“Nice try, but I’m telling you we didn’t do it.”
“Okay, okay. I believe you.”
Earlier, as I had recounted the Vegas story, or most of it anyway, she had pressed me on the sex issue. It took me several minutes to convince her that Drew and I hadn’t done it, but she obviously wanted to give it one more try.
As the day went on, I found myself still angry with Drew. He had belittled my pain. That’s how I saw it, anyway, but later in the evening, I would see it much differently.
. . . . .
“You overreacted,” Liz said.
“You think so?”
“Uh, yeah. Big time. Like, the worst overreaction I’ve ever heard.”
It was just after nine that night, and I was lying on my bed, talking to her on the phone. My day at work hadn’t gotten any better. It was long and boring, I couldn’t get my mind off of Drew, and I couldn’t talk to Rebecca about it, so I was left turning it over and over in my mind, alone. Later, just after I ate dinner, I decided that I didn’t have to face this alone after all. So I called Liz, told her the story, and she quickly put me in my place.
“First of all, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this guy until now. Second…I’m going to tell you something you don’t want to hear, but it’s something you need to hear.”
I closed my eyes, bracing for it. “Okay.”
“You’re taking your anger at Kevin out on Drew.”
“What? No, I’m really not.”
“Yeah, you really are. The way you’re telling it to me, all he did was say he thought it was going to be worse, like you were going to tell him you were molested as a child or something, right?”
I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. I didn’t say anything.
“I’ll take that silence as you agreeing with me,” she said. “So he says something that you take the wrong way and because of all this anger you have at Kevin—which I understand, I really do—you lash out at Drew. This is the first guy you’ve let get close to you since Kevin and when he does something that you interpret wrong, you freak out.”
We were both silent for a moment.
“You’re probably right,” I said.
“Oh, I’m right.” She laughed. “Or I’m wrong and you’re in love with him and you were looking for a reason to push him away.”
Hearing those words was a shock. Even more surprising was that I didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. Could I have done that? Pushed him away on purpose because I was starting to feel something for him? I couldn’t rule it out, but I also didn’t want to admit it. Not to myself and not to Liz. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Anyway, call him or text him. And keep me updated.”
“I will.” I dreaded the thought of calling Drew and apologizing, while at the same time I couldn’t wait to get off the phone with Liz so I could do it. What the hell was going on with me? I needed to get a hold of myself. “So, anything new going on down there?”
She knew what I meant. I wanted to know if she had heard anything else about Kevin. I should have been well on my way to deleting him from my life, but curiosity got the best of me after Liz’s last update of Kevin getting out of control.
“Oh, shit,” she said. “I almost forgot to tell you with all of your own drama going on.”
“Anything that starts with ‘Oh, shit’ can’t be good. Tell me.”
She laughed. “Okay, so two nights ago Brad and Wendy are over in Clearwater for Wendy’s cousin’s engagement party. They left early because there was hardly any food there and they end up at The Breezeway. Remember that place?”
“I think so.”
“You and I went there once. Remember the rubbery oysters?”
That was the only reminder I needed. “Oh, God, yeah. We just left some cash on the table and got out of there.”
“Right. That place. Anyway, guess who’s waiting tables there…”
I gasped. “No shit.”
“Yup. No one had heard from him in like a week. I guess he didn’t want anyone to know that he’d gone from an internship at an engineering firm to carrying buckets of steaming, chewy, gross oysters.”
“So what happened?”
“He avoided their table the whole time,” she said. “And they eventually decided not to say anything to him because he was obviously embarrassed.”
To me, a job was a job and there was nothing wrong with what he was doing. Other than the gross food they served there. But the thought of Kevin doing it was surprising. I couldn’t count the number of times he talked about getting a good education so he wouldn’t have to end up in the service industry like his older brother, Andy, who had dropped out of high school and had spent the last eight years job-hopping from restaurant to restaurant. Kevin was determined not to have a life like that. At times, it was almost an obsession with him. Clearly, he was having a bad summer.
Once again, I found myself battling over feeling sorry for him, and feeling triumphant for myself, like the Universe was acting on my behalf and making Kevin’s life difficult.
As always when this came up in my mind, I reminded myself that we were finished, I didn’t want anything to do with him, and I needed to move forward.
Which, at the moment, meant getting in touch with Drew.
. . . . .
I texted him around ten p.m. and got nothing back, so forty minutes later I texted him again and decided I’d leave it at that. Two texts were enough. I didn’t want to give him the impression that I was desperate to talk to him, even if I was a little bit.
I woke up the next morning and checked my phone, finding no response from Drew.
The minutes ticked by like seconds at work. It was busy most of the day. An overcast day with light but steady rain forced people off the beaches and into shops, restaurants, and any other indoor activities they could find.
A light breeze joined the persistent rain in the afternoon, and by four o’clock the typical afternoon storms were firing up along the coast.
The wind kicked up some good waves, so after work I spent the early evening surfing and thinking, sorting out what had happened over the last few days, wondering why Drew was ignoring me.
