High Tide

by Alyson Santos

  Her expression solidifies into granite. “Marik?”

  I swallow and look away at the mention of my uncle.

  After a short pause that lasts forever, she rests a calloused hand on my shoulder. “Go see if the boys need a refill, will you?”

  I nod and move through the kitchen toward the front of the house.

  Cenek is no longer smiling when he exchanges a look with his mother.

  Chapter Seven: Cuddles and Confrontations

  After breakfast I drive Christian to his place and swap him for Harper who isn’t nearly ready to say goodbye to the boys. But they have to work and Harper needs to come up for air. Christian and I exchange plenty of amused smiles as we wait for them to finish the epic goodbye necessary to part for a few hours.

  “He’s sooo hot though,” she whines on our way back to our place. “And fun and nice and… ugh.”

  “So does this mean Bistro Boy is out?”

  “Who?”

  Wow, she’s serious. “Tanner? The guy you couldn’t live without three days ago?”

  “Pfft. Whatever,” she says, waving her hand. “That was nothing.”

  “No? Huh.”

  I keep my eyes fixed on the road through her glare. It’s too easy. I wish it wasn’t so fun to rile her up.

  “Tanner didn’t even like music. Who doesn’t like music?”

  Funny, she didn’t seem so offended by that the other night at two in the morning when they were assaulting my wall.

  “But enough about me. What about you?” Her tone gets all sultry and conspiratorial on that last part. “Your first night together. How’d it go?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  I smile at her offended huffing.

  “Just fine? That’s all I get? You don’t want to tell me or were his bed skills that bad?”

  “Neither. We had a great time and I wouldn’t know about his bed skills.”

  “Wait, what? Oh my gosh. Pull over.”

  I laugh and continue driving down our street. She can sulk for the few seconds it takes to reach our parking space.

  “You’re telling me you spent the entire night together and did what? Talk?”

  I think for a moment. “Yep. Pretty much. We cuddled too.”

  Harper groans and covers her face. “Why are you a ninety-year-old woman?”

  I shrug. “It was actually pretty amazing.”

  Her expression changes as she studies me. “Wait, you really, really like this guy.”

  “Yeah. I think I do. I think he might be worth the risk.”

  She crosses her arms and leans against the passenger door. “Well damn, woman. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

  Christian is at our stand again today. Harper seems disappointed it’s not Jakub, but she’s happy for me. Too happy, actually, because her constant badgering is starting to get annoying.

  “I don’t get how you can sit here and read a book,” she says, clearly miffed.

  “Because I’m relaxing at the beach?”

  “Yeah, while your new super-hot boyfriend is right over there being stalked by a crapload of bikinis.”

  I glance over and yep. She’s right; I shrug. “He’s not my boyfriend.” Plus, we’ve exchanged plenty of shy smiles since I arrived—some not so shy. I feel him looking over frequently and I’m sure to meet him halfway every time. He knows. My body definitely does the way vicious sparks keep disrupting my focus. The book is just a prop because my brain is over at a lifeguard chair exploring warm skin and sunscreen and hard muscle that tenses when I touch it. Stop it, Emma. But damn is he cute.

  “You’re staring,” Harper interrupts.

  “Huh?”

  She swats the air in Christian’s direction. “Just go over and talk to him. You’re creeping me out.”

  “I don’t want to get him trouble again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That ridiculous supervisor, remember?”

  “Oh right. Well, the other girls around him don’t seem worried about it.”

  They really don’t. Maybe I can just say a quick hello. I replace the bookmark that hasn’t moved a page and push up from the chair. His smile makes me forget all about overbearing supervisors when I approach.

  “How’s the beach today? Any emergencies?” I ask.

  He grins and leans toward me. “No. Just jellyfish. Watch the riptide.” He points to the yellow flag behind him, and I nod. It’s so hard to make small talk with someone who’s glimpsed your soul.

  “I had fun last night,” I say.

