Chasing the Tide

by A. Meredith Walters

  Because Flynn had scars of his own. And one messed up person recognized the emotional damage in others. The carnage was like a beacon.

  Calling me home.

  It made a crazy sort of sense that Flynn Hendrick became the only person able to travel the complicated, dangerous path of Ellie McCallum’s emotional minefield.

  We got each other in a way that others never had. I knew that getting close was equally hard for Flynn but for very different reasons.

  And even though we had made this commitment to each other, and even though I had come back to Wellston for the sole purpose of being with him, it didn’t erase the awkward unease I felt in those first few days as we attempted to live together for the first time.

  I woke up in Flynn’s bed the morning after coming home feeling extremely out of place. My eyes pried open and fixated on a spot on the ceiling. A tiny discolored stain that stood out against the white paint.

  Huh. I was surprised Flynn hadn’t fixed that already. Maybe I should say something. Or should I paint it? He said it was my house too now. But did that mean I could paint the stain on the ceiling?

  I pulled the blanket up to my chin and lay still, unmoving on my side of the bed. I was pushed to the very edge of the mattress. My left butt cheek hung over the side and my leg was precariously balanced. Flynn liked his space when he slept. He insisted on claiming most of the pillows for himself and apparently liked at least a foot between us.

  We had obviously shared a bed in the past and honestly, I had never thought twice about his unusual bedtime habits before. But now that we were officially living together I took notice of the fact that he was very particular about the type of sheets that were on the bed. I observed the way he stacked his pillow for maximum neck comfort.

  He had an unopened bottle of water and a box of tissues on his bedside table just within reach. When I had gone to grab a tissue before going to sleep last night, I was told in no uncertain terms that I had to use the tissues in the bathroom.

  I hadn’t bothered to ask why I couldn’t use the ones two feet away. I knew the reason. Because Flynn liked things how he liked them. It didn’t matter if I was there or not.

  Flynn wasn’t in bed. I was alone. I was hit by an inexplicable sense of hurt about him leaving me by myself on my first morning in his home.

  I resumed staring at the stain on the ceiling, wondering whether I could do things like paint it. Or change the curtains if I was so inclined. Would I be able to buy new dishes or decide one day I wanted to move the couch a whole foot?

  I knew the answer was no. So how was I ever supposed to feel at home in a house I had no say in?

  And why was I obsessing about this stuff on my very first morning here?

  I told myself that I was being ridiculous. I should get up and find Flynn. I should start acclimating myself to his routine. But I continued to lie there, buried under his mountain of covers and wondered what the hell I was going to do and about whether I should risk stealing a pillow or two.

  Okay, so I now had a shiny new degree under my belt but no job prospects. I was living with my boyfriend but had no source of income. I had saved up a decent amount from my previous jobs while in school but that wouldn’t last forever. And there was no way I’d ever mooch off Flynn. My pride would never allow it.

  I had always had to fend for myself and that wasn’t going to change now.

  I finally sat up and slung my legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was freezing under my bare feet. I noticed that Flynn had already laid out my robe on the chest at the foot of the bed and my earlier irritation at not being able to move the furniture or hang new curtains subsided somewhat at his thoughtfulness.

  My clothes and belongings were already put away and the boxes disposed of. Flynn had made sure that everything was in its place before we had gone to bed last night. My socks and underwear were in their own drawer. My shirts were hung up in the closet. My toothbrush and facial cleanser were on their own shelf in the bathroom. Flynn had even gone out and gotten a vanity table and mirror and put it in the corner of the bedroom.

  Murphy, hearing me up, bounded into the bedroom. His thick tail thumped the side of the bed as he wagged it eagerly.

  “Mornin’ buddy,” I cooed, scratching the back of his head. “Where’s Flynn?” I asked him and the dog licked my hand.

  I could smell coffee brewing so I followed the aroma out to the kitchen. The house was cold, my thin pajamas and robe doing little to keep me warm. Obviously Flynn didn’t believe in turning up the thermostat despite the fact that it was the middle of January.

