by Tori Fox
“Finding a distraction to keep my head clear.” I know that is as vague of an answer as any.
“A distraction for what?” she asks.
I sigh. This is the reason I usually keep to myself I don’t like talking about myself or my life or everything that went wrong with it. But I look at her and I can see understanding in her eyes before I even give her a real answer. It’s almost like she can read me, understand things without knowing, connect with me on a level I’ve never been able to with any other person. I take a deep breath before I answer her. “Life.”
Her gaze flicks away from mine and out the window. I can tell she is thinking. I can practically see her brain turning over thoughts. And I want to know what she’s thinking. I want to know whatever pain is deep inside her that she shelters from the world. I want to know how she does it so that I can do it too.
She speaks quietly, barely loud enough for me to hear. “I think we all need a distraction from life. I know I do.” She pauses. “Where do you go when it gets too hard? When you can’t take it anymore. When you feel like it’s all just going to fall apart?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to have something else other than this remodel. A place that makes it all go away. All the pain and sadness and regret.”
I don’t know how she can tell that regret and sadness eat away at me. I shrug. “Do you mean like your music room?”
She shakes her head. “To me, music is my job. I mean a place that no one knows about. A place you can truly get away.”
“I guess not. I’ve just used this house as my getaway. What about you?”
She looks back out the window. “I guess it’s yoga now, but I used to have a place that no one knew about. This tiny little cabin on an island outside Hilton Head. It was this awful lime green color with these hot pink shutters. It was right on the ocean. I loved waking up to the sound of the waves in the morning, the kiss of salt in the air. I wrote my best music there.”
“Why don’t you go back?”
“It was ruined for me.”
When she glances back at me I see the sadness in her eyes that appeared briefly a few minutes ago. Her hand is inches from mine as we both pet Brutus. I reach out and grab it, squeezing it lightly. I don’t really have any words to say and I don’t think she needs to hear any.
Right now all we need is this connection. An unspoken realization between the two of us that we are both seeking a solution to the pain that bogs us down, buries us deep underground, gasping for breath at times to find a way out.
Brutus jumps off the couch, breaking our connection. Anna stands up, pushing loose hairs that fell out of her bun behind her ear.
“I should go,” she whispers.
I get off the couch and stand in front of her. I take the glass out of her hands and set in on the coffee table. I close the distance between us, my mind not connecting with what my body is doing. I bring my palm to her cheek and close the gap between us even more so there are only inches between us. I run my thumb over her lip and can feel her shock from the touch. I am close enough to tell her heart rate is picking up. Her cheeks warm at my touch and I know neither of us is sure what is going to happen. My mind races as fast as my heart with the way she is looking at me. Like she needs me, needs this. And I need it too. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t.
She closes the space between us. Her eyes search mine. I know she is trying to find an answer to whatever the hell this is. But I don’t think I even have one.
My other hand grabs the other side of her face as her hands hesitantly move to my chest. We are both breathing heavier, waiting for the other to close the distance.
I can feel her breath on my lips as I lean forward. Smell the sweetness of the wine on her breath. She licks her lips and I find myself mesmerized by her tongue sweeping across them.
Just as I am about to close the distance, Brutus starts barking loudly at something outside, killing the moment between the two of us.
She steps away from me, looking anywhere but at me. “I need to go.”
“Anna.”
She shakes her head at me as she turns and heads to the door. “This is a bad—we can’t. I can’t.” Her right hand reaches for the necklace around her neck, her knuckles turning white as she grips it hard. “I’ll s—see you later.”
She’s out the front door before I can stop her. I follow her out the door and stand on my unfinished porch as I watch her unlock her front door and go inside.
I head back into my own home and Brutus comes waddling up to me.
“Mood killer,” I tell him, but he just sits in front of me lifting his paw.
I scratch behind his ear before heading up the stairs. “Come on, boy. Another night of you and me.”
11
Anna
I can’t believe I almost kissed Noah last night. I’m not sure either of us were thinking. I don’t even know how it almost happened. We were just talking. Plain old talking like you do with everyone else. Nothing special.
Who am I kidding?
There was something there. Some weird connection we both felt. Maybe that is why I have always had an attraction to him. Maybe my body knew before my mind did that we held a connection. I still have no freaking clue what it is. But I know it’s there. I think we both do. He said he wanted a distraction. That was the reason he is remodeling his house. Well maybe that’s what I need to. A distraction for me to forget about the mess of my own life. To push Kyle as deep down into the recesses of my mind that he can go.
My phone starts ringing. I guess this is the distraction I’ll take for now.
“Hello?”
“Were you ever going to call me back?”
Shit. I forgot I told my friend Becca that I would call her back at some point last week. She was my best friend growing up. Her, me, and Kyle were inseparable as kids. We drifted apart a bit when Kyle and I went to college and she stayed at home helping her parents with their socializing. But after we graduated from college and moved back home to Hartswell, we all became friends again.
