by K. S. Adkins
My first vacation, alone.
I did it, I was here and I was proud of myself for making it happen.
I was so caught up in my own triumph, even if no one knew it was happening, that I barely dodged a huge pile of horse shit trying to cross the street. Tap dancing around it, I shake my arms trying to rid myself of the fact that I almost wore it. Had I actually done it, I probably would have passed out from hysteria. Looking around quickly, no one was laughing or pointing so I kept going until I came upon a stone bench in front of the marina. Taking a seat, I look over Lake Huron again wondering if I should buy a boat. A boat would be fun. Then I realized I’d have no one to boat with and got depressed all over again.
Shaking it off, I make it to Starbucks and almost cry it smells so good inside. Standing in line, I’m not even bothered when I’m bumped from behind. At home it happened a dozen times a day. Turning slowly to peek over my shoulder, a large man mutters, “Sorry” before looking at the food in the case. Checking him out on the sly, I feel my stomach flutter. Oh hell no, I didn’t come here to hook up, and besides, this place caters to families and he probably came here to get his wife a coffee after fucking the hell out of her. Lucky wife, I grumble because he favors Ricky Martin in skin color and the way he stands. The man was very tall, had a five o’clock shadow, thick jet black hair with streaks of grey that made my nipples hard. He also had a face to masturbate to and I stored the image away for later. If he could sing too I’d orgasm all over the condiments. Christ, now I’m jonesing for another woman’s husband.
Rock meet bottom.
Grabbing my cup and bolting, I spend hours going from shop to shop. No one wanted a thing from me, I was simply a tourist and blended in like everyone else. Briefly I wondered what my midnight neighbor with a deep voice was doing right now but shut that down too. I came here to find some peace and make a decision, nothing more. Now that I made it down one row of shops and was half way through with the other, my feet were screaming at me. Having no choice but to do as the natives did, I rented myself a bicycle.
Best and worst idea ever.
First, I haven’t been on a bike since fifth grade. Second, there was a revolt happening between my legs that made staying straight nearly impossible. Every time I peddled my bike threatened to tip over and I was doing all of this sober.
Between almost maiming dozens of people, knocking over a garbage can and not being able to make it up the hill back to my room, I ungraciously fell off my bike onto the grass and laughed my ass off. I was likely the wealthiest woman on this island; I negotiated millions upon millions of dollars daily and yet, I couldn’t manage a bicycle.
The reality check couldn’t have come at a better time. It felt amazing to laugh even if it was at my own expense. The days of taking myself too seriously ended now, right here in the damp grass with my thighs cramping.
How long I laid there, I didn’t know but finally I stood up, dusted myself off and limped my bike the rest of the way. Parking it with the others, I slowly head to my room to relax before taking myself to dinner in the main hall. Once in the room, I didn’t even bother curling up on the furniture. Instead, I sat out on the deck and let the sun bake me while I read my very first romance novel.
I needed this too.
Christ almighty, the woman was a train wreck. Okay, a hot train wreck but still. It’s like she had to do everything at once. Following her while she shopped was about as exciting as having your tires rotated when you had to piss but I will admit, seeing her excitement over it threw me off. She was way too excited about the shit here considering each place was the same as the last. I decided that she must not get out much, if at all. Then she did the unthinkable, she rented a God damn bike. I had seconds to make a decision, try and keep up with her by running and potentially blowing out a knee or… rent a fucking two-wheel death trap.
If I was bad on a bike, she was worse. She missed killing at least eighteen people and every time they screamed at her she’d yell “my bad” then giggle. Just as she started to get the hang of it, she turned to make the hill back to her room. Even I was smart enough to jump off to walk it up, but not miss fast and furious. She was able to peddle a few times then she started to wobble and my breath caught.
Shit. She was going down.