  Flynn sat at the small kitchen table eating toast and writing in a spiral bound notebook. I stood just inside the doorway looking at him for a moment.

  He was the sort of guy who never seemed to age. He still seemed so much like the boy I met all those years ago. He had changed little in his appearance and style. Today he wore a blue and green checkered button down shirt, buttoned all the way to the collar. His khakis were pressed and wrinkle free, his brown shoes freshly polished.

  He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. He didn’t notice me come in and get a mug down from the cabinet. Murphy curled up at Flynn’s feet as I made my coffee. He finally looked up when I pulled the chair out across from him and sat down.

  “Good morning,” he said with a small smile. I sipped on my coffee and nodded my head.

  “Good morning,” I replied. Flynn returned to his notebook, our conversation coming to an end. We sat in silence, neither of us saying a word.

  It felt weird.

  I felt weird.

  This wasn’t the first morning I had woken up in Flynn’s home. Before I had gone to school during the early days of our relationship, I had spent the night frequently. This wasn’t new for either of us.

  But this felt strange. Things had changed for us. We weren’t two people just starting out. We were adults, beginning our life together. We were living in the same house, trying to build a future.

  The weight of it was almost crushing.

  And it freaked me out slightly.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, not able to take the silence a moment longer.

  Flynn didn’t look up. He took another, carefully neat bite of his toast, wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap. He took a sip of his coffee and made another note on the paper. “I’m going over my lesson plan for today,” he answered after what felt like an incredibly long period of time.

  “Tell me about it,” I requested, genuinely interested in his class. I had been completely surprised when he had accepted the position as an adjunct professor at Black River Community College. He had taught several art workshops when I had been a student and having been impressed with his abilities, the administration asked him to teach a course.

  He began by teaching one class and was now teaching three.

  “Still life carvings using clay,” he explained, not looking up. He scribbled notes and ate his toast. I might as well have not been there.

  “That sounds pretty cool,” I said and the conversation once again dwindled into non-existence.

  I finished my coffee and Flynn finished his breakfast. He finally looked at me, as though remembering that I was still there. He frowned. “You’re in your robe,” he said.

  “Uh, well yeah, I just got up,” I pointed out.

  “It’s cold out. You’ll freeze,” he stated, confusing me.

  “Am I going somewhere?” I asked, chuckling.

  “It’s time for Murphy’s walk. I thought you’d like to come too. I have to leave for work in twenty minutes but I always walk Murphy first. It would be nice if you came too.”

  I got to my feet and put my coffee mug in the sink. “Sure, let me get changed really quick.”

  “You should wash that mug. It doesn’t go in the sink. You wash it then put it on the drying rack,” Flynn pointed out.

  I gritted my teeth, trying not to get annoyed by Flynn’s idiosyncrasies. I was intimately famili
ar with his odd habits and need for order and consistency. But I had lived alone for my entire life. I wasn’t the sort of person used to sharing my space with someone.

  My one experience with having a roommate involved listening to Dania having sex in the next room. Needless to say that particular living arrangement hadn’t lasted long.

  I had known that living with Flynn would take some getting used to. Neither of us were the type to be flexible. Flynn even more so.

  So I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, reminding myself silently that it wasn’t a big deal to wash the mug. It’s what Flynn was used to. This was our first full day together. I couldn’t expect us to miraculously know how to merge our lives already.

  I put the now clean mug on the drying rack and wiped my hands on the towel.

  Flynn made a noise in his throat and I looked up at him. “Something wrong?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

  “Use a paper towel to wipe your hands. They’re over there,” he said, pointing to the roll of paper towels on the windowsill.

  This is only the first day, Ellie, I reminded myself.

  “Okay, I’ll do that next time, okay?”

  I retreated to the bedroom and closed the door.