  “Me too.”

  “I hope we can—”

  The whir of an engine sinks the rest of our conversation, and Christian tenses at the same moment I back away. You have to be kidding me.

  Mr. Self-Important Supervisor unloads himself from the vehicle with that signature arrogance that makes me want to punch him. What’s his deal anyway? Clearly he has self-esteem issues with his need to bully dependent immigrants who can’t fight back. He gives me a brief scan before waving Christian down from the chair. The younger man visibly stiffens and joins his boss on the sand.

  “Christian, Christian, Christian,” Lord Supervisor says. “I thought we talked about this.”

  Don’t interfere, Emma. Christian doesn’t want you involved. Don’t. Don’t!

  “I know but—”

  “Do you not want this job? Is that it?”

  Christian flinches. “Of course. I—”

  “Because if you don’t want this job, I can replace you by this afternoon. You can go back to Russia or Africa or wherever it is you’re from.”

  Oh my god. My fist shakes at my side. No wait, that’s my entire body shaking. Christian must sense my fury because his quick look in my direction is the only thing that keeps me from exploding. Don’t, Emma. Focus. Clarity. Drive.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, looking the man in the eye, which can’t be easy since Christian has a good six inches on him.

  “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Don’t, Emma! “If you’re so sorry why is it that I have to keep coming over here to tell you to do your damn job and—”

  “It was twice!” I snap at Kenneth. Christian’s gaze shoots over to me, but I ignore his silent plea this time—and definitely Kenneth’s hard glare. In fact, their reactions only anger me more. “It was twice that you caught me talking to him. And both times all we exchanged were a few short greetings. Other than that, he sits there all day in the sun answering stupid questions about chair rentals and spraying jellyfish stings. I’ve never seen him do anything other than his job. Have you?” I ask, pointing to Harper.

  She shakes her head. “He’s a good lifeguard,” she calls over.

  “You?” I ask the older couple beside us.

  They shake their heads.

  “You?” Okay, that lady pretends she doesn’t see me. “Anyway,” I say, turning back to the Supervisor from Hell. “My point is you’re clearly on a power trip that has nothing to do with Christian or any of the other lifeguards on this beach. It’s not right and it’s ruining our vacation experience so maybe it’s your supervisor who needs to be involved.”

  I draw in a deep breath, wait through the stunned silence, and then… clapping? Oh my gosh, yep. Straight out of a movie, the small patch of sand surrounding us erupts into legit applause. Triumphant, I turn back to Christian, but what greets me is most definitely not gratitude. Kenneth’s expression is so dark I shudder.

  There’s a different lifeguard in the chair after lunch.

  “How long is your uncle staying with you?” Kozy asks. He asks that so he doesn’t have to ask the real question: How long do we have to find excuses to keep you away from home?

  We’re camping out for the weekend. I didn’t ask permission. In fact, I haven’t told my grandmother anything about where I’ve been going after my shifts at Alžbeta’s. I wonder if she’s even noticed or cared that I haven’t been home in three days. One night at Kozy’s, one at Ciky’s, and now freedom in
a tent until Kozy has to return home on Sunday night. I haven’t figured out what I’ll do then.

  He hasn’t said anything about the bruise on my face. Neither has his mother. Or Ciky’s. No one ever says anything, and I hate the pitying looks that come with the silence. Pick one or the other. Both is so much worse.

  “I can’t wait until university,” I say, also so I don’t have to say what I really mean: I can’t wait to escape.

  “Only two more months. I can’t believe you’re studying physics though.”

  “I like physics.”

  “Yeah, but what about the girls?”

  “What about them?”

  “You’ll be too busy studying to have fun. Do you have any idea how many beautiful girls will be there waiting for us?”

  I force a laugh and pretend to agree, but I’m not going to university to have fun. I’m going to get away from here. I’m going to find a new life and see how big the world really is because mine is so crushingly small I can’t breathe anymore. To him I say, “I don’t want a girlfriend right now.” I just want to be free and nothing traps you like relationships.

