Unconditional
Page 13
“Are you OK?” Brit pauses, looking at me. She doesn’t know anything about my past before I came to Beachwood Bay, nobody does.
“What? Sure, I’m fine.” I shake my head, trying to dislodge the shame and guilt of forgetting. “I just…I’m in the middle of payroll.”
“Fine,” Brit replies cheerfully. “Never mind me. You go work, I’ll just be here, watching my hopes and dreams go up in smoke.”
“Sure, thanks,” I mumble, backing away. I return to the office and close the door behind me, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the desk drawer. I slump in the chair and take a gulp, wincing at the fierce burn of alcohol.
But it’s not enough.
When I close my eyes, I can see them, playing in the sprinklers on the lawn. My wife, my baby girl. The two most precious things in the world. In my dreams, they’re happy and laughing, calling out for me to come join them.
In my dreams, they’re still right here with me.
Everything I had. Everything I lost.
A life I tried to hold onto that’s never coming back.
I sit there in the dim light, and let the memories swirl around me like summer sunshine. Nobody knows the truth I’ve been hiding, and I swore they never will. Carina called me a man-whore, acting like all I wanted was some fun before moving on to the next girl, but she doesn’t know the truth. One night is all I can allow myself, a brief connection in the darkness, a moment of peace. Escape from the knowledge that I’ll always be alone.
I wanted more, once, but more is a lie.
Dating, relationships, it’s all a waste of time. There’s no point play-acting like there’s a chance of a tomorrow when I know I don’t have anything in me left to offer.
I tried it once, I gave everything I have, and look what it got me: drinking whiskey alone in the afternoon, knowing that no bottle is big enough to drown the sorrow and emptiness of a love that’s left behind.
Two years to the day, and it still hurts like hell. The first two years of the rest of my life. I take another swig of whiskey, and wonder if the pain will ever go away.
I pray to God it will, one day. And these days, prayers are all I’ve got.
5
I’m crazy for coming here. Certifiable. This place has no Starbucks within a fifty-mile radius, barely enough hot water to take a bath, and as for Garrett…
That man is a dangerous.
Dangerously sexy, you mean.
It’s clear that I can’t stay. As soon as Garrett leaves, I grab my suitcase and hit the road again, but I only I make it as far as the highway intersection before I pull over on the side of the road and sit, engine running, my mind a whirlwind of doubts.
I can’t go back, not just yet. I can’t face Alexander and that shell of a house. And right now, I have nowhere else to go.
So I stay.
One more day, then two, then three. I keep out of Garrett’s way, out running in the morning before he leaves for work, and back in my room at night, watching reruns on the old TV and trying to drown out the chorus of insecurities in my mind. I’m treading water, I know. Killing time. I keep hoping that if I wait long enough, the answers will just come to me: that I’ll magically know what I’m supposed to do, now that my life is in pieces and I don’t have any other plans.
But the answers don’t come, so I stay.
The third morning, I wake at dawn as usual and quickly dress in my workout gear. I creep downstairs and out the back door, crossing the yard to where the grass meets the dunes. The ocean crashes against the shore, and although there’s still a morning chill biting in the breeze, the sky is blue and clear, the sun rising bright in the sky.
It’s beautiful here, so far from the world.
I stretch, breathing the crisp air into my lungs, and then take off down the beach at a steady pace. I run five miles every day, it’s the only way I’ve found to keep from losing my mind, the one time I can turn my brain off from the endless list of social engagements and new projects — the true unhappiness of life. Now, my feet pound on the wet sand and I feel the tension in my limbs ease with every step, pushing my body through the doubt and insecurities, to the place where my mind is clear and I can leave it all behind—Alexander’s anger, Garrett’s dark eyes, that big empty house that I thought represented everything I wanted—until there’s nothing but the ocean and wind and the endless, welcoming sky.
Soon, I veer off the beach and take the road into town. By daylight, Beachwood Bay is welcoming and quaint, if a little faded around the edges. The development that’s rippled down the coast hasn’t made inroads here yet; I see a few, newer beach houses along the shore, but further inland, the houses are still old and sturdy, sitting behind overgrown, lush yards on wide, empty streets that lead me on, running steadily towards Main Street and the motley collection of storefronts that have barely changed in twenty years. My sneakers slap against the asphalt as I see the early morning patrons sitting with their coffee and pancakes through the windows of Mrs. Olson’s; the hardware store, and the local postal office; the harbor on the seafront with the boats bobbing in the breeze.
I run past Jimmy’s, the bar Emerson used to own before he moved with Juliet to the city. It’s locked up tight, deserted and grimy in the morning light. Not for the first time, I think of my sister and her new life with a twisting mix of envy and disbelief. This time last year, her destiny seemed set; she was about to graduate and get a job in a top-flight accountancy firm. Boring, sure, but respectable. She had the perfect boyfriend too, a guy from a great family, with a trust fund ready to support them both. Alexander was richer and more handsome, I reassured myself, the few times we all hung out. Juliet would never challenge my status or achievement, but as plans for a future went, my little sister’s was running a good second place.