She is one of the only people I talk to from home. After Kyle died, I couldn’t take the sympathy from everyone. My entire town treated me like I was a fragile piece of glass on the verge of shattering. But I wasn’t. I was angry. So angry. And Becca was the only one that understood. My sister and my parents wanted to console me, baby me. Becca was the only one who told me to quit crying and move on with my life. And I did. I moved on and haven’t looked back since.
“Eventually,” I joke.
“I get it. You forgot about your bestie.”
I laugh. “I did not forget about you. I’ve just been busy.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. It ain’t that hard to pick up a phone.”
“Says the girl who does nothing but plan parties.”
She huffs into the phone. “I’ll have you know I do more than just plan parties. Why last week I was helping the county hospital collect donations for Thanksgiving.”
“Well, I am glad you were able to do your part to help the community.”
“Just like any southern woman would.”
I pick up a few things around my house as I talk to her, checking the time to make sure I am not late for my yoga class. “And how is your dear husband? I heard he is making a name for himself out there.”
Becca is the daughter of the town mayor. Not a huge deal but in southern towns it is. Her family comes from money dating back two hundred years. She never has to lift a finger to ensure she will never have to worry about money. She married a businessman out of Atlanta. He was in town looking at buying property for something. Her father was there to show him around and of course she and her mother provided a luncheon for the whole thing. According to Becca, it was love at first sight. I’ve never met him. Didn’t attend the wedding. It all happened so soon after Kyle’s death, I couldn’t show my face.
“He is splendid, as always. He should be home this weekend. The kids miss him.”
<
br /> She couldn’t leave Hartswell, no matter where her husband wanted to move them. So he bought a grand property in Hartswell and they migrate back and forth between there and Atlanta.
“Any news from the hometown?”
She laughs. “Do you really want to hear the gossip?”
“Keeps me young.”
“Rumor has it your sister’s boyfriend is going to propose.”
I stop what I am doing. “Really? Well, it won’t happen soon if there are rumors. She is going to want to be surprised. And he knows that.”
“Only time will tell.” She pauses and I can tell this call isn’t just about catching up. “Have you talked to your sister lately?”
I collapse onto my couch at that. I have been a terrible sister. A terrible daughter. I only call on holidays and birthdays. My family learned years ago that I wasn’t going to call back. So they quit trying to reach out to me, quit trying to be a part of my life. I know enough to feel like they are still my family but not enough to know the details.
“I called her on her birthday.”
“That was four months ago, Anna May.”
I look out the window and watch a few leaves fall from the trees. “And everything was great with her.”
“She wants you to come home for Thanksgiving.”
I groan as I let my head fall back onto the back of the couch. “She should know better than that.”
“Fine, I might not have heard it from her lips directly but I heard her boyfriend talking to his friends at the club the other day and he mentioned it.”
I hate the country club. There is no sense of privacy there. Rumor after rumor is all that happens. Think the real housewives but on a small-town level. I still can’t believe my sister is dating the son of the president of the country club. She was a tomboy, hated everything about that part of the town, but once she met Connor, she had hearts pouring from her eyes. He is a nice guy from what Becca has told me.
“Well, you can indirectly tell her it won’t be happening.”
Becca sighs into the phone. “Anna May, you know I love you and I have never pressured you to come back here. But this is important. I bet Connor doesn’t want to propose until he knows you’ll be here. And your parents miss you.”
I pinch my fingers between my brow. “Becca, I can’t.”
She doesn’t say anything and I don’t expect her to. Not once has she asked me to come home. She understands how much it hurts to be there, to see everything that reminds me of Kyle. She knows I would relive every memory we ever had everywhere I go. It was the reason I left. The pain of Hartswell was too much when the whole town was involved in the story of Anna May and Kyle.
“I need to get to work,” I tell her as I battle back the memories fighting their way to the surface.
“Okay. I miss you. I’ll talk with you soon.”
I hang up and grab a throw pillow and scream into it. My mind suffocating me. I attempt to meditate, Seraphina’s way of eliminating negative energy but my mind won’t free itself of the prison I put it in.
I look at the clock and see I have fifteen minutes to get to the yoga studio. I rush out the door and make it just in time.
After I teach my two classes, which went horribly, I step into the office to grab my things.
“You doing okay?”
“Hmm?” I ask as I knock over a glass of water at the coffee bar.
Seraphina stands up from her desk and looks at me. “That was the worst I have ever seen you teach. At first I thought you were sick, but then I noticed you were in your head.”
“What are you talking about?”
She clears her throat as she sits on the edge of her desk. “Well when you are sick you teach the class fine but you tend to do less of the actual movements.”
“So?” I have no idea where she is going with this.
“Today you barely talked and when you did it was monotonous, robotic.”
I lean down at pick up the glass and wipe up the spilled water. “I’m just having a shit day.”
