Down the Shore

by T. Torrest

  Jack slides the glass door aside and escorts me into the humongous great room. Even though it’s close to midnight, the entire Tanner clan is sitting around the kitchen island playing cards.

  Mrs. Tanner is the first to notice us standing there. She clasps her hands together and announces, “Oh, Jack! You did it!”

  Mr. Tanner, Stephen, Harrison, and Sean all turn toward us. As Jack ushers me into the room to greet them hello, I see Stephen handing Sean a ten dollar bill.

  He grins but says flatly, “Yeah, Pew. Real great to see you were able to talk Livia into coming back with you. Good job, brother.” Before I have the chance to misinterpret his comment, Stephen turns to me and extends a warm smile. “Best ten bucks I ever lost, however.”

  God, I missed these guys.

  I immediately wrap my arms around Stephen’s huge neck and hug him. As I do, I notice a large, framed family portrait on the wall above the fireplace. It’s the shot I liked best, the six of them on the jetty at Point Pleasant right before Sean tried to shove Harrison into the ocean.

  Mrs. Tanner has artfully arranged four, smaller framed prints underneath the main photo; random shots of the boys goofing around at the water’s edge.

  “That was a good day,” she offers as I swipe a tear from my cheek. How did that get there?

  I think back to the day on the beach with this family and about the night alone with my favorite member of it. It seems like so long ago but only yesterday when Jack and I were in love.

  “Yes,” I consent. “That was a good day.”

  But today is shaping up to be even better.

  * * *

  Jack and I are holding hands, walking along the water. For now, there are no more words that need to pass between us, no more questions left unanswered. The damp sand is squishing between my toes and there’s a cool breeze whipping my hair out of its bobby pins. I must look like hell but I feel fantastic.

  I gaze at the man standing next to me, so handsome in his formalwear-turned-casual shirtsleeves and slacks. I think about how he’s even attractive in a pair of ripped jeans or swimming trunks and realize he’s beautiful not just because of how he looks but because of the person that he is. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; that which is essential is invisible to the eye.

  His gorgeous body doesn’t really hurt the overall package, however.

  I’m reminded of something I haven’t yet told him. “I read ‘The Little Prince,’ you know.”

  Jack stops walking to look at me, an eyebrow lowering as he asks, “You did?”

  “Yes. I was just trying to torture myself, I guess.”

  He smiles at that, asking, “The English version, I hope?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what did you think?”

  My lips purse for a moment before quoting my favorite part. “You are responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” I didn’t know a lick of French, but when I read that line, I knew they were the words from his tattoo. “The thing is though, I can’t figure out whether you’ve tamed me or I’ve tamed you.”

  Jack aims a smile at me, proud that I was able to figure it out. He doesn’t attempt to respond, and just lets the revelation float in the air between us. There’s no right answer anyway.

  I bite my lip, trying to hide a grin when I say, “At least it’s better than the Bart Simpson tat on your ass.”

  Jack almost chokes on his laughter. “I was hoping you forgot about that.”

  He pulls himself together and points out an empty lot, a few houses down from his parents’. “That’s my next project. I start on Wednesday.”

  He seems so proud of himself and that makes me proud for him. “What, no more Thunderjug?”

  He laughs and explains, “There will always be a Thunderjug. But I’m not the only guy in the band to get a real job this past year. After three months on the road, some of us realized it wasn’t the life for us. We still play together every now and then, so it’s cool. It’s like it was when we first started out, just having fun, you know?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  He checks his watch. “Aw crap. I’m late.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about, but respond, “You’re always late.”

  “Not too late, I hope.”

  “Huh?”

  He smirks and offers, “It’s after midnight. I didn’t get a chance to wish you happy anniversary. We met one year ago today—well, yesterday.”

  I stop walking and just look at him, amazed. “You remembered that? I was dying all day thinking about it.”

  “Of course I remember that. It was the day my life was changed forever. How could you think I’d forget about—”

  His words are cut off by the crush of my mouth against his. Instantly, his arms enclose around me tightly, imprisoning my body in a combustible embrace. I press myself against the length of him, loving the feel of his body close to mine, wrapping my hands in his hair as his lips part, sending me into that familiar spiral of oblivion I’ve been living without for much, much too long.

  Damn, the boy’s still got it.

  I pull away slightly and look into his darkened, gray eyes. My voice cracks as I whisper, “Happy new anniversary, Jack.”

  He looks even more taken aback than I feel.

  “I love you, Livia. I never stopped.”

  I look over his shoulder at the beautiful house, wondering what he must have been thinking while building it. If he was as heartbroken as I was, it must have been excruciating for him to work on such a labor of love, building it for my eyes, not knowing if he was ever going to get the chance to show it to me. How agonizing it must have been for him to see it through.

  But maybe everything in this world starts out a little rough around the edges and just needs someone to love it in order to make it truly beautiful. Maybe the most lasting things are so sturdy because they’ve been tested and restructured, tempered and reinforced.

  Like us.

  Maybe all that matters, at least for now, is that we still love each other.

  “I love you too, Jack. I really, really mean it.”