Then she flopped off the bike, did a tuck and roll into the grass and laid there laughing. Yeah, I may have cracked a grin too but it’s because this chick is off her rocker not because it was cute. Walking past her with my bike she was so in the moment she didn’t notice me, as usual. I wasn’t used to women not noticing me and my ego didn’t like it. Parking it and heading up to my room to shower, when I come out I can hear her reading on her deck. I shouldn’t have listened. But it seemed weird to me to hear anyone read out loud. Especially the shit she was reading. The woman was reading porn.
She was into it and no lie, my dick was loving all of it. Then once the chapter ends, she starts laughing. Talking to herself she says things like “that’s not possible,” or “who writes this shit,” and the line that had me rubbing myself in broad daylight, “Hell, I could do that with one arm tied behind my back. Oh wait, I have!”
Just like that I wanted both arms tied behind her back, with her body arching while she begged me to fuck her. Muttering a curse, I’m about to walk back in when her voice stops me. “If you come over to borrow some rope, I’m afraid we can’t be friends. Because if you did, we’d be best friends.”
My eyes go round but I got not a thing to say. “Here,” she says tossing the book over, “Maybe you can finish yourself off, but I’m warning you most of us did that shit in tenth grade.”
“What?”
“You heard me, neighbor,” she whispers close to the fence, “You’re hard and needing to get off, I know what sexual frustration sounds like. The book isn’t terrible, just skip to the middle and get creative.”
“I’m not jerking off!” I growl through my side of the fence.
“No? Oh then it must have been someone else moaning. My bad.”
“I wasn’t--”
“Whatever,” she says opening her door, “Just toss it back over when you’re done. ‘kay?” then she slams the door. Now I’m standing there with a stiff dick and a romance novel. I couldn’t believe she heard me, I couldn’t believe she had the balls to call me out on it. Most of all, I couldn’t believe I was about to jack off with a paperback and didn’t feel bad about it in the slightest.
Day drinking always seems wise at the time. There’s nothing like having a cold glass of wine to soothe you. The first one is so good, you order another. You get caught up in the beauty around you, wishing you belonged, that it would notice you too. When it doesn’t, you order a third glass to dull the sting of being invisible.
Having no appetite because your heart hurts, you order a fourth, when you really start to feel it working. Then because you’re a genius, you cash out, grab your bike only to walk it to the highest point on the island.
Then you do some stupid shit, like fly downhill on two wheels, completely tanked with a smile on your face.
The adrenaline rush felt so amazing, I did it again. I haven’t felt a rush like this in well… ever, now that I think about it.
Full of wine and ambition, I wheeze as I climb that bitch again because the way down was worth the asthma attack. I did this because I wanted a memory that was my own for a change. Climbing on, I didn’t even have to push to get going. The hill was so steep I was probably going twenty miles per hour before the half-way mark. Jamming the brakes to avoid a carriage, I see my turn and work on slowing down.
Laughing, screaming and some other shit too, I get to the bottom and look back up to where I’d been. Wow, I really came a long way. Yes, I could take that and apply it to a lot of things in my life but I didn’t want to. For now, I wanted to enjoy this feeling while it lasted. That hill was my ticket to freedom or a bloody death. Both options I was okay with.
“Are you crazy?”
Turning to t
he voice and seeing a state trooper scowling, I can’t stop the giggle that escapes me. I mean, he’s a state trooper on a bike with knee pads and a riding helmet. That and I’m far drunker now than when I started and this reaction couldn’t be helped.
“No,” I say attempting to turn around and push it back uphill. “I’m bike riding.”
“I’m going to need your driver’s license.”
“Yeah about that?” I say patting my nonexistent pockets. “Didn’t bring it.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back up that hill,” I say pointing over my shoulder with my thumb, “Why, is that against the law?”
“No,” he says, “It’s not. But drinking and riding a bike recklessly is.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Ma’am, you’ve got a crowd watching you so, no, I’m not shitting you. Do you see all those kids? The last thing I need, the last thing anyone needs is to see you eat pavement. How much have you had to drink?”
