Wet: Part 1

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  “But you do know what’s wrong.”

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to do or say.

  “Undo it! Get him back to the Paul I know and love, my brother, my partner in crime.”

  “Taylor, I would give anything if only I could.”

  Taylor smirked. “Give him your virginity then. That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re dangling it over him, like a carrot on a stick.”

  She gasped. “No, I would never—” She had to take a second to catch the breath he’d knocked out of her.

  “Actually, give it to me. That would get him over it faster. He’s used to me taking all his girls. No more carrot, no more leading him around by the nose.” One corner of his mouth went up as he watched the revulsion sweep across her face. He leaned in to gaze into her eyes. “I think I could fall so in love with you, beautiful. Do you feel it, the chemistry between us? Give me a chance. We owe it to ourselves to see where this can go.”

  “You are really a piece of work.”

  “You’ll love how great my piece works, but not as much as I could love you. I’m sorry, that was crude. I can’t control my manners sometimes, but honestly, you’re just the kind of girl I’ve been searching for. I was so jealous last night—all through dinner, watching you look at him. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted you to look at me like that. I’m falling for you. Do you think there’s any possibility you could ever feel that way about me?”

  He sounded so sincere, he’d rendered her speechless. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, wondering if he was mentally ill.

  “I could love you, Rhees,” he said, gazing into her eyes, the earnest look in his—he must have been able to tell she didn’t believe a word he’d said because he finally dropped the act. “Well, at least I’m not afraid to say the L-word.”

  Rhees snorted out an incredulous laugh.

  “My point is, you’ll never hear Paul say it.” Taylor looked her over as if gauging her response. “I think you’ll want him to, but you’re wasting your time—never going to happen.”

  “I don’t—we’re just friends.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.” They sat quietly for a few seconds. “So taking love out of the equation, what do you say? Let’s have sex and put the poor boy out of his misery so he can get back to normal.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Yes, I am. And Paul is usually disgusting with me, but you’re ruining everything.” Taylor took advantage of the bewildered stupor he’d put her in and leaned into her, breathed on her neck. She froze at the contact, literally became immobile, long enough for him to skim his lips from the base of her throat up to her ear. Two seconds later—it felt more like two hours in her mind, she finally gathered her wits and leaped up, away from him.

  “Excuse me, but this conversation is making me sick. I’m going to go throw up.” She walked off to the bathroom.

  Taylor grinned as he watched her walk away until he noticed Paul at the other corner of the deck, looking shocked to find his best friend getting cozy with Rhees. He knew what Paul thought—he was wrong, but only because Rhees didn’t play along. Taylor decided to take matters into his own hands. He hopped to his feet.

  “Hey! Wait for me,” he called and took off after her. Rhees had already locked herself in the bathroom and didn’t realize what he’d done. Taylor removed his T-shirt and set it in the small, open window of the bathroom.

  “Someone’s in here!” Rhees snapped. She leaned against the door, trying to compose herself, so it didn’t really matter if someone decided to use the window sill as a personal shelf. She just wanted to be left alone.

  Taylor took a second to rethink what he was doing and shrugged. He slinked around the corner and hid in the compressor room. He felt bad about it, but in his heart, he believed he was doing Paul a favor.

  oOo

  Paul finished his errand and made it back to the shop, hoping to finally catch a glimpse of Rhees. So far he hadn’t had any luck. He checked his watch again. Two o’clock. She’d never stayed away from the shop so long. He’d dropped two cases of beer off at her apartment, wanting to pay Regina back for what he drank the night before, but it also gave him what he thought was a good excuse to see Rhees. He struck out there too. He never did figure out what he’d say to her if he found her at home, but he didn’t. Now he worried about her more than before.

  He poked his head in the office to ask Claire if she’d seen Rhees, but the room sat empty. A note taped to Claire’s computer monitor said she’d be back in ten minutes. He headed around the building to the deck. He walked around the corner just in time to see Taylor getting cozy on the far corner—with Rhees. Paul’s reflex reaction was to head the other direction, fast. He didn’t want to see it, but he couldn’t move. He stood, watching, trying to remember how to move his legs and draw air into his lungs.

  Rhees walked off and Taylor watched until he turned to see Paul standing there, gaping. Taylor jumped up and took off after her.

  Taylor just gave me the look. That nauseating look that says, I win. Paul had to lean against the wall to catch his breath. It didn’t make sense. Why would she fall for Taylor? He’s as bad as I am!

  “That’s right, it doesn’t make sense.” Paul made his way to the other corner and peered around, hoping to see he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. He refused to believe it, believe she was like that. He knew she wasn’t, but he knew Taylor too well. He’d probably professed his love . . .

  “Oh God.” Paul looked up toward heaven. Taylor promised to marry her. She’s too naïve, too trusting to know he’d just fed her a line.

  The bathroom door was closed . . . Taylor’s shirt hung out the window. Paul leaned against the wall again and felt sick. He had to bend over and rest his hands on his knees for a minute before he found the strength to walk away. He slipped into the gear room. No one wanted to be in the hot, dark space that time of the day. He could be alone, the perfect place to think for a second.

