Off the Trails

by Emily Franklin

  William nods, slipping his warm hand over hers. “I really missed you.”

  They sit on the wooden bench near the beach parking and watch the cars roll by. Dove thinks about what to say.

  “Is this weird?” she asks, her chest rising and falling quickly with each nervous breath.

  William doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is calm. “A little, don’t you think?” He squeezes her hand and turns to face her. “You know what it is? We’ve just been apart and have to get used to each other. Like muscles.”

  Dove wrinkles her brow. “What?”

  William tries to explain. “Like when you haven’t been surfing for a while and then you get back out there, it kind of strains your muscles …”

  Dove looks disappointed with his metaphor. “Not in a bad way, I hope.”

  “No, not bad … just …” William puts his arms around her and hugs her tightly to his chest. “I did miss you, you know.”

  Dove relishes the feel of his skin on hers, the heat radiating from his face. She pulls back to look at him, their mouths nearly touching. William puts his hands on her cheeks and brings her lips to his. They kiss for what feels to Dove like only seconds, then William pulls away.

  “We should go,” he says.

  Dove catches her breath, still swept up in the haze of the kissing. “Now?” Just when things are starting to feel normal …

  “Didn’t you say you have to report to work?” William stands up.

  Dove’s shoulders drop. “Right. Work.” Times like this, I wish I didn’t have to work. That I had my nice cushy source of income and didn’t have to think about tips and salary and real issues, only this. She touches William’s face, thinking he’ll kiss her fingers the way he’d done back at Les Trois, back when they were together every day. But he doesn’t. Doesn’t he remember? Dove wonders. Are there things I’ve forgotten? “I’m already kind of disillusioned with my job, to be honest.”

  “Oh, yeah?” William waits for her to stand up from the bench.

  “It’s just … don’t you ever wish you could do what you want? Not have to deal with the inanities of the daily grind?”

  William studies her as if she’s said something offensive. “Maybe some of us like work.” He sighs.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dove feels the tension rising between them. Don’t let us fight. It’s just an adjustment. Everything’s fine. Really.

  “Nothing.” William’s blond-tipped hair shines in the sun; his broad shoulders tip backward as he goes on. “It’s just … maybe you aren’t cut out for this kind of life.”

  Dove’s eyes are heavy with the seriousness of his voice. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this kind of work,” she says. “I can handle the kitchen or galley just as well as, if not better than, many.”

  William nods. “No, no, I’m not saying you can’t. I’m only saying … when I’m on the boat, even doing the grunt work, I like it. Maybe when you find what you like, and it’s the right fit, it doesn’t feel like work.” Dove nods, letting his words sink in. “I’ll drop you off on my way.”

  “On your way to where?” Dove asks. “Back to the boat?”

  “Nah, into town. One of the guests has requested a certain lotion.”

  Dove laughs, shaking her head as she and William get into his car. “You really have to get all that for them?”

  William nods. “Swab the deck, fix the lines, plot, navigate, charm, and yes, get the lotion.”

  Dove watches his face as he speaks, feeling the tension melt away between them as they settle into the air-conditioning of the car. Maybe he’s right. Maybe if you’re doing what you want to, you don’t mind it so much. Dove tries to think about when she’s felt that way, but doesn’t have the focus. “So what’s so special about this lotion?”

  William puts his hand on her thigh and feels her leg. “It’s apparently very moisturizing—or whatever you like to call it. Maybe it smells good. It’s overpriced and available only at this one store.”

  Dove watches the ocean slide by as they head into town. As they pause by the cafés and shops, she watches the ease with which the people on vacation move. They have nowhere they have to be, Dove thinks, envying them. Back at Les Trois, I didn’t feel like this. So why now? She looks at William. “You can drop me here,” she says. “It’s easier than having to deal with the car gates and locks by the docks.”

  “Okay,” William says. He puts both hands on her shoulders and looks at her long and hard. “It’ll be all right.”

