When Josh Groban’s “To Where You Are” began to play in my ears, the tears began to flow, completely unhindered. That song made me visualize Mom and Dad and how much they loved each other. They had endured so much together. No other person would ever understand the relationship that I witnessed between the two of them and their dedication to each other. Their love guided them through my father’s illness and surgeries. I learned strength from them. I knew that, one day, the invaluable education in love and durability they taught me would serve me well when I had a love of my own. Remembering them together and thinking that, as the song said, they were truly, “just a breath away” from each other, made the pain come up and over me with a crushing force. I didn’t expect it as I was sitting there, and it was extremely submersing. In an emotional moment, I felt like I was drowning. I became anxious, fearfully primitive, and raw. In the midst of a panic attack, I, for several moments, understood how a savage dog felt, on a most primal level. They attack the ground and bury their favorite bone, only to claw at the same ground to recover it again. They dredge it up just so they can see it, hold it in between their paws, and lick it. Right then and there, I understood. I became that primal dog. In my panic I wanted to claw at the dirt, screaming and crying. I wanted to savagely dig at the grave so that I could see Dad just once more, to hug him, to kiss him on the cheek, and look at his face. I knew I had to exit that cemetery, quickly. I had become terrified of my own emotions. I ran to my car, tears streaming down my face. As I belted myself, I directed my car home, but I didn’t consciously remember how I arrived there.
Once I was safe inside, the cries plagued me relentlessly until I gagged and felt I was suffocating. It was then I realized I needed a break. It was vital for my mental health to get away, and I knew exactly where I wanted to be; near the ocean.
I thought of dad as I drove to the beach. He was the one that had encouraged me to flip houses, and he was right. I was very good at it. Mom and Dad both cultivated the mindset in me for the renovation business. They said that if there was employment for “making things pretty,” then that was my perfect job. Dad helped me during the “start-up” phase of my business. He wasn’t well at this point. In fact, he was physically limited. His doctors said that cardiovascular disease was what killed him. The truth was that smoking and unhealthy eating was what contributed to his death. People of my dad’s age, and generation, didn’t know how devastating smoking, stress, and unhealthy eating could be. When he was young, all the movie stars smoked and everyone wanted to be like the stars. He usually worked two jobs my entire life which contributed to an unhealthy stress level. Mom has always been a great cook and made delicious, healthy meals, but he would eat a sandwich on the run, or something equally as unhealthy. The illness he developed ravaged his health and body. It took him piece by piece, vein by vein, one limb, and then another. He lost his right leg then his left a little over a year later. Once he lost the second leg, I think he lost the will to live. I tried to take his mind off of everything by asking his advice. I talked to him about everything, especially business decisions.
Previous to my venture of flipping houses, I spent years in another renovation field; that of a cosmetologist. I always trimmed dad’s hair, especially when he was sick or down, to keep his spirits up and assist him in retaining his personal pride. We were always close, but we truly bonded during conversations when dad became too ill to work. In my former occupation, I had used my styling skills mostly catering to the needs of special clients who required wigs and hairpieces for medical reasons.
Over a period of years, that type of work had financially rewarded me, but it also took a great emotional toll. I had accumulated enough money to purchase my first house to renovate. I wanted, and needed, dad’s expertise, and he needed a purpose. When I was growing up dad was always handy because we couldn’t afford the luxury of hiring someone when any small thing went wrong in our home. He had a great deal of knowledge by necessity alone, and he was a great judge of character.
When the time came for me to hire subcontractors, Dad helped me in interviewing the crews that I would need to do the work to remodel, rewire, repaint, and any other task that was needed to complete the vision I had for that particular home. He showed me what was needed to finish my vision on budget, on time, and how to sell the property at a fair, but profitable, price. He was on site with me for many, if not all, of the renovations, and since he was a retired police officer, he carried an authoritative “air” about him. No one thought to be dishonest with us regarding the business. I was happy living with the knowledge that he survived his illness long enough to see his girl successfully working at something she loved, and being profitable doing so. I’m happy that we had the chance to work together. Those were memories that charmed me and brought a smile to my face. Supervising the jobs until the day before he died made him happy. We had completed our last “flip”.