  I hurriedly put on a pair of jeans and a sweater. I ran a brush through my hair and then walked back out into the hallway, knowing how impatient Flynn would be to keep to his schedule.

  He handed me a pair of gloves and a wool hat. They weren’t mine but I noticed they were my size.

  “I knew you wouldn’t have any. I don’t want you to be cold,” Flynn told me as though it weren’t a big deal.

  I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him toward me. “I love you, you know that right?” I whispered just before kissing him.

  “You haven’t brushed your teeth,” Flynn commented, though his cheeks were an adorable shade of red when he pulled back.

  I wasn’t embarrassed by his bluntness. “Nope, I haven’t. Sorry. I just wanted to kiss you. I hope that’s okay.”

  Flynn looped Murphy’s collar around his neck and attached the leash. He stood back up and reached out to take my hand. “I like it when you kiss me. Even if you have bad breath and you haven’t showered.”

  I shook my head, not able to stop myself from laughing.

  “Was that funny? I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Flynn said, walking out the door with Murphy, holding it open as I walked through, for once not letting it slam in my face.

  I squeezed his fingers, though it was difficult under the layer of fabric from the gloves. “I just appreciate your honesty, Flynn,” I told him, meaning it.

  The day was cold and crisp. There was a layer of frost on everything, the grass crunching beneath our feet as we walked through the yard. Flynn kept Murphy on his leash as we headed into the woods behind his house. He navigated us toward a well-worn path that I recognized as the same one I had taken during a drunken night many years ago. A night that ended up here, with Flynn.

  Murphy strained against his leash, wanting to chase a squirrel that ran in front of us. Flynn still held my hand, though it was hard keeping up with him. He was used to ambling through he woods. I however, was not.

  I stumbled on a tree root and Flynn turned around when I brought us to a sudden stop.

  “You need to slow down, Flynn. I’m going to break my ankle,” I said.

  “Sorry. I’ll slow down,” he responded, walking beside me.

  “It feels strange being back here,” I admitted.

  “It feels strange having you here,” Flynn added in that flat, unemotional way of his that often left me wondering whether I should be offended or not.

  “Oh yeah?” I asked lightly, trying not to get angry. It didn’t matter that I had left Wellston three years ago to go to school. It didn’t matter that I had worked my ass off to get my Bachelor’s degree. It didn’t even matter that I was a girl now living with her boyfriend, doing normal, healthy adult stuff.

  Deep down, I would always be that little girl abandoned by her mother. Unwanted by her foster families. Unloved by everyone.

  I was scared to death of rejection and the age old response to kick Flynn before he had the chance to kick me was clawing wildly at my insides. I wanted to say nasty, horrible things. I wanted to push him so hard and so far that he’d never want to be with me. The urge to self-destruct was hard to resist.

  It took every ounce of willpower I possessed, every bit of that new Ellie McCallum I had worked so hard to become, not to do any of those things.

  And in the end, the new, improved me won out.

  Flynn tentatively put his arm around my shoulders. He leaned into me ever so slightly and I felt an odd sort of giddiness that effectively pummeled the bitter resentful Ellie into non-existence. The knots in my stomach coiled and then retracted. My lungs finally expanded, allowing me to breathe.

  “In a good way though. I like having you here,” Flynn said, his voice gruff. I glanced up at him and he was looking at Murphy whose nose was buried in a pile of leaves as he rooted and searched for something to hunt.

  “This is your home. With me,” he continued, and I could see him swallowing. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

  I grinned. An un-Ellie-like full-toothed smile that made my cheeks ache.

  “Yep. My home is with you,” I agreed.

  **

  After Flynn left to go to work I got a shower and then sat down at the laptop Flynn had set up on the desk in the living room. I opened up the online classifieds and looked at what was available.

  Not a whole hell of a lot.

  Shit.

  Here I was with a fucking degree and the most promising job involved waste disposal or working on a road crew.