  “Damn it, Taylor.” He shook his head. Rhees falling for Taylor—the one man who would hurt him, cut him the deepest.

  He heard a whimper and recognized the voice.

  “Seriously?” He looked up to heaven again in quiet prayer. Not only did he have to know about it, he had to hear it happening?

  He turned to leave the gear room, escape before the sound—too late—was forever etched in his brain. But he could spare himself from hearing more to have to remember. He heard more before he made it safely away. Something didn’t fit. He couldn’t help it. He reluctantly moved closer to the equipment room wall that connected with the bathroom. He didn’t want to hear it, but he had to know. He quietly pushed his way through the BCs that hung above, climbed over all the fins on the floor, trying to get as close as he could. Another moan.

  “No.” He changed his mind. He turned to get out of there, away from it. He didn’t want to know after all. He tripped on the fins stacked on the floor and landed on his butt with a thud.

  He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. Surely they’d heard him. They would know he’d been snooping, spying on them. The sounds from the bathroom didn’t stop. Rhees was crying.

  He put his ear against the wall just as she moaned again but the sound quickly muffled, as if someone—Taylor?—had thrown a hand over her mouth. Paul shuddered. She wept softly, quietly like she didn’t want anyone to hear, but why didn’t Taylor stop? She wasn’t enjoying it—what kind of man wouldn’t stop? Taylor? He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard with his own ears.

  Paul jerked away from the wall and fumbled over the equipment, trying to get out so he could kill his childhood friend, but the fins moved and slipped beneath him, impeding his objective, again. In that split-second, his inability to move as fast as he wanted to, she murmured something about wishing she could have a do-over.

&
nbsp; He quieted and stopped trying to get to her. He sat and listened with a new understanding.

  “I’m sorry, Paul, I didn’t mean it.” Not the kind of sweet nothings a woman whispers into a man’s ear—a man named Taylor, and definitely not what she’d say while being forced.

  He would have collapsed with relief if he hadn’t already fallen on the floor. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. He finally crawled out of the mess and made his way around to the bathroom.

  He could still hear the faint sounds of her sobs, now that he knew what to listen for. He grimaced, wished she’d stop wasting her tears on him. He grabbed Taylor’s shirt from the window sill and stared at it.

  “That bastard,” he mumbled. “Taye!” he yelled this time, wondering where his friend, the jerk, had slinked off to. He wondered how Taye had managed to rattle his cage so easily. “Surf’s up!”

  Rhees’ crying paused. She’d heard him too and he turned expectantly, hoping she’d open the door—hoping she would, but he knew she wouldn’t want him to see she’d been crying.

  “Taye!” he yelled again to flush the scoundrel out from hiding. He had to give her the time she needed.

  From the bathroom, Rhees heard the commotion that only lasted a few minutes before the motor of the Porgy roared to life and sped away. She felt a little better knowing Paul had gone surfing. At least he acted like everything was fine. Someone knocked on the door.

  “Are you going to be much longer? I have to go.” It was Ulla. Rhees wiped her eyes and cheeks with the hem of her shirt.

  “Um, yeah. Just another sec.”

  Rhees made it into the office and worked on Dailies for a while. She knew Paul had gone surfing, but it drove her crazy, waiting for him to get back.

  “Did Paul go surfing?” she asked, hoping Claire knew how long they would be.

  “Yeah. Rick said the surf was pretty gnarly today, duude. They went to catch some waves.” Claire laughed at her attempt to impersonate a surfer bum.

  “Did he say how long they’d be?” Rhees didn’t even notice Claire’s joke.

  “Okay, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, Duck. Other girls know the code. Nothing always means something. Paul’s been quiet today. You showed up late. Do you two need to talk?”

  “Actually, the problem is that we—I talk too much! I said something really horrible. I know I hurt his feelings and I just . . . I just need to see him.”

  “They’re on the south tip of the island, windward side.” Claire watched Rhees for a few seconds. “There’s a rocky point. You’d be able to watch from there,” Claire said.

  “You’re probably going to need Ignacio’s taxi to get there in time.”

  Claire reached for the office phone and asked Ignacio to come and pick someone up at the shop as soon as possible. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

  oOo

  Rhees got out of the only taxi on the island, a mini-minivan. Most of the people on the island walked everywhere, but there were a few delivery trucks—also miniature in size compared to what Rhees was used to at home—Ignacio’s taxi, a few motorcycles, scooters, and several golf carts.

  “Thanks, Ignacio.”

  “Want me to pick you up later?” Ignacio was one of the few mainlanders on the island, and he spoke with a thick Spanish accent.

  “No, thanks. I think I want to walk back.” She could use the time to think. He backed up, turned around, and drove off, leaving her alone on a high, rocky point overlooking the ocean.

  The leeward side of the island, the calm and serene side where the shop was situated, had helped Rhees get used to the ocean and overcome her fears. The windward side, however, roared untamed and tumultuous, more like what she’d always pictured the ocean to be. She’d grown to love the ocean but more importantly, she’d learned that one should never fail to have respect for it and its immense power and secrets.

