Not when I have nothing. No one. Not when I turned the shitty key into my apartment for the last time or when I chugged down too many beers, lit a joint and passed out on my camp bed.
The voices had long since stopped talking to me. Aurora had given up ages ago trying to get me to move on, her sweet voice was like the cake mixture my Mama would leave for me to lick from the bowl as a kid. How could I be jealous of the ground that now kept her warm? The damp soil of the city keeping her company instead of my arms? I wanted nothing more than to feel her warmth beneath my fingers again. It had been ten years and I was no closer to recovering from their deaths. I had long ago accepted that it was never going to happen, I was destined to roam this earth miserable and alone. Only come tomorrow, I’d be alone on the sand instead of the grimy city sidewalk.
Sea Salt & Drinking Malt
THE SHOP WAS BUSY TODAY, like any other day during the summer. Tourists flocked to Delia Bay in search of sex, surf and sangria. Families with children would visit us too, instead choosing to stay up in the town or at Lily-May’s B&B on the front. Most of them had already been this season, opting for the quieter months before all the teens and tweens headed down here to participate in our amazing bar-crawl before ending up passed out on the sand in the sometimes-blistering heat. My little shop came in handy, being just off the promenade and tucked into one of the white washed side streets. It was better sometimes because all those people who couldn’t handle the sun sought out the shade of the Spanish style alleys, meaning customers tucked into my shop and purchased many of the quaint little things I stocked. My surfboards were always a hit, especially the older, vintage ones that I’d managed to track down and buy at a few auctions and online. Keen surfers were regular to Delia and loved the old-style ones for decoration or restoration.
It wouldn’t always be this way, during the winter when the sun ran off to warmer continents, it was quieter and less chaotic. The summer months brought with it longer working hours and later nights. Not that I was complaining, I loved locking up the shop when all the tourists and surfers had long since left the beach. I’d head down onto the sand and meet up with the guys for some beers and a bonfire. I hadn’t known many people when I first set up shop here in Delia Bay, but I’d quickly figured out that not being shy was the key to gaining new found friends. Being from the town had made it a lot easier as most of the shop owners down here had already heard of me anyways, but it never hurt to try.
I hadn’t moved far like some of my high school friends had for university or college. I didn’t need to because I wasn’t going. Academics was never my forte, I had done okay at school and had the option to go but I didn’t see the point. I wanted to stay close to mama because she’d started to get sicker the older she got. Mama didn’t have anyone else, I was an only child and I’d never known my father, I couldn’t tell you much about him anyway besides the fact that I know he left shortly after I was born, and Mama never spoke of him. I never even asked his name and doubt I ever will.
Instead I chose to move to the seaside, just a half an hour drive away from town. I practically lived at the beach as a kid, the waves were my rhythm and the sand was my skin. It was home, the place I felt truly free from everyone and everything.
I love mama, more than anything but she can be overbearing through her trying to overcompensate on being a single parent. I’d escaped her by running with my surfboard tucked under my arm to the beach. Rain, shine, thunder storms you name it, I was here. Riding the waves as if they were my next breath. These where all the things I thanked my lucky stars for as I sat on top of my board, dangling my long legs into the salty sea water below. The towns lights were starting to flicker on along the promenade and before long, it would be filled with party goers looking for food or alcohol. Or both.
I was grateful that Rachel was working the late shift today because that meant I got to enjoy the sea for a few hours before we lost the sun and after the novice tourist surfers had left. Not that surfing in the dark isn’t amazing because it is, the adrenaline rush is like nothing I’ve ever felt before, it’s still nice to catch a few rays during the evening. The sunsets always light up the sky in a rainbow of colors, one that a picture will never catch and that makes it even more worthwhile. It was one of the selling points that had me setting up shop down here in Delia rather than any other sea-side town on this side of the US of A.
Since hiring Rach last summer, I’d had more time on my hands to do other things besides live in the shop. When I’d first opened Moonbeams I spent every waking hour there making sure every tiny detail was perfect.