  Dove looks at his eyes, his mouth, the familiar contours of his nose, and the dip above his upper lip. Inside, she feels a trembling building. “Really? Because this all feels …” She could cry, but doesn’t let herself. It feels odd. Not like I thought. Why isn’t it as simple in reality as it is in my mind?

  “We just have to …” William looks out the window. Dove follows his gaze. “That’s where I’m headed.”

  “To Pulse?” Dove asks, looking at the sign.

  “Yeah—that’s where they sell the lotion.”

  Dove turns his face to hers and gives him a soft kiss on the lips. “So, wait—what were you saying? About what we need to do?”

  William looks out the window, distracted. “Um, right. I guess … it feels kind of bizarre right now. With us …” He fidgets with his key ring. “But it’ll blow over, right?”

  Dove makes the decision that the whole reunion feels too heavy, too loaded, too pressured. “We need levity. Fun. You know, to get us back in the swing of things. Remember the summer festival on the mountain?”

  “The water slide?” William grins.

  “The paddleboat race?” A sweet look overtakes Dove’s face as she recalls the day. When was it? She counts back. Over six months ago. More than half a year. Too long.

  William nods. “Cool. We’ll go out, then. Tonight—if you can get away.” He looks toward the front window of Pulse. “I gotta go.”

  Dove nods, feeling sure that things will improve, that as William said, the muscles of their relationship are just sore from lack of use. “Tonight.”

  12

  HAVING REGAINED HER COMPOSURE after the phone call, Melissa fills the scallion bowl to the top and brings it to the sous-chef for sautéing.

  “You need to compost,” Olivia reminds Melissa.

  “I know I do,” Melissa says, annoyed by Olivia’s hawklike gaze.

  “Before the lunch crowd gets here—Matty doesn’t like them to see us traipsing on the beach with food.”

  “I’m not going to traipse,” Melissa says, and wipes her eyes with her hands, then regrets it. “Ouch. The sting …”

  Olivia shrugs, watching Melissa’s eyes tear up from direct contact with the scallion juice on her fingers. I hate this job, I hate scallions, I hate the stress.

  “Just have an eye bath,” Matty Chase instructs as he breezes by. “Over by the sink—fill up a shot glass with cool water, open your eyes, and tip it back. Works like a charm.”

  With tears streaming down her cheeks, Melissa heads to the sink and, with her vision blurred, finds a shot glass. “Ugh—it feels terrible.”

  “Think of something good—you know, a recent calm feeling.”

  Melissa racks her brain for a feeling like that. “And thinking calm is supposed to help? Everything lately has been so busy—with the flying and the food and working and the …”

  “You’ve got to be able to find one perfect, gentle moment … At least, that’s what my son says.” Matty coughs and shakes his head. “Not that my son’s the epitome of brilliance and planning at the moment.”

  Thinking of the warmth of the hot springs, the easy flow of conversation with the boy in the orange shorts, Melissa pats her eyes dry with a clean towel and blinks a few times. Much better. “Tell your son thanks for the advice. It worked.”

  “Let’s hope the same goes for him soon.” Matty stirs a long-handled wooden spoon in an oversized pot. “If he had your work ethic, I wouldn’t need to find the calm!”<
br />
  Melissa listens and then collects the food remains and heads to the compost. Outside in the bright light, she squints, tripping on her apron and trying not to spill the scallion ends and potato skins.

  She’s halfway down the beach when she hears her name. “Melissa!” Olivia shouts, her voice stern even from a distance. “Phone call!”

  Melissa feels caught between depositing the compost and heading back for the call. What if it’s my bags and they’re all here and I’ll have more than three shirts to wear? It’s too late to return the clothing and clear the charges to Dove’s parents, but it would be nice to at least have my hairbrush …

  “Coming!” Melissa trots back up the length of the beach with the full bowl of food ends.

  “You’re not supposed to get phone calls here,” Olivia says, reprimanding her.

  “Sorry,” Melissa says. Who made you in charge, anyway? Sucking up her courage, Melissa asks, “Not to cause problems, but … what did I do to offend you?”

