfboard and get out.
Layers of sand stick to my feet as I walk to the trail that leads to Dean’s backyard, and something pokes the sole of my feet on the way.
I take an inch backward and I stump on another object.
Two beautiful seashells rest on the sand—as if someone put them there—I collect them right as a welcoming purr graces my ears, and then Scar meows when I enter Dean’s backyard.
I put the board against the fence.
“Hey, cutie.” I pet his head and he rubs himself against me in return. “How come you’re not part of the household already?”
He purrs again as if answering.
“You think he doesn’t like you?” I lie down on the beach chair and Scar sits next to me while I continue to brush his fur. “He named you so you must be special to him after all.”
No one gives nicknames for free unless they have a reason to give the name in the first place. It’s something trivial but not really. I wouldn’t have given someone or a pet a name or a nickname if they were insignificant to me.
It automatically entangles the two and adds an emotional layer.
“I think he’s just afraid of a commitment. He doesn’t want to lock you inside his house when you can roam freely like him. He always travels. That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
As I say those words out loud a realization strikes me, maybe that’s the reason why he does the same thing about us.
He is used to it.
That’s his lifestyle.
No promises. No commitments. No relationships.
“Why is it so hard, Scar?” figuring out someone when you made it clear you’re interested in them but you get nothing in return. All you hear is silence and unanswered questions.
When he speaks, my whole body likes what I’m hearing. What is a woman supposed to do with that? It’s unfair.
On one hand, I want to rip his clothes off and hear him whispering seductive words into my ears. On the other hand, I know it can’t happen. I’m working for him and this whole situation is ridiculous. It’s just a voice. I hear men talking all the time and that shouldn’t affect me.
Yet it does.
He does.
My stomach whisks. My brain works hours on end, trying to decipher what it is I should do. And my bones are exhausted, holding on to the bit of strength I possess.
“One more push, Len. Remember, it’s all about your mindset and what you give power to. You have the tools to decide for yourself what is right for you. Just breathe.”
I take my Polaroid camera from my bag and snap a picture of me and Scar—he meows and I stick my tongue out. I want a memory of him, he’s going to the Hall of Fame that is my windshield.
Gotta hand it to him, he’s been persistent since the minute I came here.
I brush his head, “You like that.”
He presses his head farther into my palm.
I have to work on my skills and exercise to better myself. No distractions. That’s what I came here for and I can’t let anyone, especially someone who ignores what we shared affect me.