  And I do.

  There’s a year of hurt feelings to overcome, the challenge of trying to forget how much pain we caused one another.

  But right now, none of that seems to matter. I know we’ll get past it and make each other happy. I know that things won’t be perfect and that I shouldn’t expect them to be. I know that this man—this gorgeous, incredible man—is holding me right now, smiling into my eyes, and telling me that he loves me. I can feel with every ounce of my being that it’s the truth.

  And for now, that’s enough. It’s a solid foundation to start with.

  As for the rest?

  Well... we can build from there.

  THE END.

  NOT.

  EPILOGUE

  JACK

  Friday, May 26, 2000

  8:10 PM

  My Townhouse or Condo or whatever

  Shermer Heights

  “How ‘bout these steaks, huh?” I ask Livia, putting down my knife and fork.

  Liv eases back into her chair and folds her hands against her middle with a groan. “Mmm. So good, Jack.”

  I shift in my seat at that, and I see her trying not to smile.

  She’s doing this on purpose. She’s been tormenting me all night with her little sounds and her subtle touches, letting her fingers drift across my skin every chance she gets…

  And now she’s giving me the fuck-me eyes along with a sexy moan.

  Livia pulls this on me a lot, but she’s really amping it up tonight, what with it being a special occasion and all. Fact is, it’s the fifth anniversary of the day we met. And while we were separated for some of that time, we still treat it as a day worth celebrating.

  It is.

  So, I made dinner tonight. Liv normally does most of the cooking, but because I’m trying to be all romantic, I volunteered. Ever since she bought me that Weber grill for our last anniversary, I’
ve become quite the barbecue master.

  It’s funny the way she’s constantly buying “me” all these presents. Like the curtains in my living room or the throw rugs in my bedroom. She’s managed to turn this empty condo into a real home, but I know she’s just stockpiling all this decorative stuff for when she finally moves in someday.

  If she moves in someday.

  I’ve asked her about a million times over the past four years, practically since the first day we got back together. No luck, though. She said it was because she didn’t want to leave her sister hanging, but how hard is it to find another roommate? Besides, Vix and Chris just got married last month. Now that they’re in their own house, Livia’s out of excuses.

  I haven’t bothered her about it in a while, but tonight’s going to be as good a time as any.

  I have a feeling she won’t turn me down this time.

  After I refill her wine glass, I raise mine in a toast. “To second chances,” I say, just like I’ve done during every toast between us for the past four years.

  “To second chances,” she answers back.

  I’ll always be grateful that we figured our shit out. Better late than never, right?

  As bad as it sucked while we were apart, I wouldn’t have changed our reconciliation for the world. We spent those first weeks taking things really slowly. Livia set up an “arrangement” where we agreed to hold off on the sex until both of us were out of questions. We did a lot of talking over that time. It was torture, because after so much time apart, all I wanted was to get my hands on her.

  But I respected what she was trying to do.

  More importantly, we both learned to respect our dynamic. I’ve learned not to push her, and she’s learned to tell me what I need to hear.

  I took her back to The Westlake. And my parents’ house. And the boardwalk… trying to relive every moment we’d spent together, trying to reignite the spark.

  Turns out, it had never left.

  We barely clink glasses and take a sip of our drinks before I’m bounding from the table. “Time for presents!” I announce, pulling a large box out of one of my kitchen cabinets. By the time I set it down at Livia’s spot at the table, a small, flat box is waiting for me at mine.

  “You first,” she orders me with a smile.

  When I tear off the paper, I find myself looking at a kickass silver watch.

  Pulling it out, I wrap it around my wrist, saying, “Wow, Liv. This is really cool!” I take note of the fact that it has two faces on it, most likely so I can set it for two different time zones. I travel a bit for work, and I guess Livia’s getting sick of me calling at odd hours. “Hint taken, babe.”

  She snickers into her hand, explaining, “I just wanted you to have a reminder that I’m counting every minute until your return.” She bats her eyelashes, busting my chops, but I know there’s a hint of truth in her statement.

  “But mostly,” she says, almost shyly, “After I met you, I started to realize time was something to be treasured.” She’s been drawing little imaginary circles on the tablecloth as she speaks, but she stops her doodling to meet my eyes. “Every moment with you has taken my breath away.”

  I smile, then lean across the table to kiss that sweet mouth of hers. “Well, I love it, babe. Thank you. Now you,” I command, waving at the box next to her plate.

  “I don’t care what’s in here. I’m more impressed that you cleaned the condo. Thank you for not being a slob for at least one day.”

  She’s still giggling as she pulls off the paper, but her mouth drops when she sees the digital camera in her hands. I don’t know much about this kind of stuff, so I just got her the best one I could find. She deserves it. Her business has been going great, so much so that she just added a fourth photographer to her employ. She’s amazing, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.

  “Do you like it?” I ask. “Is that the right one?”

  Livia is turning the box over in her hands as she answers, “This is way nicer than the ones I was looking at, Jack. My God. Thank you!” She doesn’t waste any time opening the box and pulling the thing out of its plastic.