  Olivia scowls. “It’s not just me. It’s everyone. You sidestepped the application process, for one. We all had to go through hell to get these jobs….” Olivia pauses, making her hair into a bun so tight it makes her face appear stretched backward. “And besides, we were supposed to have someone else working with us …”

  Melissa heads toward the phone. “Oh yeah? Who?”

  Olivia shrugs. “Never mind—it’s over. Just take your phone call and give me the compost. At least one of us has to pull our weight around here.” She takes the metal bowl from Melissa’s hands and, before Melissa can object, heads out to the beach.

  “Look,” Melissa says into the phone, “I can’t receive calls here, and it’s hard to believe my bags magically showed up, so …”

  A voice comes through the receiver. “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have your bags.”

  “Harley?” Melissa smiles, then groans. “Don’t call me here. It’s not allowed …”

  “I know—remember? But I couldn’t resist.”

  Melissa watches the annoyed faces of the staff and whispers, “I’m kind of on everyone’s shit list here. And for no good reason.”

  “Ohhh,” Harley teases, “you must be Matty Chase’s favorite. Everyone always has it in for the one who doesn’t have to work as hard.”

  Melissa picks at a spot on her side. “That’s not true. I work just as hard. They’re just … I don’t even know.”

  Harley speaks quickly. “Look, just stay extra-late tonight. Skip the party I was going to tell you about—”

  “But I …”

  “No buts. Listen, I’ll go to this party solo … or not so solo, as the case may be.” Harley’s grin is nearly audible. “And then we’ll meet tomorrow at Lemon Quay Beach to catch up.”

  “Lemon Quay?”

  “It’s private, but I know someone …”

  “You always know someone,” Melissa says, feeling the need to get back to work.

  “I grew up in a restaurant. Granted, it was a dive and nothing like Matty Chase’s empire, but my advice is … stay late tonight and make all your hard work show. Your problem is that you make it look too easy. I know that’s your thing, but it comes off as too slick. Which is probably why Matty likes you.”

  “Thanks for the input, Harley,” Melissa says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She’s about to hang up when she remembers something. “Hey, Harley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me who the guy is?”

  Harley’s deep laugh invades the phone. “Let me just see how tonight goes and I’ll get back to you.” She pauses. “Say hi to Dove for me.”

  “I will,” Melissa says, looking at the giant wipeable board that displays everyone’s tasks. “But if I can possibly manage it, I won’t see her until tomorrow at least—if I can find somewhere else to stay.”

  “Good luck,” Harley says.

  Under Melissa’s name on the board is Smoothie bar. “I might need it,” Melissa says. At least I’ll get to be outside, she thinks. Not that I’ve ever made a smoothie in my life. But how complicated can it be?

  Many ticking hours later, after serving green tea mango smoothies with a twist, the naked peach (which, to her humiliation, Melissa found out wasn’t “naked” but “ma-ked,” a type of local produce, lots of chocolate swirls and coffee berries, and every kind of concoction in between), Melissa is ready to go home.

  “Only, I don’t exactly have a home,” she explains to Olivia. Melissa wearily wipes the smoothie bar down yet again and fills an order for a strawberry guava mousse with lime. “And if I have to spend another night on the yacht I will just scream.”

  “Yeah, life on a luxury yacht,” Olivia says sarcastically. “Sounds rough.”

  “I get seasick.”

  “So? You work here—and we’re basically at sea,” she says. Over the course of the day Melissa has seen Olivia ease up just a tad, particularly after Melissa agreed to pull a double shift, as per Harley’s suggestion, and work the smoothie bar in the evening when the beach-going crowd fills every outside seat.

  “I just need to have a place to sleep that doesn’t move.” Melissa swiftly hands over two more drinks to servers while Olivia prepares two glasses by rolling their rims in crushed ice and sugar.

  Olivia watches Melissa’s determination as she works. “Well, I’m already crashing with friends, but if I hear of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Melissa gives Olivia a real smile. It’s not much, but it’s something, Melissa thinks. She might not like me, but maybe she won’t actively hate me. She studies the crowd of people waiting for their drinks.