Gathering my board under my arm when I reach the shore I start to shrug out of my wet suit, shimmying it down to my waist before heading back up the promenade, the soft white sand squishing beneath my feet. I relished in the slight sea breeze rolling into land tonight, the weather lately had been unforgivingly warm, but it was still pleasant out tonight. Summer would be over soon, but the warm weather had graced me with bleached blonde hair and a few freckles across my shoulders from the short bursts of sun I was lucky to get at the end of each day.
Today I’d left work a little earlier than I usually would. I had promised Old Jet that I would stock up the cabin for its new occupants. Jet was getting on now and he’d sold the best bar on the boardwalk to some newcomer and the cabin was part of the package deal. The same bar that I passed on my right hadn’t changed a bit, aside from the new sign hanging over the front. I wasn’t overly eager for change down here on the boardwalk, but the old man had promised it was for the best. After I’d dropped off some essentials I’d hit the beach.
As I round the corner onto the small side street that Moonbeam is on, I see Rachel locking up the front door. The overhead canopy is tucked in and the only lights on are the fairy lights I have hung in the window.
“Hey, you all done?” I ask startling her.
“Jesus! Will you stop doing that?” Rachel turns around after jumping out of her skin to see me smiling.
“I’m sorry. You’re too easy” I huff, shrugging my shoulders. It’s true, Rach is by far the jumpiest person I’ve ever met.
“Charming” she rolls her eyes before shoving her keys into her handbag.
“I’ll see you in the morning” I roll my eyes on a laugh before I push the door to the side of Moonbeam open, the same one that leads to the apartments upstairs.
“Okay, don’t forget we’re checking out that new bar tomorrow night” she reminds me.
“Oh yeah, Sure!” I turn to give the red-headed beauty a smile before heading up the stairs. The new bar was the same one I mentioned earlier, the one Jet had sold up and promised wouldn’t be changed into some hip new bar that only served prosecco shots and cocktails no one could pronounce. I loved Jet’s, it was my go-to at the end of a shit day for a cold beer and a laugh with friends and not have to shout over crappy music like those big city places. Not that I’ve ever been, and I doubt I ever will. I’m not much of a city person anyways. I’d just read about them in books or heard some tourists talking about the latest hotspots up in Bancroft and the like. It never appealed to me being in such a place.
How dare he retire!
Jet and his wife were headed south to spend more time with his grandbabies. I couldn’t blame him, but we would all miss him. According to the large-mouthed town gossips, he sold it to a long-time friend named Gus, but I haven’t met him yet. Delia’s had a few clubs up in the town but down here in the bay it was a lot quieter and chilled. Just the way I liked it. I hated that Mama still lived up in the main town, and even if I would visit there regularly as she could hardly get down here anymore what with her arthritic legs and all, I still hated being this far away from her. Sliding my key into the lock on my door I sigh, wondering what trouble I’m going to get from my new neighbor tonight. The guy was a wanker simple as that. Don’t get me wrong the bay is a beautiful place but that doesn’t mean we still don’t attract a few odd balls here and there. I don’t even know his name, but I kno
w his voice sounds like nails scratching at a chalk board and the way he plays his music every damn night makes me want to rip my own ears off. The number of drugs he scores should get rid of him soon enough anyway. Seriously the stench is ridiculous. I’m not against the recreational use of drugs, hell I smoke a joint every now and again but have some god damned respect for the people living around you. How hard is it to open a goddamned window?
Dropping my board carefully in the hall, I head to my tiny kitchen and grab a bottle of water, chugging back majority of it before slamming it down on my island. The sea looks almost black now that the sun has set, I pull back the lace curtains I have over the ornate window at the far end of the room and watch as the string lights come on up and down the street. I don’t have the best view from here but if I glance to the right I see the beach and the water, straight ahead is just more shops but I love it here all the same. The more I tilted my head the more of the bay I could see, I could spend hours with my face squashed to the glass just watching the water some days. Hence why I put up with shitty, asshole neighbors. Plus, I’m as close to the shop as I can possibly get without actually living in the thing.