“Swear to God you give me a breathalyzer, I’m going to pee my pants. Wait, is it in your pouch? Can your bike hold two people? Do you carry a gun? How come you have a horn and I don’t?”
“What’s your name?”
“Bet,” I say sticking my hand out, “What’s yours?”
“Neil.”
“Nice to meet you, Neil,” I tell him shaking it vigorously, “Any chance you want to race?”
“No. But I am going to ask you to join me for dinner later tonight. Then after you say yes, I’m going to escort you back to your room.”
That’s when I lost my buzz, my humor and my interest in tackling the hill again. “I’m going to have to pass on dinner, Neil. As much as I appreciate the offer, I can’t.”
“Married?”
“Widowed.”
“I’m sorry,” he says with sincerity, “Please, go park your bike and sleep it off. I don’t want to ticket you.”
“Actually, could you ticket me just so I can say I did something wild for once?”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m always serious, Neil, but I’m working on it.”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he says reaching for his pad, “We exchange numbers and I’ll ticket you.”
Smiling, I put my hand out for his phone and put my number in it and then he does the same with mine. When that’s done he makes quick work of writing my ticket and hands it to me.
“Thanks for not throwing me in the clink, officer.”
“Coffee,” he says, “I’ll be at Starbuck’s at eight tomorrow morning. Have coffee with me, Bet. If you enjoy my company we can work up to dinner.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say turning my bike around, “One more?”
“No,” he says laughing. Then pointing to my cottage he orders me, “Sleep it off.”
“Yes sir, officer,” I say then salute him which seemed like a great idea at the time. Then I slowly walked my bike back to the rack, parked it and decided I needed more wine before dinner.
The woman was going to give me a heart attack.
When she left the patio of the restaurant she was clearly tanked. Thinking she was taking the bike and going to crash back in her room was tolerable. Watching her sneak up the hill like the rest of us couldn’t see her had me white knuckling my belt buckle. If I was worried about her making the climb it was nothing compared to watching her fly down that hill at warp speed. The only reason I didn’t announce myself was because she had this look about her. The one that said, fuck it, I’m about to do something fucking stupid so sit back and watch.
Like once wasn’t enough?
She no sooner stopped and caught her breath that she was eye balling that fucking hill again. The second time down she almost side swiped a God damn buggy and she wasn’t steady on that fucking bike neither. She looked like a drunk on a bike, period. Slamming on the brakes, I’m surprised the bitches didn’t blow with the beating she was putting on them. Not like she rented a mountain bike that was made for extreme shit. No, she rented a cruiser with a pink basket.
A cop on a bike (which is hilarious for about ten different reasons) approaches her. He’d been eyeing her for the last twenty minutes just like me and about fifty other people were. You see a woman squealing with her legs sticking out from each side of her bike, you wait to see what happens. Finally deciding to intervene, he starts talking and pointing and she does the same.
Getting closer but making sure I wasn’t seen, I listen as he asks her out and for many reasons it made me extremely angry. Mainly because this fucker could get in my way, not because I was jealous. Thank Christ she turned him down but he wasn’t giving up. When she asks for the ticket he cons her to get her number which I couldn’t believe she actually gave. Now I see him smiling and flirting and she looks bored. He asks for coffee she agrees to consider it.
Right then and there I knew I needed to step up my game.
Making sure she was good, I stay a safe distance away and watch as she fumbles with parking the bike then stumbles up the steps to the cottage. Waiting in the hall, I wait for her to get in before I head to my own room. Once I’m in the hot box, I sit there wondering how in the hell I’m supposed to get this woman to trust me enough for me to betray her. Especially, when I didn’t know what I was betraying her for.
More than that though, I was wondering how in the hell I was going to get her to want me as badly as I wanted her.
Make no mistake, I wanted her.