  A woman in a bright turquoise top waves. “Hello! Over here!”

  “You know her?” Olivia asks, caught between disbelief and disapproval.

  Melissa nods reluctantly. “Kind of. She’s a friend of a friend. Hi, Emmy!”

  Emmy Taylor approaches the smoothie bar, jostling a waiter out of the way so she can talk to Melissa. “How quaint—you work here?”

  Melissa nods. “Here’s the cappuccino delight. Table eight. No, six.”

  Olivia goes back to smirking as Melissa tries to balance her work and listening to Emmy rant and rave.

  “So, there we were, all of us at the hot springs—you really should go sometime, Melissa, it’s so fun.” Emmy’s blue eyes are wide with excitement.

  “So I hear,” says Melissa, recalling for the second time today the relaxing feeling of being immersed in water. Was it the water or the company? she wonders.

  “And to make a long story short, I’m having a party next Saturday …” She leans in, making sure to keep her voice loud enough to inspire eavesdropping. “It’ll be the event of the season. Literally. It’s being covered by all the entertainment news shows—and featured in magazines.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “It’s not my doing—just some press thing my parents put together. But you should come. And bring Dove, of course.”

  “You told us.” Melissa keeps working but nods. “Sounds … fun.”

  “It will be. It’s at the Botanical Gardens,” Emmy says. She stares while Melissa wipes up a blotch of melted chocolate. “Sorry you have to work, or you could join us.”

  Melissa straightens herself up. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she says, really feeling it. So what if I’ve worked all day and still have six hours to go? “I like it, actually.”

  “Must be the right job for you, then,” Emmy says. “I have to get back to my table, but come say hi if you get a sec.”

  Melissa watches Emmy glide back to her table and sit down with a cluster of friends.

  Skeptical, Olivia asks, “You sure you don’t know them?”

  “I don’t,” Melissa says, looking at Emmy’s table, at her tanned and poised friends. Across from her, with his chair slightly askew, is Max. “Well, maybe I semi-know one of them.” As if on cue, Max looks up from his blended drink, looks at Melissa, and gives a nod.

  The Sugar Hut, Melissa thinks. That�
��s where Max is staying. It’s got tons of rooms. Would it be so bad if I asked him for one night’s accommodation? Melissa wipes her cold hands on a towel and looks again at Max, who offers up his kind smile. “Hey, Olivia, can you make an island mint cream? I’ll be right back. Promise.”

  13

  “ARE YOU HERE WITH anyone?” Dove asks Harley. Her words rush out in a burst of energy. The friends have said their hellos and hugged and gotten past any residual feelings of resentment left over from their time at Les Trois. In my worst nightmare, Dove thinks, I pictured finding Harley slathering sunblock on William. She smiles at Harley, glad her friend is alone—at least for the time being.

  Dove wears a halter dress in the palest shade of blue, highlighting her eyes, and simple sandals. The night air is warm with just a slight breeze. “It’s so funny to see you without boots and a heavy jacket.”

  “I know, right?” Harley reties the shoulder strap of her dress. So maybe I borrowed a few items from the store to wear for special occasions—no big deal, right? She looks down at the palm print dress and remembers the compliment she got for it. “I am here with someone.” She grins. “A him.”

  Dove looks around for evidence of this someone. “Really?”

  Harley nods. “He just went off to find me something to eat. I was so busy at Pulse today I forgot to have lunch. As a result, I’m about to fall over.” Harley fakes passing out.

  “I know Pulse,” Dove says, thinking back to her carefree charge account days. Dove remembers that William went to Pulse today but feels strange bringing him up, like the mere mention of his name will jinx the good feeling she has. I don’t want Harley to think I’m checking up on him or not trusting her. Besides, she looks so happy. “You seem in great shape. Obviously, the island agrees with you.”

  “Definitely,” Harley affirms.

  “It’s so funny,” Dove says, blushing as she admits this, “I was paranoid that you and William would …” She shakes her head. “You know …”