  “I really don’t get you. Girls are everything.”

  He can say stuff like that because he has everything.

  “Have you tried messaging him?” Harper asks.

  I bite my nail, squinting along the coastline as if I’ll magically see Christian somewhere in the crowds.

  “Of course. He didn’t answer. What if…” I trail off, gnawing on my nail again.

  “What if that supervisor murdered him and buried the body under a pier somewhere?” Harper finishes with a snicker.

  “Shut up.” But… would he?

  “Seriously, Em. You’re freaking out for nothing. I’m sure he just got moved to a different chair. No big deal.”

  “But if he got fired, then what? He’d have no job and… oh my gosh. His visa! What if his visa is tied to the job and now he—”

  “Emma!” Harper grabs my shoulders and forces me to face her. “You’re overreacting. I’m sure he’s fine. Look, I’ll message Jakub and see if he knows what happened, okay?”

  I pull in a long breath and try to calm the panic. It’s my fault. Whatever happened to him is my fault which makes the consequences unbearable. I bury my face in my hands and groan. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? It was none of my business. Christian clearly didn’t want me to get involved. I can’t claim ignorance on that point, but he’s wrong about the rest. It was my business. It was because when you care about someone you fight for them. You don’t show pity and keep your mouth shut. I’m sorry but Kenneth is a jerk and the universe needed to acknowledge that. You know what? I’m not sorry.

  I glance down at my blank phone screen.

  “Jakub said he hasn’t heard from him either. He’ll let us know if he does.”

  My phone finally rings later that evening but it’s not Christian.

  “Gram! Hi, how are you? How was your trip?”

  “It was lovely, dear. I still wish you’d come with us.”

  “I know. I have class though.”

  “Classes in summer. Psh.”

  I laugh. “Now you sound like Harper.”

  “Well that girl may have some growing up to do but she’s right about a lot of things. Mostly when it comes to you.”

  “So tell me all about the trip! Did you drink lots of umbrella drinks on the pool deck and meet a handsome young whippersnapper?”

  “Silly,” she says with a chuckle. “I will tell you everything but…” Her silence lodges a pit in my stomach. “That’s not why I’ve called, Emma.”

  I close my eyes. No. Just…

  “There was a message waiting for me when I got back.”

  I can’t breathe.

  “From your father.”

  My room tunnels to black. Somewhere everything’s the same as it was thirty seconds ago but not here. No, here it’s all wrong. The bed is too far away, my desk and wall of lists even farther. It’s an infinite distance so I sink to the only place I can reach: the floor. “What did he want?”

  “I think you know, honey.”

  My head shakes on its own, forgetting she can’t see it. There’s not much it remembers actually except the blood and the screams and the flashing lights and…

  I crawl toward my desk.

  “Emma?”

  “I can’t.” It’s just a whisper but it’s as final as a shriek.

  “I know, honey, but I think it’s time.”

  I lose the rest of the night.

  Murderer

  Murderer

  Murderer

  I drop the pen and shake out my cramped fingers. Ripping the page from the notebook, I slam it on the pile beside me.

  Monster

  Demon

  MURDERER

  Rip it out.

  Slam.

  Harper knocks several times but I don’t let her in. When she reminds me of our date with the boys I tell her to go without me. When she threatens to cancel, I tell her to do it. She must, because at eight o’clock I hear the TV blasting from the living room. Wait, is that a male voice? Did she move the party here? I can’t believe it. After making sure my door is locked, I send Harper an angry text.

  How could you invite the guys over here? You know it’s not a good night for me!

  Harper: Relax. It’s just Jakub. Christian didn’t come.

  I stiffen, my anger giving way to something heavier. Christian didn’t come. Because she told him not to?

  Me: Is he okay?

  Harper: I don’t know. Jakub won’t talk about it. Guys are annoying.