  She hiked to the edge of the point and looked out over the water. It only took a second to find the boat beached behind a large rock. Randy sat on the bow, watching the surfers. It only took a second longer to find Paul, Taylor, and Rick. They sat on their boards at what seemed like a long way out, and she assumed they were waiting for the right wave. She wasn’t familiar with the sport.

  She found a smooth rock and sat down to watch. Sure enough, when what must have been the right wave came along—she didn’t understand how they knew which one they wanted—they all got up on their boards and went for a ride. Though they were out a way, she could tell who was who. She didn’t care about watching the others. She couldn’t take her eyes off Paul.

  He popped up on his board, made it look easy, so graceful and at ease—at peace, as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Exactly what she needed to see—she hadn’t shattered his world after all, only her own. He was okay. Paul was enjoying a breakthrough therapy session with Doctor Ocean.

  “I wish I could do that right now.” She realized the untruth of her wish as soon as she’d said it. She had no desire to learn to surf. The big waves scared her to death, but she wished she had an equivalent activity to help her find that same brand of peace.

  Just as she’d started to feel better about his recovery from the hurt she feared she’d caused, she watched as Paul skimmed his board toward Taylor and just as he came up beside him, he slugged Taylor in the face, knocking him off his board. Paul fell as well from the force of his blow. Rhees’ hands flew to cover her mouth, shocked at Paul’s aggressive behavior toward his friend. She had no idea why Paul would do that.

  Rick managed to ride it out to the end and they paddled out to do it again. It looked like they talked about it—joked—laughed, and compared notes before they hopped up on their boards again with a new wave.

  Paul and Taylor have the weirdest relationship. She didn’t understand it one bit.

  Paul looked up at the point. Her heart fluttered, knowing how exposed she suddenly felt, no place to hide. Nothing to do but bite her lip and accept that he knew that she’d come to watch him.

  She wished she could see his expression and hoped that, being too far away for her to see his, he couldn’t see the pain and regret on her face either. She had no good explanation for sitting on a remote, rocky point of the island watching him. She decided not to worry about it. She’d be going home soon, and Paul would be all right—without her, because she’d blown any chance at friendship.

  So why did she feel such an undeniable need to be Paul’s friend—an irrational, illogical, crazy, hopeless need to be friends with that man? She would be heading home soon, she reminded herself, again. The thought filled her with sadness and all she could do not to cry was stare out over the ocean, blankly, trying not to think about anything except how beautiful the sport of surfing was.

  Paul looked up several times—every time he had a chance. She stifled a gasp when he fell from his board, right after looking up . . . at her. When Randy finally drove the boat around to pick them up, she saw him watching again as they headed around the south tip of the island. The boat rounded the bend, and they couldn’t see each other anymore.

  It would be a long walk back, but she didn’t move. The beauty of the point helped her keep her feelings to a manageable plane. The view and the sound of the ocean, the smell, the wind, it all felt so good. It soothed her when she didn’t think she could be soothed ever again.

  Too easily, she procrastinated going back to face life just yet. How did it get so complicated? Not even a year ago, she and her father were just learning to laugh again after her mother’s death, the memories of Mom finally starting to bring a smile to their faces again instead of tears. Then, the heart-shattering news, her father didn’t have long to live. How did she miss it? How had she not realized he was sick? If only she’d . . .

  Now she was all alone in the
world. Too many things didn’t fit into her tidy little box anymore, the box she’d always counted on to survive. The hopelessness she felt didn’t send her into convulsive sobs, but tears fell down her cheeks.

  oOo

  Rhees lost track of time. She had no idea how long she’d sat on the point when a motorcycle rolled up behind her, causing her to panic. She wasn’t ready to face him—it had to be him—it was just like him to face a problem head on. She thought she’d never be ready.

  Paul stopped about ten feet away from her but didn’t turn the motor off. He sat, straddling the bike, the motor idling while he watched her. The motor finally sputtered and fell silent and he put the kickstand down. He climbed off and took a few steps toward her.

  She twisted her head to look at him without turning to face him, trying to wipe her face dry before he saw how bad it was. He hesitated for a second, but then he moved to stand behind her.

  “I knew you’d be crying.”

  Dang it! She’d been crying more than ever lately, and Paul always seemed to be around when she did.

  “But . . . I came anyway.” He looked down.

  “I’m not crying.” She stood and turned to face him.

  “Oh really?” He moved to stand in front of her. He reached out and gently wiped her cheek with his thumb. “What’s this?” He showed her the captured tear.

  “Yeah.” She tried to act casual. “My eyes are just watering—from laughing so hard.”

  He raised one eyebrow with curiosity. “Yeah?”

  She took a deep breath. “Yeah, you see, I was watching these guys down there.” She pointed to where Paul and his friends had been surfing. “I think they thought they could surf, but they were—it was pretty comical.” She tried to look embarrassed for them.