Surfing brought me the peace it always did…
I’m on the wave. It’s powerful. Rough. Almost violent. It pushes me. Lifts me.
I’m free.
My mind is clear of all trouble. Clear of my past.
It’s just the ocean and me.
Forty-five minutes later, I was exhausted from riding hard. My legs felt almost numb from the intense workout, and as I dragged the board onto the beach, I sat down in the sand and looked out at the ocean, catching my breath. That’s always when the peace and serenity of surfing starts to fade and my life comes back into focus.
I sat there for about thirty minutes, letting the rain wash the salt water off my body and out of my hair.
I thought about Drew not texting me back and the more I thought about it the more my disappointment turned to resentment. Sure, I had kicked him out of my place, but what was this ignoring all about? That didn’t seem like the Drew I knew. Or thought I knew.
When I got back to the house, I thought about asking Drew’s grandmother if she knew where he was, but I didn’t see any lights on in the house and I knew they sometimes went to bed very early. Maybe it was better that I not drag her into our little quarrel.
I went into my apartment, showered, made a quick salad with some tuna chunks and watched Netflix until I fell asleep.
. . . . .
I worked over the weekend, but did get a chance to go out Saturday night. That afternoon, Rebecca asked me if I wanted to go with her and Kyle to a Charleston RiverDogs game.
“I’m not really into baseball.”
“Neither am I,” she said. “I actually can’t stand baseball. But this is fun. It’s like a party.”
I looked at her with disbelief. “Baseball? Like a party? Maybe a slumber party wh
ere everyone falls asleep early.”
“Okay, fine, it’s not like a party. I just go sometimes because Kyle likes to go. Plus, I made him watch Love Actually with me a couple of nights ago, so I owe him. And they have these awesome beer-shakes there.”
“Beer…what?”
“Beer-shakes. Milkshakes with beer in them. Now that I know I can drink without screwing up a baby, it’s on.”
“That sounds disgusting,” I said. “But I don’t have a fake ID, anyway.” I figured that was enough to get me out of trying what sounded like a terrible concoction.
She waved me off. “I’ll buy two and bring them to the seats. Nobody’s gonna know. Trust me, this wouldn’t be the first time someone did that.”
I had nothing else to do. It was Saturday night, I still hadn’t heard from Drew, and I needed a distraction, so I decided to go.
Rebecca pulled off the beer-shake caper and brought me a Guinness caramel flavored one. It wasn’t as disgusting as it sounded, it was actually pretty good, especially since it cooled me down. It was a hot evening at the end of July, the humidity made me feel sticky all over, and mosquitoes took advantage of the complete lack of a breeze to launch a full-scale attack on the stadium.
Kyle had brought two friends along. One of them was loud and obnoxious, the other was quiet like Kyle, and the cutest of them all—he looked like he belonged in an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, wearing cargo shorts and an open button-down shirt with nothing underneath, showing off abs that were so perfectly etched they almost looked fake.
I couldn’t have cared less about the baseball game, so aside from talking with Rebecca, I spent most of the night thinking about Drew. I must have checked my phone fifty times, even when there was no text alert.
The one time my phone did chime, I grabbed it so quickly I almost slung it into the row of seats in front of us.
It was Liz, asking whether I had talked to Drew. I texted her back and told her I hadn’t, and that he was obviously ignoring me. She wrote back, telling me to find him, go where he usually hangs out, don’t give up.
I had seen Drew on the beach and in the store, and we had eaten at the Banana Cabana the day he bailed me out of jail, but other than that I had no idea where he spent his time.
But I knew where he lived.
. . . . .
The next morning, I decided that I was no longer going to wait for him to get in touch with me. I was going to find him, corner him, and demand that he talk to me or at least hear me out. I didn’t care how desperate it made me look. I just wanted to clear this up and apologize. Whatever he decided to do after that was up to him. I had no control over it.
As soon as I left my apartment and got to my car, I thought maybe I should check with his grandmother first. As I was about to knock, she walked past the glass storm door. She was holding an old-fashioned water can, the kind with the big looping handle and long spout. She saw me and waved me in.
“Good morning.” She always had the same reliable and genuine smile for me. “I’m just giving the plants something to drink. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, closing the door behind me. “I hope you don’t mind—”
“Not at all.” She tilted the pitcher over a potted miniature palm in the hallway. “We’re always glad to have company.”
I rarely saw Mr. Russell, but this morning he was seated in the sunroom, which I could see when I looked down the long hallway through the house, right to the back. It looked like he was staring down at the table. I’d never been around anyone with Alzheimer’s, and I wondered if that was how he spent a lot of his time.
Mrs. Russell shook the can and I heard only a few drops left in it. “Let’s go into the kitchen so I can fill this up. Would you like some bacon?”
“No, thank you.”
She turned and padded down the hallway in her slippers. “You sure, honey? I already made it.”
“I could tell when I came inside. It smells delicious, but I’m sure. Thank you.” I followed her, walking slowly so I could look at the hallway walls. They were covered with family pictures. I wanted to stop and see if I could find one of Drew as a child, but I didn’t want to make it obvious so I continued on to the kitchen.