Although I had numerous prospects, I had a favorable sum in the bank, and I currently had no desire to start another project. I needed to heal. I wanted to heal. I missed him, and I wanted to be at the beach with my memories. This was my “happy place.” TTT
That was a few weeks ago, and today, the ocean breeze caressed my skin. These days, I found myself crying less, smiling more, and feeling more peaceful. The numbness occasionally crept in, but less since I had come to the ocean. All of our family vacations were here, at this beach. My happiest memories of mom, dad, and I lived here, in this town. I loved it here. I was always content here. I found an unusual amount of peace here, as well as an enlivening amount of energy. It was a place of enjoyment and healing for me.
So each and every day, for the last few weeks, I took a walk on the beach, thought of Dad, and remembered our family vacations. The excruciating pain of his loss lessened with each breath I took of ocean air. I could downgrade my emotions from “raw” to “sensitive”, and I hoped that, with each step I took every morning, with each breeze, and with each ray of sunshine on my skin that just a piece of the agony and hurt that I currently experienced would begin to dissipate.
The unexpected pleasure of making eye contact with the handsome man on the porch was a nice morning diversion. Typically, the beach was deserted this time of year. The fall was always a great time of the year at the beach. The crowds had diminished, and the weather was still generally warm. I could dress in shorts or sweats, and as I got closer to the beach house, I could see that the guy on the porch had on a black t-shirt that revealed nothing more than a very fit and chiseled upper body, and I smiled when I realized that he must be of above average intelligence…because he had been holding a cup of coffee…
…and as Declan anticipated the tempting, smiling woman approaching him, he valued the intuition of putting on a fresh pot to brew…
T I Like The Sunrise – Amel Larrieux
TT Beyond – William Joseph
TTT Suspended – Matt Nathanson
Well this is working out better than if I'd planned it! Declan thought as he settled himself in his chair on the porch. T He was wearing sweatpants, but he had pulled a t-shirt over his head before stepping out the door. He noticed she had sweatpants on today as well. When he focused his eyes and spied a little closer, it looked like she had light gloves on too. The sky was just shy of a shade of grey today, and the waves were rough in the ocean; the roar of the crashing surf drowned out any songs of seagulls.
Over the past few weeks, Declan had been referring to her as “his beautiful girl” whenever he spotted her, since he had yet to know her name. His girl looked beautiful with the wind whipping her hair all around her. His curiosity was peaking and was starting to get the better of him. Observing someone continually from your own home didn’t make you a stalker, did it? It wasn’t as if he purposely watched her, but after the first few days, if he said he didn’t look for her, then he’d be lying. He could argue that he was just watching what was coming into his clear view, but he knew that he was searching her out, and—if he admitted it—he
would have been disappointed if she hadn’t shown up. The fact that he appreciated and enjoyed the sight of her was an unexpected bonus. He could see from where he sat that the wind had stroked her cheeks into a deeper shade of pink this morning.
Holding his hot cup of coffee in between his hands, Declan moved it around to keep his fingers from feeling the sting of the chill in the air. In anticipation of offering his girl an enticing hot cup, he was thankful she appeared to be shivery.
Just then, a crack of thunder split the quiet of the sky, and he saw her jump up from the spot where she was. The skies opened up and rain started coming down on the beach. Noticing she had no cover from the rain as she ran up the beach, he had no doubt she would be chilled and wet. The fates were working in favor of his plan. As he stood from his seat, his girl noticed him, and he waved her over…
I debated whether to walk this morning or not, but tossing and turning through the darkness isn’t my favorite way to spend the twilight hours. That’s what my entire night consisted of. My Aunt and Uncle were so accommodating for allowing me to stay in their old beach house, and believe me, I absolutely love their house. I just wasn’t used to the mysterious house noises. I had never been there alone, only with family during vacation. The house was usually filled with people. Aunts, uncles, cousins, Mom, and Dad; all my vacation memories with them were here. I could still feel Dad as I walked through the rooms. We all went the same week; Fourth of July week, every year. Sitting on the front porch and having coffee with my dad every morning was one of my most treasured memories. On the night of the Fourth, we would walk up to the beach for the fireworks where we could see the boats gloriously line up in the ocean. The colorful spectacle over the water was the highlight of the night. The recollections were slowly bringing me out of my sadness. Just yesterday, I had a sweet memory of him making spaghetti in the kitchen of The Blackjack. He was making all of us laugh because he was making the meatballs while talking like Julia Child. Yes, the good thoughts are replacing the bad ones, and the smiles are replacing the tears much more frequently.