  My pile is thick, the unfilled pages dented and bruised from the heavy punishment of my pen. I move to the window and look out. Dusk shows signs of life but no stars yet. No, the sky is as empty as my notebook. What’s Christian doing with his pain?

  I pick up my phone.

  I’m sorry Christian. I need to talk to you. Please call me.

  He doesn’t.

  I’m not a liar but I lie all the time. Today I’m lying to Kozy. Telling him I’ll go back home and face my grandmother and uncle. It will be fine, I lie. I’ll go to Ciky’s if there’s a problem. I tell Ciky the same thing.

  I’m tired of being a burden. Tired of silence and pity. Tired of lying and not lying.

  I sneak into the shed behind Alžbeta’s. It’s freezing for a summer night, but at least the roof will keep the rain off me. I wrap myself in the dirty blanket I’d hidden months ago, just in case. My stomach rumbles but I have to save the little food that remains for tomorrow. I can’t face Alžbeta hungry. She’ll know and she’s the only one who speaks.

  Chapter Eight: Five Feet and a Million Inches

  “You didn’t get this from Jakub,” Harper says, shoving an address in my hand. She grabs her beach bag from the back of the jeep and hands me the keys. “Go find him.” With a quick wave, she starts toward the sand and leaves me alone in the parking lot. I stare down at the address, confused and nervous. Jakub didn’t give her any more information, just that if I really want to talk to Christian, that’s where he is.

  It’s been two days since the fight with his supervisor. Two days since my Gram uprooted my world. My hand can barely hold a pen anymore. My wall is completely draped in anger. The last thing I should be doing right now is pursuing an enigmatic lifeguard who clearly wants nothing to do with me, but there you have it. Crazy breeds crazy and heaven knows I’m anything but stable right now. So maybe it’s the perfect time to do something like this. Maybe it’s the only time.

  I climb into the driver’s seat and start the engine before I lose my nerve.

  When I reach the address on the slip of paper I’m even more confused. There’s nothing here but a small building sandwiched between two resort high-rises. It looks more like a utility shed than anything. Wait, is it a utility shed?

  I pull into a public lot and start toward the building, still skeptical of Jakub’s information. Could he have meant one of the resort
s beside it? Does the county have a contract to provide lifeguard services for the hotels as well? I’m about to go find out when I hear banging coming from the shed. Someone’s inside and my chest tightens.

  The door is propped open by a five-gallon water cooler. The banging has given way to a scratching sound, and I pull in a sharp breath when I see him.

  “Christian?”

  He jumps, his head darting around toward the entrance. We stare at each other, his expression turning from shock to embarrassment to anger. He pushes himself up from the floor, the rag he was using clenched with white knuckles. Sweat streaks over his bare torso, and I see the exhaustion in his face.

  “What are you doing here?” Is he upset or scared? Maybe both.

  I have the same question for him as I scan the inside of the shed. A stack of water jugs, flotation devices, and other supplies line the perimeter of the shack. The bucket of filthy water at his feet makes my stomach churn.

  “He has you cleaning the storage shed? Is this where you’ve been the last couple of days?” It must be over a hundred degrees inside, and he glares at me as he swipes an arm across his forehead. He drops the rag in the bucket and removes a lid from one of the bins.

  “You should not be here.”

  “How else was I supposed to see you? You won’t answer my calls or return my messages.”

  I know he hears me. I see it in the way his biceps tense and his fingers tighten around the uniform hoodies he’s pretending to sort.

  “Look, I’m sorry about what happened with your supervisor. I should say, I’m sorry this happened. But I’m not sorry I spoke up. That guy is a jerk and he shouldn’t be able to treat you like he did.”

  He snaps a glare over at me before returning to his fake task.

  “Christian, please! I said I’m sorry.”

  “I hear you.” His voice is cold and distant. So different from the soothing tone I’m used to. “I need to work.”