I look up and she is staring at me with her arms crossed. I know that look. That’s the look of talk or I will fire you.
“I talked to Becca this morning. Stirred up memories.”
“Why do you still talk to her?”
I scrunch my brows at that. “Because she was my best friend my whole life.”
“Until college when I became your best friend. Then she got weird.”
“She was jealous I had a new best friend.”
“Hmm,” she replies with attitude.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t think it’s weird that Becca never asks you to go home?”
I shake my head. “She respects my decision to stay the hell out of Hartswell.”
Seraphina tilts her head to the side. “Yet your family doesn’t?”
“They just want to see me. And they can visit me.”
“You know I always thought it was odd how Becca acted when she came to visit you in college.”
I sigh and head to the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She was jealous of you, you know.”
I snap my head around at that. “Becca was never jealous of me. She had everything she ever wanted. If she didn’t she got it at the drop of a hat. She had money, friends, beauty. I don’t think there has ever been a day in her life she hasn’t gotten what she’s wanted.”
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think.”
I can’t take any more of this shit, so I storm out of the studio before Seraphina can say another word to me.
Four days later and I am still fighting flashbacks from my past. Yoga hasn’t helped. Meditating hasn’t helped. Working hasn’t done shit either. I even picked up extra shifts at Jimmy’s so I could stay busy, yet all I can think about is my conversation with Becca and what Seraphina told me after. There is no way Becca was jealous of me. How could she have been? I had braces and acne. I was fat. I put on more weight than the typical freshman fifteen. I had to work two jobs in college to pay my way through. She got to sit at home and get pampered.
But Seraphina has always had a weird sixth sense about reading people. Maybe I was missing something.
I yawn as I pull into my driveway after yoga and see my landlord standing outside my door next to a woman with perfectly coifed blond hair and a power suit. I haven’t heard from my landlord in a month, not since the water incident. And the last I talked to him, he was in Florida.
I get out of my car and grab my yoga bag out of the back. My landlord tries to tell me something, but I can’t hear him over the noise of Noah’s table saw in his garage. I glance over and can just see a sliver of him as he leans over cutting two by twos. His thick biceps lay each cut on a table and my mind goes to the way his hard chest felt under my hands. His warm breath caressing my lips before he almost kissed me.
God, why am I thinking about Noah now too?
I turn away before I redirect my path to his garage and pull him away from his work and kiss him like I tell myself I am not dying to do.
“Anna.” I hear my landlord as I get closer to the front door and further from Noah.
I wave to him and the woman. “Hello, Mr. Casallero.”
“Please call me George.”
I flatten my lips and nod.
“Anyway, I was stopping by with Ms. Wilmot here to show her the property.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
Mr. Casallero clears his throat. “Remember I told you I was thinking of selling.”
“Uh, yes you mentioned it briefly when you failed to send someone out to fix the water problem.”
His cheeks redden and anger passes over his features. “Well everything is in working order now, I heard.”
“Excuse me, Ms….?”
“Cooper,” I say in answer to the woman.
She sticks her hand out, and I reluctantly shake it. “I was hired by George here to list his property fo
r sale.” I go to speak but she doesn’t let me interrupt. “Now before you worry yourself over losing your home, I want to let you know I am looking to list it as a rentable property with current tenants in place. You won’t have to move. At least not right away, depending on the buyer.”
George cuts her off. “Ms. Wilmot, I talked with you about listing it as a single-family home.”
She turns to George and straightens her jacket, giving off a sense of power. “We did talk about that, George. But as you recall, I said you would need to remodel the home to list it that way.”
“Well, then they can’t stay,” he answers, brandishing his hand toward me and the building.
“I have a lease,” I say to them both.
“Well, I’ll break it,” George spits back.
Ms. Wilmot steps between the two of us. “Please calm down, Mr. Casallero. I know you have the power as the landlord to break a lease but it does require stipulations. Now remodeling this home will take a lot of time and money and quite frankly I don’t think you want to wait. I know you are anxious to complete your move to Florida. And I am not sure we could get a huge profit from selling as a single-family home. I think you can make more selling as a rentable unit. But I need to see the units before I can give you any kind of potential listing value.”
I have no idea why my landlord wants to move away so quickly. But I know I don’t want to look for a new home. I like living here. I feel at home for the first time in a long time. And I also don’t mind the view next door either.
I curse myself for thinking of Noah again. But images of his naked body flood my mind.
“Let me show you the place,” I tell Ms. Wilmot, shaking thoughts from my head.
I let all of us in, and she walks around the unit, taking notes in her phone.
“Now what were you saying about a water problem?” she asks me.
“The pipes—”
“Nothing at all,” George cuts in. “Loose faucet. Easy fix.”
I take a deep breath and cross my arms over my chest as I lean against my kitchen counter. “It wasn’t that.”