Late last night being by myself freaked me out. The wind whipped up because the weather was about to change. That’s the thing with old houses, though; you hear every creak and whine. My fears were unwarranted but I was still scared. The house noises caught me off guard. Seeing this guy made me think of how long it had been since I had someone special in my life. I thought I was so self-sufficient, but scary noises made me jumpy. I didn’t have someone because my personal life had just slipped through the cracks. Last night it would have been nice to have someone to call when I was a little scared. I had met a few guys, and it wasn’t for lack of trying, but I just couldn’t find anyone who kept my interest. Dad said I needed someone who wouldn’t let me push him around because I was used to telling my guys what to do. Yeah, that was it. Not! I didn’t have the time. I wasn’t looking, so I wasn’t finding him.
Sitting here, staring out…well, this cleared my head. This is where I sat on the beach with Dad, when he had his legs and could walk. I walked down here with Mom too. They always knew where I was. This was our spot on the beach; our personal sandy square of real estate—sort of. It gave me a sense of security to be here, and I loved it. TT
The sky had a grey overcast, and the chill in the air led me to believe that it would rain. It looked as if it were going to blow in quickly. I started to quicken my pace and run up the beach. I was headed toward the houses so that I could get to the road before the sky split apart. It wasn’t comforting to think of being on a wide beach during a storm.
As I lifted my face to see how close I was to the houses, I saw him; a man on the porch of a beautifully restored beach house. He was a ruggedly handsome man. I had seen him before, but I hadn’t paid close attention. I was too immersed in my own emotions to notice much of my surroundings. I did see that he was on the porch when I walked on the beach this morning. I hadn’t discerned much about him from the fifty feet or so of distance between us.
Now, as I got closer, I realized exactly how handsome he was. It was such a pleasure to see someone who wasn’t only devilishly good looking, but he appeared to be around my age, and I smiled at him. I received a welcoming smile in return.
The space narrowed as I approached his house and he directed his attention toward me. I politely removed my glove and extended my hand. “Hi. I’m Aria.”
Three simple words: “Hi. I’m Aria.” To say that she was beautiful when she blushed would have done her a disservice. “Beautiful” was something that the world and I differed greatly in our definition. My industry defined beauty as extremely thin, very tall, prominent bone structure, and pale skin. Aria was none of those things. I had seen her from a distance, but I was enjoying the view in front of me. She was my definition of beauty. She was small boned, about five foot medium, not too plump, but soft, and her skin had been slightly kissed by the sun from her morning walks. Admiring her from afar was fun. Meeting her in person annihilated my heart. Her pure beauty disarmed me. I felt as if my chest had been crushed.
Once she had taken her hand back, she removed her sunglasses. I was immediately entranced. What I found most mesmerizing about her was the contrast between her dark hair and her gorgeous blue eyes. Her eyes had me spellbound. Their color was changing with her emotions in front of me. Upon closer inspection they were actually, blue-gray.
As she introduced herself, she blushed, and they became a bit more of a crystal blue, not the darker blue-gray that I had first observed.
“Declan Sinclair,” I said to introduce myself as I moved to allow her onto the porch. “I’ve seen you on the beach. Do you live around here?” I was jumping right in. No time like the present.
“No, no. I wish. My aunt and uncle own a beach house, and they’ve been gracious enough to let me stay for awhile. You?” Aria replied.
