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The memory of those weeks I lived here with Perry as his friend was good, but the months that followed after Lucas was seriously injured came back as jarring as the experience itself had been. After all the upheaval of the shooting and assault of Clint and Lucas, the final weekend spent here had been joyous and full of promise. That particular weekend was when we all said goodbye to Perry’s mansion… and Jack.
Turning back to the ocean, I cupped my hands over my eyes and stared out at the vast nothingness, unsure of what I expected to see. The memory of Lucas and Perry holding Jack’s ashes, contained in a dissolvable package, flashed through my mental book of important memories. That event had felt like a final goodbye, but now I wasn’t so sure.
I sat on the sand, closed my eyes, and let the salty breeze fill my head with calm. The waves comforted my nerves, and I allowed the sadness I felt to envelop me, hoping I could center my thoughts on something positive.
The past seven months had left me feeling incomplete. I did better when attached to a person I cared about. I thrive under those circumstances because I’m happiest when in love. I had so convinced myself that Clint was my journey that I failed to see clear signs that perhaps he wasn’t feeling the same confidence that I had in his ability to love a man. Of course, that man had been me, so naturally I’d been blind.
The desire to rescue someone is not always a good recipe for success in love. I let myself believe Clint needed me because he was all alone in the hospital. No family visited other than an ex-wife, and that had been a train wreck of a visit. Finding out that he was back with Rhonda really made me question what we’d had.
“I’m lost, Jack,” I whispered, tears pouring from my eyes. “Don’t ask me why I’m here, because I don’t exactly know why myself.”
My arms were crossed over my chest, consoling, concealing, and protecting a hole in my heart. The sun was setting behind me, its warmth reflecting off of my exposed skin as I continued looking for something, someone.
“Are you okay, young man?”
I jumped at the voice, looking up at an older gentleman inquiring about my well-being. “Yeah, I think so,” I stammered.
“May I?” he asked, pointing at the sand beside me. I nodded, and he carefully sat beside me, letting out a few sounds of discomfort as he positioned himself. “You’re upset,” he said, gesturing toward my tear-streaked face. I smiled through the tears, thankful for his concern. He continued. “The ocean can do that to a person.” He turned and pointed out to sea, his frail arm barely staying aloft. “All the mystery that lies within her depths.”
“I was thinking of someone,” I admitted. “We laid him to rest right here.”
“Came to say hi, did ya?”
“Something like that,” I replied. “I think he knows I’m here.”
“I’m certain he does,” he agreed, quickly changing the subject. “You from around here?” he asked, turning back to me, focusing on me with alert eyes. His face was quite wrinkled, but you could see he’d been a looker in his day. His eyes were as bright blue as a robin’s egg. Clear and vibrant. His face read as eighty-plus years, but his eyes argued that he was a newborn.
“Virginia Beach.”
“Hmmm,” he said, scratching at his chin. “Long way away, son.”
“I have good memories from that house behind us,” I stated, motioning over my shoulder and toward Perry’s former home. “Although we gave my friend to the sea that day, the experience was incredibly beautiful, so I felt drawn to return.”
“Death can be that way,” he said. “Draws some in, scares some away,” he added. “Most folks don’t see it as the wondrous thing that it is. They think it’s the end of everything. Damn shame really,” he added, picking at his sleeve. I noticed his old flannel shirt was frayed and faded. For a neighborhood of super wealth, I was surprised by his attire. “Imagine the freedom death offers,” he added.
“You don’t think death is the end?” I asked.
“Nope.” I waited for further explanation, but he ended with his simple answer.
We sat in silence as I thought about the day everyone had gathered in the same spot. Clint and Lucas had healed physically. Perry and Lucas had found their way to love, even if Jack had to work extra hard to get the two strong-willed men to admit they were destined to be together. Clint and I were at the beginning of our romance. Jack could finally rest.
Yet, here I was again, not all that long after. Waiting, wondering, needing advice or some kind of sign from a friend I’d never met.
“Is he talking to you yet?” the stranger asked.
“Maybe he’s gone,” I muttered, feeling rejected and lower than I wanted to admit. My eyes released their hurt as I dragged a toe across the sand, fighting a lump in my throat that seemed to be stuck near my heart.
“He ain’t gone,” he said. “And in case you’re wondering, we never leave. Not entirely anyway.”
I quickly turned to face him. “We?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered. “Me, my missus, your buddy Jack.”
“I never told you his name was Jack,” I said, furrowing my brow in question.
He held his chin, tilting his eyes to the sky. “So you didn’t.”
“Are you from around here? Did you know Jack?” I asked, thinking he’d been a friend or neighbor of Perry and Jack’s from earlier on.