Didn’t matter if this was a job, the woman got under my skin in a bad way. An hour later, I couldn’t detect any movement and took the opportunity to close my own eyes. If she woke up, I’d know it and I’d follow.
Until then, I needed to rest because this woman was exhausting to keep up with and yeah, I liked that about her too.
Dinner was lonely.
Even though I turned Neil down, I was still glad I came out despite the loneliness. I wasn’t ready to do the ‘get to know you’ shit with someone I wasn’t paying for their time. I wasn’t ready to do it for real and that was seriously depressing because odds are I never would be. Looking on the positive side, I will admit watching men and women interact was beautiful and I missed it terribly. Listening to children beg for bed was beautiful too. I missed it all, even the tiring parts. The arguments over nothing, the teething baby, the morning sex, the laughter and having a partner that loved me at my worst. Watching life move on right in front me, I wanted to be angry. I wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair but most of all, I just wanted the pain to fade enough that I could feel something more than grief.
In truth, I didn’t expect to find true love. A companion would be nice though and at one time I had given it serious thought. Drowning in misery those early years were rough and I wasn’t proud of my behavior. At a loss on how to start over, I did all sorts of things my family would have disowned me for. For six months I would go to work blazed out on coke, or even better, I’d do a line or two and leave the residue on my desk as a reminder to get more later. I had three dealers on speed dial and knew them on a first name basis. Hell, one year I even spent Christmas with one named Dibz out of boredom. Turns out Dibz was a family man and even he felt sorry for me. That was a holiday I’ll never forget. Then I would hire escorts to take me out and pretend they gave a fuck. If they proved exceptionally good at pretending, I’d let them stay over and have them again in the morning with the promise of a big tip. Until one morning, I caught one of them trying to steal the custom Shinola watch I was given from my husband for our first anniversary. Because of that, I broke his nose and never called the service again.
Between the drugs and random sexual encounters, I decided to clean my act up and give back as much as I could instead. Work would be my drug. Work would replace fucking strangers. Work would replace the emptiness inside of me too, only it did none of those things.
Having money and being generous meant people wanted to see you. They want to attach your name to their cause. At first, I was ev
erywhere then it quickly became stale. So when I turned over a new leaf and was extended an invitation to a charity event, I sent money instead. Like anyone cared right? It was about the check I wrote, not which dress I wore. Even the flu didn’t stop me from working because without work, I just had me and that wasn’t enough. Bottom line, I pretty much sucked. Slamming back another glass of white wine, not even the whitefish spread was able to take my head to a better place. Tomorrow was the anniversary I dreaded. The day following, would have been my daughter’s eighth birthday. Asking for a large glass to go, I pay my tab and walk downstairs to the café to purchase two more bottles, content to drink alone in my room.
Walking out, I look over at the water and the chairs with no one in them and make my way down. Sipping my wine, I watch families ride bikes, lovers kiss and the moon brighten it all for me to remind me what I’ll never have again. A startling reminder of what I squandered the first time it was given to me. Throwing that glass back, I throw the empty cup and not caring if anyone saw me, heard me or that I littered. At that moment I didn’t want to be me. I didn’t like me now, I didn’t even know who I was. “I want it back! I want it all back!” I scream at the water. I wanted the routine back, the expectation back, the arguments and the comfort. Clenching my fists I scream it again and again.
When nothing happened, I cursed myself for doing something so stupid in public. Showing my emotions is not the norm for me anymore. Besides, no one was listening to me anyway. Again, I was swiftly reminded that I was invisible. Hanging my head, I walk back to my room with purpose. Quite often I tell myself that I needed to be grateful that I even had them for a time. But I’m not grateful, not even close. I was stolen from, robbed, jipped, bamboozled and I wanted revenge. But revenge on who? For what? As the past six years proved the only one I was hurting was myself. Throwing my door open and falling into the chair on my patio, I drank wine straight from the bottle laughing out loud at the truth as I knew it. I was the richest homeless girl in Detroit.