“Yes, this is mine. I haven’t owned it for very long, though.” I wanted to make Aria comfortable enough to spend longer than a few minutes.
“It’s beautiful. I love the porch. You must enjoy sitting here, listening to the ocean, watching the waves…” she said, and she began to look around, taking in the differing views that the porch offered.
“I do. Lately, I have particularly enjoyed the view,” I said, and I couldn’t help but smile at her again. I hoped she understood my meaning. I motioned to her empty cup.
“I see that your cup is empty. I have fresh coffee in the house. Would you like some?” I offered.
Hesitantly, Aria replied, “Sure. A cup won’t hurt. I can wait outside.”
“I promise, I’m harmless” I laughed putting my hands up in a surrendering fashion. “The coffee is right in the kitchen.”
God! The girl was twisting my insides with her sweet smile.
I led her through the living room, across the dining room, and into the kitchen. When we turned to go into the room, I noticed that her hair was a bit damp.
“Can I get a towel for you?” I managed to say, while motioning toward her head.
“No, I don’t want to trouble you. It will dry. I don’t want you to go out of your way…”
“It’s no trouble at all!” I said as I reached around to the laundry room to get a clean towel for her.
As I was handing her the towel, a loud crack of thunder and a flash of lightening ripped the sky.
I was a bit reluctant to be in Declan’s house, but my curiosity to see the inside had won over my common sense. He was trying to be a gentleman, handing me a towel for my soppy hair when the lightning struck.
“Oh my gosh!” I screamed and jumped while Declan was handing me the towel.
I ran right into him. His chest was a solid, muscular wall, and for a moment, his arms came impulsively and reassuringly around me. Gripping his arms proved to be the anchor I needed to keep me standing. The jolt of lightening may have been in the distance, but I felt it internally the moment he touched me. It wasn’t a spark. The mere touch of his hands caused my senses to spike from the heat, like a
n unexpected fever. It collided with my hibernating libido until everything within me was on a heightened state of alert. A tingling sensation was electrifying me in more ways than one.
I took a step back, noticing that my breathing had become heavy and rapid. I felt as if I’d been burned and I tried to steady myself. His nearness made me lose my equilibrium.
“It’s okay.” He laughed while he held me to steady my footing.
“Sorry. I’m not, usually, such a wuss,” I said as I tried to smile at him while regaining my composure.
I noticed a lot in those brief seconds, while I was in his arms. He had nice tattoos and very muscular biceps. The momentary feeling of security was very nice, especially when I realized that I hadn’t been held like that for awhile. TTT
“Thank you for the towel,” I said as I leaned my head over to dry my hair.
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Three sugars and some cream to make it light.” At that answer, he looked at me and raised one eyebrow as if my comment was sacrilegious. “Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “I like to think that my coffee is a ‘treat’.”
“I don’t think you can classify this as ‘coffee’ anymore with those additions” he said laughing as he held my cup in front of me.
“It isn’t. It’s dessert, and I treat myself to ‘dessert’ a couple of times every day!” I enthusiastically proclaimed, to which Declan just shook his head in mock dismay.
Declan was a striking man, now that I was seeing him up close. I had noticed him on the porch several times, if I were to be honest with myself. He truly looked ambiguous from the distance I had seen him. He seemed somewhat familiar, but I was uncertain from where. I couldn’t place whether I had met him before. No matter, though, what I saw in front of me was a wonderful combination of refinement and rebel. He had short, dark hair and the perfect amount of stubble on his face. His profile was artistically and divinely cut. His upper lip was firm, and his bottom lip was plump and full. His neck was thick and strong, and I loved how it flowed with a forceful grace into his powerful shoulders. Declan had lots of tattoos, and I almost wished the t-shirt away so that I could discover the ink configurations. He was easy on the eyes, and my eyes needed to rest from crying. Gazing at him was a wicked diversion. When he handed me the coffee cup, I wanted to stare, but I didn’t linger.
Positive/Negativity Page 2