I had been so grateful when my dear old nana had left me some money after she died, so I was able to buy Moonbeam. It was never part of the plan or whatever, it just sorta happened. I wanted to have something to remember her by and it seemed like the right fit. I didn’t have big dreams, or if I did they just included being close to the water. The shop was just an added bonus for me and it meant flexible hours, so I could surf. There are a few designer shops dotted up and down the promenade, but Moonbeam is more tailored to the surfing kind. From boards and wetsuits to dreamcatchers and healing stones. You name it, I’ve probably got it. My apartment is much the same, a mishap of colors and furniture. It’s unique like me according to mama. I love color and simplicity, what’s the point in overcomplicating things?
My Mama always tells me how much like Nana I am, carefree and not worrying about a damned thing. It must be in my blood, because that’s how I live, and I don’t plan on changing.
Scrunching out of my wetsuit I hang it to dry over the shower rail before jumping in the shower. Forgoing drying my hair I let it hang loose down my back as I shrug into my favorite oversized T I’d gotten on a trip up north with Rach just last Autumn, the band slogan on the front is barely visible now it’s been through the wash so many times. I tuck into a PB&J sandwich and curl up on my couch with a book and my go-to night cap of malt whiskey, attempting to ignore the pile of fabric screaming at me from the corner to make something useful out of it.
After waking myself up by dropping the hard-back on my face, believing I’d well and truly broken my nose this time, I’d dragged myself to bed. Only of course, once I got there I couldn’t sleep, a usual occurrence for me these days when all I could think about was either surfing or designing, and tonight it was the latter. I’d picked up a few stray pieces of lace from the shop up in the town and wanted so badly to make it into something beautiful, but what?
Another bag? A top? The lace tops I’d made last month had sold out already and I was itching to make more. So that’s what I did. I sat up with my sewing machine and sketch pad and came up with five new designs to make, before I finally crashed.
Moving Vans & Beer Cans
MY LAST SHIFT AT THE bar had been smooth. There had been no rowdy city folk to launch through the doors when they got too big for their designer boots. The clang of the old lock still rang in my head as if it was a memory I should remember forever, but the sound only made me wince. My head pounded as I trudged down my apartment steps with my three boxes and suitcase, Aurora strapped safely across my back. The beers I’d drank last night sloshing in my gut and reminding me how much of an idiot I am. Who in their right mind would get so pissed the night before moving to a new place? The last thing I want to do is lug Old man Gus’s shit around. But then again, I’m not in my right mind so...sue me.
“You look like shit” Gus slaps me on the back as we finish loading up my crap in the back of the truck.
“Cheers old man” I force a grin and pull down the shutter.
“Smile you grumpy shit. New beginnings and all that” he secures the door before jumping into the driver seat.
“You sure you’re okay to drive this thing?” I eye his small frame after securing my seat belt. As miserable as I am, I don’t want to die today. I hate being the passenger in a car, I need to be in cont
rol of the damn wheel and know that any wrong move or whatever is all on me. Call it past experiences but if I’m in a moving vehicle you better bet that I’m the one driving.
I’ll let Gus off on this one, my hangover would probably kill us both anyways.
“Shut it. I’m not as old as you think I am boy” he snickers before pulling out into the street, failing to put the sickness in my stomach to rest. I don’t glance back at the apartment, what’s the point? It was just a roof over my head. A shit one at that. Instead, I pull my beanie over my eyes and try to get some sleep seen as I had like two hours last night after my drunken blunder.
I hadn’t left the city since Aurora left me, but I knew it was time to leave. This place haunted me, day and night and I would never truly know what I was supposed to be doing with myself unless I left. I doubt I’d ever come back here. Everywhere I looked I saw her, I could still feel her on my skin. That might have something to do with the tattoo I have on my abdomen, but I can’t live like this anymore. If I don’t leave Bancroft, then I’ll die here. Sooner rather than later.
