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“Again, Detective. What?” Our waiter places my drink down, and I take another healthy sip.
“Where are you?” His tone is aggravated, demanding, and today is not the day to test my inner gangster.
“How is that any of your business, Detective?” I demand, yet don’t give him the chance to answer. I could care less about his reasons. “What I do or don’t isn’t any of your business, and since what was our agreement is now null after the man’s death, I suggest you lose my number. Don’t call me again.”
“Where. Are. You?”
“On vacation…so fuck off.” With that, I hang up and turn the damn thing off. My parents and Nat are the only ones who know I’ll be out of town for two weeks and heading to the Dominican Republic. They’re aware I’ll be staying at an all-inclusive resort, but not which one. “That guy just rubs me wrong.”
“He’s pushy,” she notes.
“Very much so, but he shouldn’t be calling again.” That call’s put me out, and I push the drink aside before standing. Our bill isn’t large, less than sixty, and I leave a hundred-dollar bill on the table before coming to Nat’s side and pulling her up and into a hug. “I’m going to go sit at the gate. Love you, babes.”
She squeezes me just as hard, rocking us a little from side to side. “You sure you don’t want me to tag along? I’ve got some vacation time saved up and—”
“I need some time on my own.”
“Fine.” Pulling back just enough to see my face, she pouts. “Go be all alone and mopey while I dodge that man of yours.”
“He’s not mine.”
“He is, Lynnie. And I have no doubt he’ll be coming for you.”
Tears build, but I won’t let them fall and blink rapidly. “For the first time, I don’t want him to come. A person can’t live like this…I can’t live like this, mami. I want more than empty words and false promises; Ivan will never be what I need him to be.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll hold him off your trail as long as I can. Go find yourself.”
Present…
A warm breeze sweeps over me while I nurse a shot of Mama Juana out on the water. I’m in a hammock watching the trees sway and birds fly overhead while silence surrounds me. It’s both depressing and therapeutic, yet exactly what I need at the moment.
There’s no escaping reality when the noises cease and you can hear yourself think.
And for forty-eight hours, that’s what I’ve done on this private slice of paradise that I’ve paid a fortune for. I’m but steps from the warm Caribbean waters at all times and far enough away from noisy tourists and the horny men offering me a private tour of the island.
Guest and staff alike.
Since landing, I’ve been hit on and asked to become someone’s Mrs. several times.
“Yet the one I want doesn’t see me.” I won’t deny it’s a blow to my self-esteem. That I wasn’t enough to fall in love with, but that’s life and if this place has taught me anything within my solitude, it’s that there’s a reason for everything.
Accepting reality hurts—that he’s not the man I thought he was—and causes my chest to feel as though it’s caving in, but there’s a lesson in that, too. I’ll survive. I’ll be stronger one day soon.
So I close my eyes while enjoying the last sip of my spiced rum and repeat my mantra:
I am enough.
In the distance, a merengue song starts playing, and it’s from a live band. It’s soothing and lulls me; I’m safe enough here to let my guard down, and I do, sinking slowly into a nice, relaxing nap. It’s easy to forget the world and those around me while the sun filters through the thin shade, warming my skin. While the water below laps at the shore.
This is what I needed.
Here, I find peace.
The atmosphere is off today. I don’t feel as alone with my solitude, and while swimming not far from the shore, there are eyes on me. The sensation is unmistakable, and goose bumps rise on my skin.