  The camera cost a pretty penny, but I received another royalty check from Mayhem last month, just like I do at the end of every quarter. It’s not enough to quit my day job—not that I’d ever be able to just sit around on my ass and do nothing all day anyway—but it always allows for the extras. Freddie and me will still get together and jam pretty regularly, but Booey and Jim formed a new band once I went with the construction full-time.

  JT Contracting has been expanding steadily over the past five years. I brought my cousin Bruce on board a couple years back, and he’s been a huge help to me. He likes to build things, too.

  I miss the rock star thing sometimes, but I’m happy with my life now.

  Besides, touring was a killer. I love playing music but the endless days on the road were brutal. I know it’s not the career for me. I really don’t know how Livia’s father has been able to do it all these years. Russ is still hitting the festivals, but once all that travel got to be too much for Linda, he cut his roadtrips down by half. To make up for it, he and I started a little side gig where we give guitar lessons to some local kids. It’s going well.

  After some friendly pressure from Lutz, Thunderjug is gearing up for a reunion tour this summer. We’re limiting it to Jersey, and we’ll be revisiting some of our favorite places here up north as well as down the shore. Livia rented us a house in Manasquan just for old times’ sake. This one’s got plenty of room for all our friends, a huge bathroom, and—thank fuck—central air.

  Finished with the inspection of her camera, Liv pops up to clear the table. I take the opportunity to throw a good music station on the TV and stretch out on the floor in front of the couch. I finally got some furniture in this place, but I still don’t mind sitting on the carpet. It’s comfortable.

  Especially when Liv comes over and plunks herself down on my lap.

  “I ate too much,” she groans, straddling her knees on either side of me. “Do you mind if we hold off on dessert for a little while?”

  “Yeah, of course. What are we having?”

  “No-bake Éclair Cake. It was easy enough to put together, but I had to lay out about a million ingredients to do so. I figured I’d take advantage of all your awesome counter space. My kitchen is so small!”

  “Well, you could take advantage of it all the time if you moved in.”

  She gives an exasperated sigh and moves off my lap. “Jack, we’ve been through this. Do you really want to see me sitting on the couch in my PJs, my hair in a ponytail because I haven’t washed it in days, and Cheeto dust staining my fingers?”

  “I’ve already seen that. Numerous times. And it’s adorable.”

  “Yeah, sure, every once in a while. But when I don’t have clients coming in, that’s how I spend my life. You’d lose respect for me.”

  “I never had any to begin with.”

  “Ha ha. Besides, my apartment is where I have my studio set up. There’s nowhere to do that here.”

  “We could find a new place and I’ll build you a new studio.”

  She bites her bottom lip, and it makes me want to suck it between my own teeth. But I can tell she’s holding back what she really wants to say. “What is it, Liv?”

  Her gorgeous green eyes meet mine, and I swear, I still get surprised every time I see them.

  “I’ve also been a little dishonest with you about my reasons for not moving in.” She curls her legs underneath her and confesses, “This is going to sound so stupid, but I wasn’t ever the most... conservative girl during my young adulthood.” I can tell this is hard for her. I know she’s not necessarily embarrassed about her past, and I’ve always done my best to convince her that it never bothered me, but I do know that she has some regrets. “Until I met you... I didn’t realize what an empty life I’d been leading. Falling in love with you? It’s been the single most amazing thing in my life. I just...” she tw
irls a strand of hair in her hand, watching as the ends kick out across her fingertips. “I just think that I’d like to do things a bit more... conventionally from here on out.”

  Ah. The old commitment conversation.

  “Well, shit, Liv. We’ve been together for the better part of five years. I think it’s safe to say I’m committed to this relationship.”

  That has the intended effect I was going for. She looks up from her hair and meets my eyes... and then loses it.

  While she’s laughing, I clear my throat and say, “Or you could just let me marry you.”

  Her laughter stops as astonishment drifts across her face. But then, she must think I’m only kidding, because her stunned expression breaks into a smile as she slaps my chest and chastises me. “Very funny, Jack.”

  I rub the spot she just smacked. It’s a little sore.

  “I’m serious.” I reach my hand under the couch, pull out the small box I’d hidden hours ago, and crack it open. Liv’s eyes go wider than I’ve ever seen them, wide enough to mimic the round, princess-cut emerald in my hand. “Marry me, Liv.”

  She puts a hand across her mouth as tears spring to her eyes. “You mean it?”

  That makes me laugh. “Yes, baby. I’m sitting here with a ring and everything. Of course I mean it.”

  In spite of the fact that I’m excited and proud and whatever, I’m also a little sick to my stomach, too. Liv is just frozen in place, staring at the box in my hand, not offering me any clue as to what’s going on in that brain of hers. I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before, but I didn’t think I’d be waiting this long on an answer.

  This isn’t the reaction I was expecting.

  “It’s my birth stone,” she finally says, reaching out toward the ring. But her hands stop just shy of actually touching it. “Is it... Isn’t it bad luck for me to put it on myself or something?”

  I swallow hard, because I know now that her answer is a yes. “Just tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll take care of it.”