The drive to Delia is quiet, my head filled with all the reasons why I’m following this old man to his dream place. I don’t have dreams anymore. Life was cruel and ripped them all away from me anyway, so what was the point? I had no ambition to do anything but play and drink. Sure, I went out and did things, fucked some women and whatever but it was all empty. I was empty. I was just leaving the city for pastures greener. Fresh faces and a throng of young women just looking for a good time. I’d had my fair share of psycho’s turn up at the bar after I’d snuck out of their beds in the early hours of the morning and I was over explaining myself to Gus. The guy wasn’t even my father and he still scolded me like a five-year-old.
I’d watched the grim, grey city in the side mirror as we drove further and further away until nothing was left but the highway, the blurry horizon just visible through the thin wool of my hat. Soon enough the weather changed to something brighter and cheerier, I gave up trying to sleep long ago when Gus had turned the Radio up and started singing along to some old time Bruce Springsteen tracks. The sun was setting as we pulled onto the promenade that lined Delia’s shoreline, lighting the shops dotted along the front in a tangerine hue. The whitewashed stone side streets started to twinkle as the town’s lights came on and I had the sudden itch to explore. The sea was dotted with surfers, some lying down on their boards and watching the setting sun while others chased the waves. I’d never been surfing before, but something was telling me I should. The adrenaline rush usually made me feel alive, hence why I have so many tattoos. The pain made me feel something other than numbness.
“There’s my baby” Gus points to the corner of one of the streets towards a wood-cladded bar that’s aptly named Gus’s.
“Couldn’t think of a better name?” I cock a dark eyebrow in his direction and he huffs in response, his eyes rolling for dramatic effect. I knew he would name it after himself, he’s been talking about it for months. Bought it cheap off an old friend, he says and has spent best part of his savings doing the place up. The bold, white sign looks good against the weathered wood, I can’t wait to see what he’s done with the inside. Word has it, it didn’t need much work, just a new lick of paint and some new furniture here and there.
“This is me” he pulls up towards the end of the promenade outside a row of white boarded two-story houses, all of them with balcony’s up front and hanging flowers on either side of the front doors.
I’d had to s
how my appreciation for letting me tag along with him like a lost dog and so I helped him unpack his things from the truck. The apartment he’d gotten himself was sweet. A one bed with a kitchen that lead onto the living room and a bathroom. The old man was set. All I had to do was get his heavy as fuck, antique furniture up the damned stairs. One of his neighbor’s sons was just leaving as I was struggling with his recliner chair and thank god he offered to help. We chatted briefly as we struggled with the ancient, motor operated thing before we took a breather at the top. Gus wasn’t up to much with those muscles he was so adamant he had. The old man was too busy flirting with the old girl next door to see me and this stranger, who I later found out was called Brock, moving him into his home. Asshole.
I hadn’t said anything because if he gets a girl then it will get him off my back. I’d be happy for him, and thankful to her.
After getting Gus set up and the old lady next door faffing around his kitchen as if she was already his wife, I took that as my que to leave before she force fed me cake and tea.
“I’ll take you” Gus waves me out the door. “I won’t be long!” he calls over after him.
“I’ll put the kettle on” she smiles so wide I’m surprised her dentures don’t fall out.
“You got some moves old man” I tut as we walk back down the stairs, my head shaking from side to side.
“Shut it you” he slaps my arm playfully making me laugh slightly.
We jump back in the truck that’s practically empty aside from my armful of belongs and drive a little further down the promenade towards the north side. The cliffs on this side are smaller than on the south side, instead of the tall jagged rocks, willowy fields and meadows scatter the land down here, before they trail off into the sea.
“You’re just up here” Gus turns up the last side street, the tarmac quickly turning to a dirt road. All manner of shit goes through my head.
Delia Bay Page 2