  Okay. Not a problem. I’d just have to expand my search a bit. I would need to look a little farther away. So what if I had to commute. Lots of people commute to their jobs. I’d just be joining the ranks of every other working stiff in America. No big deal.

  Except it was a big deal.

  The longer I looked, the less I found. There was an opening for a paralegal forty-five minutes away, but I knew next to nothing about law. There was a minimum wage position available at the local independent bookstore in the next town. But the thought of earning $7.25 an hour was depressing.

  It seemed I didn’t have much in the way of options. I found that I was getting nowhere fast.

  I closed the screen and grabbed my keys. Maybe I just needed to go old school and get out there and beat the pavement.

  As I drove into Wellston and couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of trying to get a decent job there of all places.

  Wellston wasn’t the sort of place that generated employment opportunities. I took notice of the people on the streets, looking for familiar faces.

  I recognized Pete Gochenour who had been a year younger than me in school and had taken over his dad’s hardware store once he graduated. He was chatting with Cheryl Jacobs, a co-worker of Julie’s, that I remembered from my days in the system.

  As I passed by Darla’s Drink and Dine, I saw Mr. Cox, my old probation officer leaving with a bag of what I presumed to be Darla’s famous donuts. He hadn’t changed. He was still balding. Still overweight. Still looking like someone had pissed in his cornflakes. I may have put my foot down on the accelerator as I passed, not wanting to be noticed by that particular individual.

  I drove by JAC’s and saw Jeb, my former boss inside. Feeling a touch nostalgic, I stopped the car and got out.

  The bell above the door rang when I opened it. It seemed Jeb had finally gotten around to replacing it. It no longer sounded like a dying cow.

  I grabbed a pack of gum and a bottle of soda from the cooler and headed to the front. I recognized Melanie Stanton behind the counter and groaned inwardly. Melanie had been a permanent fixture on my shit list when I had worked at JAC’s. Her incessant perkiness had been more than my moody, bitchy self could handle.

  I dropped my items on the counter a
nd waited for Melanie and Jeb, who were too busy looking at an inventory sheet, to realize they had a customer.

  “What does a girl have to do to get some decent service in this town?” I asked, giving the two my trademark scowl.

  Jeb looked up and blinked a few times as though trying to place me. If he didn’t recognize me after all the time I spent working in his damn store, I’d smack him in the face.

  “Ellie?” he asked, leaning forward. Melanie gave me a wide smile and then came around from behind the counter, holding her arms out.

  “Ellie McCallum! Oh my goodness! It’s so good to see you!” Melanie enthused, folding me in her perfumed arms before I had a chance to move away. I patted her back mechanically and then extracted myself.

  “Well I’ll be damned! What the hell are you doing back here? I thought you had gone off to some fancy college,” Jeb said, tucking some Skoal in his lip and spitting into an empty water bottle.

  “Yeah, I did. I just graduated,” I said, puffing up a bit with pride at being able to say that.

  Hell yeah. Ellie McCallum graduated from college. Take that, shitty upbringing.

  “Wow. Really? That’s great, kiddo. So what the fuck are you doing back in this shit hole?” Jeb asked, spitting in the bottle again.

  I shrugged as Melanie rang up my items.

  “Well you know, Wellston has that crazy gravitational pull that just makes it impossible to stay away,” I joked.

  “Have you taken to smokin’ crack while you been away?” Jeb laughed, slapping the counter with his hand, tobacco juice dripping from his lip.

  “Don’t be so crude, Jack,” Melanie scolded and I watched as she swatted his arm playfully. Huh. There was definitely a vibe between the two that had never been there before.

  And she called him Jack. Was that Jeb’s real name?

  Jeb put his hand on Melanie’s back and left it there. Yep. They were definitely screwing. Yuck.

  “My boyfriend still lives here. I came back to be with him,” I explained, surprising myself with my honesty.

  “You’re not with that dumbass Nolan boy that I used to see you run around with are you? He’s a POS, Ellie.”