Mrs. Russell stood at the sink as she filled the pitcher. “What brings you by this morning? Everything okay in the apartment?”
“Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. I’m just wondering…have you talked with Drew?”
“Not in the last few days.” She turned the water off, picked up a towel and dried off the exterior of the pitcher. As she turned around, she said, “But that’s not uncommon. Sometimes I’ll talk to him three days in a row, sometimes I’ll see him two days in a row, then other times I won’t see or hear from him for four or five days.” She smiled as she walked toward me. “But I never worry about him. I can always reach him. Everyone in your generation can be reached at any time, it seems. I’ll never get that. Seems to me that a person needs their space where no one can bother them for a while. But Drew’s no different. He carries that phone around like his life depends on it. Other than that, as far as I’m concerned, he’s got his head screwed on right. I don’t care what his mother says, and I care even less what his father says.”
She didn’t elaborate, and since I had no idea whether she knew that Drew had told me about his parents, I just let it go without comment. She said it matter-of-factly, without malice, just straight-forward honesty. She obviously had a firm opinion when it came to Drew, and it didn’t matter what her daughter or her son-in-law said.
The phone rang and she said, “Excuse me for a minute,” as she walked over to the phone that was mounted on the wall, and I felt like I was stepping back in time. It didn’t even occur to me that people still had those.
As she answered the call, I looked out to the sunroom. Drew’s grandfather was indeed looking down at the table, but he wasn’t staring at it as I had suspected earlier. At the time, I could only see him from behind. Now I had an angle that allowed me to see more. He had cards laid out before him.
I didn’t get to watch long enough to know whether he was doing anything with them, or just looking at them because Mrs. Russell ended her call. “That was my friend from church, calling with bad news like she always does. I have to keep those calls short just to save my own sanity.”
I liked this lady. She was sharp-witted and pleasant to be around. I found myself imagining what it would have been like for Drew as a child being around these two. He’d told me a little bit, but I imagined there were many interesting times.
“Don’t you worry about Drew,” she said. “He’ll pop up before you know it. Always does.”
I told her I was sure she was right, thanked her, and left.
. . . . .
I believed his grandmother, but I wasn’t content to wait.
I drove to the Isle of Palms Marina, parked, and walked along the dock. I didn’t remember the slip number, but I knew the general area it was in and I remembered that the boat’s name was “AquaHolic.”
I knocked a few times on the side of the boat. Nothing. I knocked again and called out his name. Nothing. I decided to go aboard. Maybe he was sleeping and I needed to knock on the door to stir him out of his slumber. Or maybe I’d get lucky and discover that he’d left his journal out on the deck and I could find out everything I wanted to know about him.
I started climbing up the ladder.
“He’s not home,” a voice said from below. I stopped halfway up and looked down at the dock. An older man stood there. “If you’re looking for Drew, he’s gone. Left about a week ago.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Beats me.”
When I was back down on the dock I said, “Okay, well, thanks.”
Then, the best sight I had seen in the last week: Cliff trotting down the dock toward me. His tail wagged back and forth and with him panting, it looked like he was smiling. I knelt down to greet him and he licked my face.
“Clifford,�
� the old man said, “be gentle.”
“He’s fine.” I looked up at the man. “You watch after Cliff when Drew is gone, right?”
“Sure do. He’s a handful, but we love him. And we love the dog, too.” His laugh was phlegmy, like you hear from so many elderly people, and he had a great smile as he cracked himself up.
I laughed with him. “Do you know when Drew’s coming back?”
He shook his head. “Not for sure. Said about a week and a half, so should just be a few days.”
I introduced myself to the old man and he said, “Call me Buck,” explaining that it was a nickname from his time in the military at the end of World War Two and the Korean War, and he obviously took a lot of pride in saying it.
“I’m a friend of Drew’s.” I stood and wiped my slobbery face on my t-shirt. “We had a little…falling out, I guess you’d call it.”
He nodded and pressed his mouth into a line, conveying what looked to be genuine sympathy. “Well, you youngsters need to work it out. Life’s too short for squabbles.” I could see why Drew liked this guy.
“I know this is asking a lot,” I said, “but would you do me a favor?”
Chapter Thirteen
Two days later, just after eight in the morning, my phone rang.
I answered it and heard the words I’d been waiting for: “He’s here.”
“Thanks, Buck. I really appreciate it.”
Ten minutes later, I parked my car at the marina and headed down the docks with a purpose. He was going to give me a few minutes to say what I wanted to say, whether he liked it or not.
My purposeful walk sounded like more like a stomp as each step hit the wooden dock. The pelicans and seagulls perched on the pylons took flight as I passed by.
My heart rate increased as I stood next to the AquaHolic. I was about to call out his name when he appeared. Drew wore blue cotton workout shorts, his Chicago Cubs baseball cap on backwards, and nothing else. He was holding a hose.
Break My Fall (No Limits) Page 11