“What? Sure, I’m fine.” I shake my head, trying to dislodge the shame and guilt of forgetting. “I just…I’m in the middle of payroll.”
“Fine,” Brit replies cheerfully. “Never mind me. You go work, I’ll just be here, watching my hopes and dreams go up in smoke.”
“Sure, thanks,” I mumble, backing away. I return to the office and close the door behind me, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the desk drawer. I slump in the chair and take a gulp, wincing at the fierce burn of alcohol.
But it’s not enough.
When I close my eyes, I can see them, playing in the sprinklers on the lawn. My wife, my baby girl. The two most precious things in the world. In my dreams, they’re happy and laughing, calling out for me to come join them.
In my dreams, they’re still right here with me.
Everything I had. Everything I lost.
A life I tried to hold onto that’s never coming back.
I sit there in the dim light, and let the memories swirl around me like summer sunshine. Nobody knows the truth I’ve been hiding, and I swore they never will. Carina called me a man-whore, acting like all I wanted was some fun before moving on to the next girl, but she doesn’t know the truth. One night is all I can allow myself, a brief connection in the darkness, a moment of peace. Escape from the knowledge that I’ll always be alone.
I wanted more, once, but more is a lie.
Dating, relationships, it’s all a waste of time. There’s no point play-acting like there’s a chance of a tomorrow when I know I don’t have anything in me left to offer.
I tried it once, I gave everything I have, and look what it got me: drinking whiskey alone in the afternoon, knowing that no bottle is big enough to drown the sorrow and emptiness of a love that’s left behind.
Two years to the day, and it still hurts like hell. The first two years of the rest of my life. I take another swig of whiskey, and wonder if the pain will ever go away.
I pray to God it will, one day. And these days, prayers are all I’ve got.
5
I’m crazy for coming here. Certifiable. This place has no Starbucks within a fifty-mile radius, barely enough hot water to take a bath, and as for Garrett…
That man is a dangerous.
Dangerously sexy, you mean.
It’s clear that I can’t stay. As soon as Garrett leaves, I grab my suitcase and hit the road again, but I only I make it as far as the highway intersection before I pull over on the side of the road and sit, engine running, my mind a whirlwind of doubts.
I can’t go back, not just yet. I can’t face Alexander and that shell of a house. And right now, I have nowhere else to go.
So I stay.
One more day, then two, then three. I keep out of Garrett’s way, out running in the morning before he leaves for work, and back in my room at night, watching reruns on the old TV and trying to drown out the chorus of insecurities in my mind. I’m treading water, I know. Killing time. I keep hoping that if I wait long enough, the answers will just come to me: that I’ll magically know what I’m supposed to do, now that my life is in pieces and I don’t have any other plans.
But the answers don’t come, so I stay.
The third morning, I wake at dawn as usual and quickly dress in my workout gear. I creep downstairs and out the back door, crossing the yard to where the grass meets the dunes. The ocean crashes against the shore, and although there’s still a morning chill biting in the breeze, the sky is blue and clear, the sun rising bright in the sky.
It’s beautiful here, so far from the world.
I stretch, breathing the crisp air into my lungs, and then take off down the beach at a steady pace. I run five miles every day, it’s the only way I’ve found to keep from losing my mind, the one time I can turn my brain off from the endless list of social engagements and new projects — the true unhappiness of life. Now, my feet pound on the wet sand and I feel the tension in my limbs ease with every step, pushing my body through the doubt and insecurities, to the place where my mind is clear and I can leave it all behind—Alexander’s anger, Garrett’s dark eyes, that big empty house that I thought represented everything I wanted—until there’s nothing but the ocean and wind and the endless, welcoming sky.
Soon, I veer off the beach and take the road into town. By daylight, Beachwood Bay is welcoming and quaint, if a little faded around the edges. The development that’s rippled down the coast hasn’t made inroads here yet; I see a few, newer beach houses along the shore, but further inland, the houses are still old and sturdy, sitting behind overgrown, lush yards on wide, empty streets that lead me on, running steadily towards Main Street and the motley collection of storefronts that have barely changed in twenty years. My sneakers slap against the asphalt as I see the early morning patrons sitting with their coffee and pancakes through the windows of Mrs. Olson’s; the hardware store, and the local postal office; the harbor on the seafront with the boats bobbing in the breeze.
I run past Jimmy’s, the bar Emerson used to own before he moved with Juliet to the city. It’s locked up tight, deserted and grimy in the morning light. Not for the first time, I think of my sister and her new life with a twisting mix of envy and disbelief. This time last year, her destiny seemed set; she was about to graduate and get a job in a top-flight accountancy firm. Boring, sure, but respectable. She had the perfect boyfriend too, a guy from a great family, with a trust fund ready to support them both. Alexander was richer and more handsome, I reassured myself, the few times we all hung out. Juliet would never challenge my status or achievement, but as plans for a future went, my little sister’s was running a good second place.
